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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 month

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part 16 - but I know where to start

“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii

Regent Masterlist Part 15

Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope!

Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie.

(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.)

Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man.

Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well.

There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him.

(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.)

(Taught him how to read.)

(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.)

(Did not fear him.)

(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)

(Loves him.)

(Mourns him.)

(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)

(Jazz was his.)

(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.)

(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.)

Remix & Original chat

Remix: Lol hows weenie Original: jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak Remix: ur point? Original: lol hes ok frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix: sucks 2 b him Original: so tru Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u Original: love u 2

Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait.

On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama?

Yep, the Regent. Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support.

The Birds and the Bats Group Chat

Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason! Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing! Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat. Blood_Heir: Never. Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation. Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd. Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat. I was actually at my Docs. Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too. Spoiler-Alert: Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason! Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗 Zombie: At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me Spoiler-Alert: Ecstatic! But details! Now. Zombie: No. Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Jasmine Nightingale. Zombie: Babs. Oracle_of_Gotham: On it. [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.] Spoiler-Alert: too late!!!!!! Cass with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad: Welcome back Jaylad. Zombie: Old man You and I need to have a talk with words Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!

Council of Uncaged Birds

Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason. Officially meet him. WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language! WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.

Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat] WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets. WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻

Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie? Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she. Lady: I love how brilliant you are. Knight: I aim to please.

Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it

The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song.

“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied.

“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.”

It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton.

One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise.

She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham.

(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)

(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.)

How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep? Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister.

“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.”

(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.

I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.

(Not me!)

Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.

(You are amazing!)

(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)

Thanks for reading and happy easter!

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m3tth4ws · 5 months

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#bpm #<- new shame (ship name)#'cus my heart do be racing looking at these three #they're my bozos ok 🐎🎠🏇#brock boeser #elias pettersson #jt miller #vancouver canucks

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wheretfisyourdecorumyoublindb · 2 years

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I accidentally found the worst, lowest place of when it comes to despair.

It's not searching for fanfiction.

Not lowering your standards.

Not writing it.

Not changing the ship...

#it's finding a similar pair and changing the names #kudos to me #i have achieved the new lowest #god im so embarassing.#shame on me #fandom #fanfic #fangirl #fangirl moment #wattpad #ao3 #wattapad #ship #fanblr #otp #obsession #hyperfixation #writing fanfic #fanfic reading

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 3 months

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✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #my writing #I’m not sorry for this #this was super self indulgent 😂#enjoy the new goofy Luci face!#a goofy face is my calling card lol #I was writing a lot of this in a public area I hope y’all appreciate the risks I take lmao

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cloudzoro · 2 months

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Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x

masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.

It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.

Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.

“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.

“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.

“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.

“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.

“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.

“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.

A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.

Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.

Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.

When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.

Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.

“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”

“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.

“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.

“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.

“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”

You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.

“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.

“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.

His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.

“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.

You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.

Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.

“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.

“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.

“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.

“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.

“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.

“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!!

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chaconnenha · 22 days

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⸝⸝ ❛ i' m in love with a fairytale . . .

╰ ❪ ꕤ ❫ ENHYPEN ( HYUNG LINE ) as disney princes !

en- hyung line x fem!reader ʬʬʬ───includes. swoon-worthy princes, fluff, romance, minor angst, kissing, violence, abusive & toxic households, semi-nudity, word dumps/messy writing . . . ( MAKNAE LINE VER. found here ) BACK TO LIBRARY ?!

LEE HEESEUNG as PRINCE ERIC ( THE LITTLE MERMAID ) !

when you pulled him to the shore from the wreckage of his sunken ship, and you felt the sand on the shore for the very first time, you knew you could never go back to how things were… and when you fell for him for the very first time, you knew you would never be able to love anyone else. but he had someone else now—a princess, who could speak, could laugh, could tell him just how much she loved him… you were just a mermaid who traded her voice for legs; a silly girl who used forks as a hairbrush, and couldn’t walk two steps before tumbling over the other. there was no way he would fall for you… or so you thought.

you had no idea his love for you ran deeper than the ocean that you saved him from. that the moment he found out you were missing and nowhere to be found, he felt his heart drop in his chest right down to his stomach. or that the first thing he did was send his guards out to every corner of the city in search of you, hoping that he didn’t just lost you forever. and that was why, when he saw you standing at the beach where he met you for the first time, he couldn’t hold back his feelings. not after reading the letter you left behind for him, saying that you were leaving him so that he could marry someone who wasn’t you. he wasted no time in chasing you down before you could even set foot in the sea, his arm grabbing yours and hauling you to his chest, as if you were the one sinking this time, and it was his job to pull you back to shore.

you couldn’t even gasp in surprise before his lips were on yours, swallowing your protests like he was drowning again, and you were his last pocket of air. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” he panted between desperate kisses, his arms pressing you even more firmly against his body. you stared at him in shock as salty tears ran down his beautiful face, reflecting the ones that fell down yours not too long ago. “please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “i love you too much to let you go.”

PARK JEONGSEONG as PRINCE CHARMING ( CINDERELLA ) !

you were used to being treated like a trampled flower in the dirt. the moment your father passed away and left you in the care—or rather, the mercy—of your stepmother, you had learnt to tuck away your dreams in the back of your mind, where they would remain unrealised, yes, but at the very least, untouched by the hands of your wicked stepsisters, who would not hesitate to tear them into shreds like the did your mother’s precious gown.

but the prince was different. you could still remember his handsome face and his gentle smile, the way his calloused hands held your waist ever so gently while the two of you danced beneath the light of the crystal chandeliers and the burning eyes of a hundred spectators. would he be disappointed if he couldn’t find the girl who fit the glass slipper you left behind? you hoped not, for you had no doubt there would be princesses all around the world eager to fill the spot that you missed… and yet, they couldn’t. because they weren’t you. he made that clear when he broke through the door with the force of the men at his beck and call, eyes searching frantically until they landed on your figure—-dressed in rags and covered in ashes.

you scrambled to your feet, your face burning in shame as you bowed your head. you almost wished he didn’t find you here, if only to spare him the disappointment of realising that the girl he had been chasing was no princess, but a servant girl who didn’t even have a scrap of new clothing to her name. and yet, those calloused hands of his found their way to your chin ever so gently, lifting your eyes to meet his ones. your knees felt weak, and your face warm— like the sunlight that filtered through the attic window, and like the look in his eyes as he gazed upon you. “it’s you,” he said with a whisper, a wide smile blooming across his face. because there was no way it wasn't you; not when he had been dreaming of those eyes of yours since the night you met. “my princess…”

SIM JAEYUN as FLYNN RIDER ( TANGLED ) !

there was once a time where you wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like to feel the grass beneath your feet, and to lie in meadows of dandelions under the sun, like they always talked about in the books you piled up in your little room. to know what it was like to be free. and he was the one who gave you that. the one who showed you the world. but being with him was dangerous, for the both of you, and you would rather stay locked up in the tower forever than let him be hurt. now, the only thing you wanted, was for him to be safe. even if that meant giving up the freedom you would once trade anything for.

you stared at the painting on your ceilings—the painting of the lanterns that he took you to see, just as he promised. the lanterns that bore witness to your first kiss on a boat in the middle of the lake… right before your mother found you, and dragged you back to the tower, promising pain on the man you loved–yes, loved—if you didn’t do as she said. you sighed as you raised a hand over your eyes. and it was then that you heard a knocking from the inside of the walls. someone was here. and it wasn’t your mother. you moved faster than you ever did before you learnt how to braid your ropes of hair, and you slotted yourself between one of the bookshelves to hide, frypan in hand, at the ready.

this scene felt all too familiar. you found yourself remembering the charming grin as you stood with a frypan in hand, eyeing the man who broke into your home and changed everything. but now was not the time for such thoughts. as soon as you heard the intruder enter, your charged with your pan held over your head with violent intent—only to have it fall from your hand when a hand you knew all too well wrapped around your wrists, securing them together in its singular grip, before pushing you up against the nearby wall. jake watched your lips fall apart in a silent gasp, eyes lighting up in recognition at his face. his name left your lips in a quiet sigh, and his heart leapt at the sound, at the sight of your pretty face under the sensual lighting of the setting sun. he wasted no time in ravaging your mouth with hungry kisses, his hard body pressed against yours as he attempted to feel every part of you against him, so he could feel you like he wanted to since the day you were taken from him. “i missed you so fucking much,” he whispered. you scolded him, telling him he shouldn’t be here… but— “i don’t care. i’m here to take my girl back.”

PARK SUNGHOON as PRINCE ADAM ( BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ) !

when you first found yourself at the beast’s—no, sunghoon’s, castle—demanding that he let your father go, you would admit that you almost turned and ran for the hills at the sight of his beastly form. he was the image of the monsters that you read about in all those books you buried your nose in all day, the ones that you lost yourself to fantasy with. but the longer you remained in his care, the more you realised just how much lay beneath the surface of a supposed beast. the way he had so awkwardly tried to pull your chair out for your on the first night you had dinner together, the way he was so hesitant to grasp your hands when you danced, as if too scared he might shatter it; the way he so willingly threw himself before an arrow just to make sure it didn’t touch you…

you called his name with falling tears, watching as he lay limp on the ground before you. his small huffs of annoyance were never so missed as they were now, instead replaced by silence as you continued to shake his lying form, his blood staining your dress. you never even got to say thank you, to tell him you didn’t mean it when you said he was an insufferable and intolerable beast—and now, you would never have the chance again… or so you thought. as you rested your head against his unmoving chest, wallowing in the grief that washed over you like a tidal wave, you failed to notice as the beast you came to knew started to shift into a man, his bare chest healed of any wounds because of the love that you shed in your precious tears. it wasn’t until a human hand cradled your cheek and lifted your face did you notice what had happened, and god was he beautiful—just as he was on the inside.

his lips were raised into a soft smile, and you heart leapt at the sight of small dimples poking his cheeks, and a pair of fangs that looked like a miniature version of the ones he had when he was a beast. “why are you crying?” he asked, his lips pressing a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “did you really think you would get rid of me that easily?” he cupped your face into his warm, large hands, his eyes bearing into yours. “silly girl… i’m too in love with you to leave.”

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gilbirda · 10 months

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Danny is the rightful Ghost King, but since he's not of age he needs a regent who is a) his species, b) his family, and c) an adult. The only adult haftas are Vlad or this Red Hood guy from Gotham that he's never heard of. Since Vlad is not going to happen looks like it's Red Hood, now how to make the guy count as family...

Jason has had a lot of weird shit happen to him over the years but a woman tracking him down as Red Hood to propose a temporary political marriage so he can be regent of a death dimension until her brother is old enough to rule in his own name is a new one for him. Of course he accepted. The only other option was apparently a creepy uncle figure. He's read enough romance to know a forced marriage of a woman to her creepy uncle never ends well. A forced marriage of a woman to a crime lord doesn't usually end much better, but he's ignoring that for now. He's going to woo and romance his spit fire of a wife with respect, spontaneous poetry, his damn good cooking, and by not being a Darcy. And he is going to rock not just this whole regent thing, but also and more importantly the mentoring her brother and his new ward on how to rule this dimension. Competence is always attractive. He runs a tight ship in his crime empire, surely running a dimension can't be that much harder.

He actually already has a plan on how he's going to handle the whole 'The USA declared war on the dimension he's regent of' thing. It's simple really he goes to the next family dinner and causes chaos. The faces everyone will make will be glorious when he drops that he's lord regent of a dimension, the USA is at war with his dimension, and it's such a shame that no one can meet Jason's wife or ward till there is a peace treaty. Then he just needs to sit back and watch the entertainment as his siblings realize he has forever won the position of favorite child by being the first married and first to give Bruce a grandkid. Also you know the chaos of Bruce willing to wage a one man war if necessary so he can meet his grandson. Jason figures it will take at most a month for the government to cave.

And like a cherry on top he's going to get on a medical treatment plan for the pit. Everything is looking great for him.

#submission by sarahlikesbugs-blog #this has been sitting in my inbox forever im so sorry #i was waiting to have something smart to add but guess what burnout is a bitch #anyway king regent Jason and his lovely go getter wife #he really said 'im going to make the most of this and take advantage as i can'#also making Bruce fix things for him? cherry on top #petty jason is so fun #jazz/jason #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #dpxdc

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sun-snatcher · 2 months

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hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ. Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count. 1k. a/n. A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes.

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew.

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will.

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say.

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps. )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast.

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries.

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one.

He stops your wrist just as you do.

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter.

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles.

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority.

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly.

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours.

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

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charliemwrites · 18 hours

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Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #Brandon the crash dummy

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mournings-stars · 3 months

Text

Lute x Charlie’s Best Friend

from this request by @lixanjewel

i may need to make a part two cus i kinda love this little enemies to lovers flirtation-situation-ship

this is a fem reader but i’ll happily write anything else as well!! :)

A meeting in Heaven was never something you expected. And you certainly didn’t expect Charlie to ask you to come with her — sure, you’d known each other since you were kids, and sure, you were the first person to support her ideas before Vaggie, and sure, you did a lot of planning…

Maybe you did have a right to go with them—

“Of course you do!” Charlie snapped you out of your thoughts as she packed her suitcase, yours (a backpack) packed and in your hands as you waited for her while you, apparently, thought out loud. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” She was bouncing in place, shutting her suitcase before she turned to you. “And you are gonna be so proud of yourself when we show them this dream is real! I couldn’t have done this without you!” You gave her a small smile before Vaggie came in. “Either of you!”

The rest of the morning was spent saying goodbye, getting that one wall destroyed, and sending your friends off with the person who destroyed it before you entered the portal to Heaven.

After making it past the gates, meeting Saint Peter, Sera, and Emily, you were touring with Charlie while Vaggie stayed at the hotel, the trip seeming to be taking a toll on her. To put it simply, she was in an awful mood, looking like she was going to be sick.

“Look, look, look!” Charlie squealed, pointing at a very fluffy white animal as she grabbed your arm.

That was how your entire trip to the zoo went before you got lunch with Emily, who was the one showing you around. She got the two of you food and drinks and when you went to sit, you cautiously excused yourself to continue looking around while they talked.

You took your drink with you as you walked the promenade, taking in the environment. It made you wonder what it’d be like if things were different — if you were born in Heaven rather than Hell.

“Enjoying your visit?” You were startled out of your thoughts by a girl dressed in all grey. Even her blunt cut hair was a pale grey. You recognized the uniform as an exorcist’s, but you had half a mind to think you were jumping to conclusions without the horns and X over her eye to prove it, but her eyes were gold — and they look far too warm to be so menacing. “Lute,” she introduced before the silence became awkward, sticking her hand out.

“Pretty,” was the first thing that came to your mind. She raised a very judgmental brow at you. “I meant your name… is pretty — well, actually, no, that’s not what I meant, but it is… pretty — like the instrument.” Her brow relaxed, and you sighed, feeling less like Charlie and her bundle of excited nerves and more like yourself and your internal bundle of excited nerves. You introduced yourself and took her hand, shaking with a smile. “I’m usually not so nervous,” you said.

“New environment,” she shrugged. “Why don’t we walk,” she suggested and brought her hand to your back to turn you in the direction you’d been going before she stopped you. “I thought only two of you were coming.”

“Charlie asked me to go with her for moral support.” Lute nodded along. “Childhood friends and all…”

“You’re Hell-born, then,” it was more of a statement than a question, but you nodded anyway. “Shame,” she muttered. “Maybe her little redemption idea could’ve actually worked with you.”

You paused. Surely, she was insulting you. “I should’ve realized,” you said, taking a second look at this angel. She wasn’t just a pretty girl wearing a uniform that resembled an exorcist uniform; it was an exorcist uniform and their LED light masks came with artificial horns. That meant if she knew about the reason for your visit, she was the one that was there during Charlie’s first meeting. And suddenly, the name, “Lute,” sounded very familiar from one of Charlie’s rants.

“I did introduce myself,” she said haughtily, “not that I expect a low-class demon to pick up context clues—“

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned. Her very pretty eyes, which looked like gold, now looked like… corn — or something — (it was the meanest thing you could think of), and her very pretty name, which sounded like music, now sounded like some kind of crime you would expect from an exorcist angel.

Lute laughed, taking pause for a moment before she did and nearly doubling over as she walked with you.

“Are you insane?” You asked with a sneer that made her laugh harder.

“No one’s ever told me to shut up like that.” She calmed herself down, snickering to herself. “Insane,” she laughed. “You must be, thinking you can speak to an angel like that.”

“Must be.”

And despite that, she kept walking with you. Neither of you knew where you were walking toward, but you kept walking anyway, her with her nose in the air and a pompous smile, and you looking anywhere but at her.

Finally, you broke the silence, “Were you following me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Orders.”

“Why me?”

“Orders,” she emphasized like you were stupid.

“I heard you,” you mocked her tone. “But why the orders to follow me?” Then a very snarky idea popped into your mind as you smirked at her. “Unless you just blindly follow orders like some little bitch on a leash—“

“Do you want to die?”

It was your turn to laugh, shrugging. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

That, she didn’t respond to. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked away. “Adam wanted to know why you were actually here, seeing as the hearing only includes the princess and her…” She waved her hand dismissively, a look of disgust on her face.

“Partner?”

She shook her head, scoffing. “That relationship is vile.”

You scoffed the same. “Is that something that keeps people out of Heaven, too?” You asked curiously, thinking of the many sinners you knew who seemed nice enough. “Vile relationships like theirs?” Lute frowned at you, looking confused.

“Oh, right,” she said, like she knew something you didn’t, and laughed. “You think I mean because they’re both girls, but thats not it.”

“It’s not?” You raised a brow and took a very long sip of your drink.

“Of course not. They just disgust me.” You laughed ironically, seeing no other answer for her hatred. “I don’t care how they choose to live their lives,” she insisted.

“You don’t need to convince me. We all have our assumptions of what Heaven thinks of people like us. I’m sure some of the… what do you call them? Winners? Said the same things when they were alive.”

Lute looked very uncomfortable, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. “No one who thinks like that would be allowed into Heaven.”

“Doubt it. Did you have orders to talk to me, too?” You moved on quickly, making her chew the inside of her cheek.

“Unfortunately.” She huffed. “You do a lot of the princess’ research, don’t you?” You hummed. “Interviews?”

“I don’t like talking to people—“

“Clearly—“

“—who don’t like talking to me.”

“I can tell.” Her uncomfortable expression dropped and she laughed under her breath. “I’m glad I won't have to see you in court later. I don’t know how I’d respond to your accusatory defense.”

“Good thing Charlie didn’t want to take my advice for this, then.”

And Lute stopped walking very abruptly. She gave you a very kind smile and said, “I enjoyed our chat. Thanks for your time.” She looked very pleased, like she made you admit something to help her case.

“You’re welcome for the information,” you said lamely. “Charlie will achieve what she wants, Lute,” you said as she began to walk away.

“Not without your help,” and when she said your name, you quickly turned away from her golden eyes staring you down and walked back to Charlie and Emily.

There was absolutely no way you were about to (extremely gayly) overthink what was barely a conversation with a girl you didn’t like because of one sentence that wasn’t even a compliment.

Absolutely not. No way. Not happening—

“What girl is it this time?” You nearly shrieked when you heard Charlie, having walked all the way back to her and Emily where they were laughing.

“Charlie told me you have a talent for falling in love,” Emily giggled with Charlie. “Did you meet someone?”

“Or are you just talking to yourself?” Charlie teased, laughing.

Of course, all you could think to say was, “shut up,” which made you think back to the not-conversation you had with Lute. “Don’t we have a hearing to prepare for, or something?!”

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mimimui · 10 months

Text

comma after dearest (genshin impact)

wherein (character) reacts a certain way to a grammar mistake you made in your letter (or was it?)

includes: kazuha, ayato, thoma, xiao, zhongli, alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche

tags: a bit unserious writing, fluff, i am obssessed with "it changed the meaning, did you intend this?" forgive me, not proofread

a/n: not sure if anyone's done this before, but take it as my apology for not having written in a while (╥﹏╥) my fever + colds are killing me & i have a lot of scheduled things to do for school aaaa. maybe i can write this with other fandoms as well ? (and character x character ships hehe) .. enjoy !

kazuha notices it immediately. aside from all the work with the fleet, he spends time reading—or rereading—your letters. written messages aren't uncommon when he's at sea, but this letter was different. had you made a mistake with your punctuation? no, it can't be, you've always opened your letters with "my dearest kazuha".

he blinked at the words, now seeing a comma between the word 'dearest' and his name. as much as he was confused, he was flustered. if this wasn't a mistake, and that you intentionally called him your dearest, then it's a shame you can't see how absolutely smitten he is for you right now.

ayato is busy going through papers and folders when he sees an envelope slide under his door. he chuckles as he reads his name in your writing, carefully picking it up and opening it. you have a habit of writing him letters and sliding it under his door while he works, which ayato finds very endearing.

when he reads "my dearest, ayato", his smile only widens more, finding new motivation to finish his assignments for the day so he can get to you as soon as possible. he knows how much effort you put into writing these short, yet loving, letters when he places this one on his (already full of other letters) pinboard.

thoma takes a while to realize, but when he finally notices it, his heart rate increases by a concerning amount. he loves you so much to the point that when he reads "my dearest, thoma", there's hearts in his eyes. thoma's so much happier after reading your letter, and now he's doing everything smiling.

ayaka told him he looks brighter than usual today, and ayato even asked him if he received good news. of course, he was shy about this, but he told the kamisato siblings it was nothing to worry about. though, he continues to do his work with a little bounce in step.

xiao denies it. he thinks he's read it wrong at first, but when he looks over at it again, it is confirmed that you did write him as your dearest. forgetting about the rest of the contents of the letter, xiao began to contemplate. an error like that was unlikely, especially since you're fond of writing.

the next time you meet, he has a hard time trying to bring up the topic. he knows you meant what you wrote, but he wants you to confirm it. when you tell him, "yes, i mean it." he tries to hold back a smile. keyword: tries.

zhongli adores the salutation. or rather, he adores you. he appreciates the sweet, small detail you added in. zhongli hurriedly, yet carefully, writes you a letter back, addressing you as "my dearest, (y/n)" and replying to the contents you had in yours.

he never really indulged in using endearments, but ever since your letter, he's only even been calling you his 'dearest'. when greeting you, when asking for your attention, when talking about you, whenever. zhongli's never said it outloud, but you know he absolutely loves that nickname now.

alhaitham is amused. he thinks you genuinely made a mistake in your letter, but doesn't address it until he returns to sumeru. when you see him again, he brings it up, expecting to be able to playfully taunt you about it. but he was so wrong.

"but you're my dearest. how is that wrong grammar?" you say, turning the situation around and teasing him instead. alhaitham wanted to tease you so much that he didn't bother to think of other possibilities. he's defeated, and all he can say is, "...i have no reply."

kaveh doesn't know how to react to it. should he be flustered, or correcting you for the mistake? was it even a mistake? he does write you a letter back, but best believe he immediately asks you about it as soon as he comes back home. "did you intend this?" he says, showing you your letter.

when you nod your head, all the shyness and blush that should've came in before came in now. kaveh uses the folded letter to cover his smile, but it's too wide and too bright to even try to. when you tease him about it, he strongly denies having his heart race from it.

scaramouche chooses to ignore it. he knows you wrote that punctuation on purpose, but he doesn't want show that he's thinking about it. this ultimately failed when he doesn't write you back, and you knew something was up with him. once he returns and he acts indifferent, you bring it up.

his eyes widen as he looks away, realizing he forgot to reply to that letter. scaramouche hesitates before quietly apologizing, mumbling something about 'my dearest' and 'running out of paper'.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #scaramouche x reader

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unscripted-if · 4 months

Text

DEMO || PINTEREST

Lights…

Camera…

Action!

Those three words, along with the flashing of cameras and screaming of thousands of people, had made up your life for over a decade. Following your rising star into the stratosphere where you could look at where you’ve been upon your lofty perch in the sky. You were the ruler of your universe and there was nothing that’d bring you down…

… Until, of course, there was…

Suddenly in a free fall, without any chance of catching yourself in sight, you’re hurtling back to the ground with only one thought, one goal, in your mind: Find your way back up.

When a new project comes your way, new opportunities arrive with it, but nothing is ever cut and dry within Hollywood. You’ll have to put your all into this movie if you want any chance at salvaging your career.

Try to stay on script…

Unscripted is a slice-of-life interactive fiction where romance, drama, and the trivialities of life intertwine to create your story. Rated 18+ for explicit language, optional sexual content, drug/alcohol use, and violence.

Features

✰ Customizable MC: Name, gender (male, female, non-binary), sexuality, appearance, some of your past projects, and history with a few of the characters.

✰ Maintain your fan base and make sure that they haven’t forgotten about you. Will you earn more as your journey progresses?

✰ Be interviewed from sidewalk reporters to one of the biggest Late Night Shows within America. Just make sure that you make a good impression— there is such a thing as bad publicity after all.

✰ Romance one of the characters that’ll either have the crowd roaring or scratching their heads. Will you find common ground with your sworn rival? Take a chance at love with someone from your past? Give your hot-and-cold manager a shot? Time will tell…

✰ Adopt a new friend that will hopefully make your lonely nights less so.

✰ Rise back to the ranks of Super Stardom and take back your throne.

Romances

The Rival: Angel Sinclair [M/F] — Ever since you arrived in Hollywood, Angel Sinclair has been there. You’re not quite sure when, or where, your rivalry even began, only that it’s made a ton of tabloids rich with the stories they’d print due to it, and you’re even less sure why you keep running into them on the same lot you’re shooting your newest movie. Is it another twisted form of punishment? With an icy exterior that puts the Arctic to shame, you don’t think you’ve ever seen them smile— at least when they’re not in front of the camera or interacting with fans. Will you uncover more as your random run-ins start losing some of their randomness?

Route: Rivals to Lovers.

The Manager: Kieran/Kiera Walker [M/F] — Probably one of the few reasons you’re still where you are. With a keen mind, a sharp eye for detail, and an even sharper tongue, K has never taken it easy on you, and they’re definitely not doing so now. While pragmatic about their approach, they’re not afraid to tell you what they think, when the time calls for it, which is something that’s definitely caused some tension in the past. Still, you don’t know what you’d do without them; as they’ve stayed steadily by your side through it all. And you don’t think they’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Route: Slow Burn.

The Director: Spencer Hale [M/F] — Last Laugh, the title of the movie you’re now part of, is the passion project that Spencer has been working on for years; trying tirelessly to get it to the silver screen. You would know— after all you were there when they began to write it back in college. Despite not having seen them in years, the gentle look in their eyes hasn’t shifted in the slightest; even if it is a bit more wary now, they don’t hesitate in offering you the same level of kindness as before. Though, even that, still feels different, wrong somehow. Can you recover what’s been lost between you? Or will you forever be two ships passing in the night?

Route: Ex-Best Friend/Lover (can choose if they were your lover or not) || Second Chances

The Newcomer: Cameron/Carmen Rivera [M/F] — An up-and-coming star within Hollywood from the music scene. Having wanted to take a shot at the silver screen for years it’s only with this project that they’ve finally been given the chance— cast as your love interest, no less. You’re not too sure what to make of them. From everything you’ve read they’re sunshine incarnate, with a beaming smile always on their lips, that completely contradicts the darker colors that they typically wear. Something tells you, an almost bone deep intuition, that they’re an array of contradictions all rolled up into one package. Will you ever be able to uncover any of them?

Route: First Love (to them) || Age Gap

The Bodyguard: Roman Locke [M/F] — With a penchant to wear nothing but black, sometimes with muted tones of gray thrown in, you don’t know much about the individual that’s been guarding you with their life for the last five years. Only their stellar history in the Navy, coupled with a possible connection to being a CIA Agent, though that’s never been confirmed, and the other rudimentary facets of their past that any employer needs to know. However, even if they rarely speak, you know that you’re in more than capable hands and that they take their job seriously. But what happens when that professional facade begins to crack?

Route: Bodyguard Romance.

The Assistant: Harley Park [M/F] — Someone who’s very good at their job while also being everywhere and nowhere all at once. You don’t know if they’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your first meeting— with them being in a fandom shirt from a project you had done a couple of years before, with you at center stage on it. With an undeniable charm, if a bit awkward in their approach, Harley is definitely someone that’d you miss interacting with once you got the chance to do so. You just have to get them to actually interact with you first.

Route: Oblivious Love.

#unscripted #hosted games #interactive fiction #interactive novel #upcoming if #no demo #interact if

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absandersongf · 7 months

Text

showers with gf!abby

.ೃ࿐warnings: gf!abby (dominant) / fem!r / r!receiving / use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, etc.) / mention of squirt / pink: reader blue: abby

sfw

when she comes back from the gym, finds you sleeping in her bed and automatically jumps towards to you to hug you.

“abs, what are you doing?! hey, stop, you’re dirty!!”

“ohh, what a shame. i’m afraid you’re also dirty now hehe, we’ll have to take a shower together sweetheart.”

abby always carries you to the shower while you take her by her shoulders and caress her strong arms with your soft hands. (she loves that)

she loves helping you to take off your clothes.

“god, you’re so fucking perfect baby. i’m so lucky to have you my sweetheart.”

she OBVIOUSLY likes to take warm showers.

she always washes your hair while caressing you and kissing your forehead softly.

she admires your body, she doesn’t mind which type of body you have, at her eyes you’re SO PERFECT! <3

abby LOVES to touch every single part of your body, she’s so gentle with every little touch.

she lets you wash her body with her pine soap, you love that smell (you think is so sexy).

she loves feeling your little hands going through her strong body.

nsfw

while she’s washing your body, she runs her fingers through your cunt, making you moan. she loves that shit.

she takes your hands and takes them to her pretty little tits so you can massage them.

she kisses your neck and leaves marks in there, so everyone can know who you belong to.

she press your back to her chest and slides her big hand all over your body to your pussy. running her fingers through your clit.

“oh honey, fuck, you’re so fucking wet my dear.”

abby loves when you call her ‘DADDY’ while she’s fingering you.

she carries you back to bed as you are, wet, soapy, it doesn’t matter, now the only thing abby wants is fuck you.

she gets on top of you and sucks your tits as if it were the last time she did it.

“abs, shit, fuck me hard please. i need you baby.”

her long fingers fuck you very well while you wring with pleasure.

“abby, holy fuck i’m cumming, keep going please”

“c’mon baby, cum for me, cum for daddy, sweetheart, fuuck i wanna taste you so bad.”

she loves when you beg her.

she sometimes makes you squirt, she feels very proud when she gets it.

SHE’S AN AFTERSEX-CARE QUEEN!!! she kisses you very slow and with so much love while she’s hugging you.

“i love you so much baby, you’re the best thing the world could send me.”

“i love you more abs, thanks for making me the most loved person in this world.”

finally, you finish showering and then go to bed to take a nap.

hiii, this was my first hc’s post! and what better than starting with my favorite type of hc's, I hope you liked it although I'm still very bad at this but I promise to improve!

give me ideas that you would like me to do and with which characters/ships from tlou💋

don’t forget to follow me please!! i’m new here lol

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #abby anderson girlfriend #abby anderson smut #abby and reader #the last of us photomode #abby tlou #abby x reader

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theminecraftbee · 8 months

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so a thing this fandom does that remains FASCINATING to me, as a function of the fact a lot of this fandom is people's first fandom or only current fandom, is just... assume a lot of things it does is a scourge that this fandom has invented or doesn't exist outside of it? or like, is uniquely bad here? and i won't deny that sometimes mcyt fandom is a bit more intense by virtue of numbers, but like...

duo names: confusing fandom-injokes to describe duos and groups tend to be an anime fandom thing specifically for many historical reasons, but they're not uncommon. hey quick--if you haven't been in KHR fandom, can you guess what 1827 is? no? i'll give you a hint: that's actually a ship name. or, ygo fans, tell me the difference between puppyshipping, prideshipping, violetshipping, and rivalshipping. my hint is that they're all kaiba ships and two of them are actually the same ship. good luck!

reducing characters to a specific trait: have you read fic in another fandom before? i would recommend you go do so and come back to me. my example here is "sasuke likes tomatoes", for the record.

common au fanon that's confusing to outsiders: my deep cut here is "when i got into certain tv fandoms i was baffled by the existence of sentinel/guide fics", which is a slightly older tv fandom thing so many of you probably don't know what i'm on about. but trust me: in certain fandoms it's ubiquitous and unless you've watched a completely different tv show you're gonna have to entirely pick it up from reading fic. oh hey, hybrid aus and watcher!grian, nice to see your relative here,

fanon being treated as canon: did you know there's this whole bnha character, naomasa, who is treated as canonically having a lie detector quirk? did you know that, best i can tell, that's not in canon anywhere, it just got echoed through fanon enough that everyone treated it as canon? 'fanon trait becomes so ubiquitous everyone assumes it has to be there' is not a new thing. also, batfamily fans, i have been lead to understand the tim and coffee thing is also this.

characters being treated badly to make a different dynamic look better: the fact we have the term 'character bashing' tells you all you need to know, here. if anything my one complaint on this front isn't even that it's happening--it's that i wish bashing and/or "not [character] friendly" was tagged a little more frequently, haha.

characters being reduced to their family dynamics: tale as old as time. "even the family dynamic thing" yes even that. just because this fandom tended to be particularly ship-adverse in the past didn't mean it didn't do basically the same behaviors as any fandom with shipping did with those dynamics, just gen. and other gen fandoms also do that. yes, down to the "and shipping reduces them to a ship, unlike my gen dynamic, which is very in-character; why can't people just be friends?" thing. some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

characters being reduced to their ships: some of you have to have been marvel fans right.

The Discourse: yeah this is an "actively running show" fandom thing, but also a hiatus fandom thing. ask a homestuck about vriskourse sometime. as much as i hate to say it, it probably made doomsday discourse look cute.

and those are just like... some things i've seen people complain about on my dash recently. idk it just hit me there are probably fans in mcyt fandoms who are assuming that some things (like hybrid aus or duo names) are the kind of things that only happen here, so i thought i'd offer some examples of other places they happen! i also have even more examples if you'd like.

to be clear: this isn't shaming anyone for complaining about any of these things. lord knows i go complain to my friends about it all the time, just the other day i was complaining in the category of 'they keep bashing my guy'. it's more of just... a gentle reminder that maybe we're big, maybe we're loud, maybe we have problems... but these problems aren't always unique.

so uh. we're all suffering together i guess...?

#discourse #<- because. yeah.#this isn't meant to start a discourse this is more me laughing about Fandoms Is The Same #its also why i'm not bringing up the More Serious types of Fandoms Is The Same because i don't want to make light of it #and am instead bringing up the pettier ones #this sparked initially by someone acting like duo names are a this-fandom only phenomenon after years of being a ygo fan #and i was like. oh i've done this song and dance many a time.#and then i was thinking about posts complaining about things like fd and ships and everything else and i was like. oh that's an OLD song #so here. so we all remember sometimes that we all suffer together lol #this isn't a vague of anyone in particular i just constantly waver about making this specific post #anyway back to my usual discourse-free self

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eatommo · 1 year

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All is Fair [d.d]

Summary: A heated argument lets emotions, and confessions come to the surface.

CW: din djarin/female reader, the helmet stays on, angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, confessions of love, din leaves bruises on her, marking kink, rough sex, d/s dynamics, use of pet names, p in v, creampie, mentions of gambling/bets, mando'a, oral (m reciving) (I probably missed some sorry)

a/n: This is a little messy, I'm just falling so hard again and need to get some of my own pining out. enjoy :)

You swear you hear the creak of his gloves tightening around your arm, “I told you to stay inside the ship.” His fingers are thick and robust as they dig into your flesh, properly leaving your skin purple. Helmet sweeping side to side he scans the crowd for someone showing too much interest, “The imps have eyes everywhere, you're going to get us killed.”

“Right. Because you’re an average man walking around, definitely not inside your own fucking casket.” His grip gets impossibly tighter, and he stops in his tracks, halting your movement completely. The adrenaline in your body peaks as his blank, concealed, stare fixes on your face.

“You’re tiresome. Did you know that?” His voice is pure vitriol, you’ve never seen him so angry. “I don’t care if I get killed but you can’t be bringing the kid out for a dessert run.”

“It was his idea!” Deep down you know he’s right, but being cooped up in the crest for weeks has made you all antsy, and the kid was very persuasive. “We didn’t just get cookies.” You try and keep your tone even, emotions mounting in your throat. “I got some bacta, and a new compressor for the carbonite chamber.” His posture is iron, shoulders, and head still as a rock and you trail off.

“You could’ve told me to get those things.” He turns away from you and pulls you back towards the ship. There are several coos and cries from the pouch now snug to dins hip and covered by his skewed cape. “You can’t let the baby tell you what to do.”

He’s been nothing but kind to you, and although you hate him confronting you he would’ve gotten anything you asked for, he always has. “You’re right, I’m sorry, but you don’t need to scold me like a child.”

His hand loosens slightly as if he is becoming conscious of hurting you, as he practically shoves you forward with his body while you instinctually resist. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to me.”

You set your jaw, swallowing more bitter words, and scan the crowd with him, slightly turning your head every few steps to get a glimpse of people behind you, just like he taught you. Miraculously, you make it to the hangar without another bitter word.

Even as he pays the balance of the ship repairs his hand doesn’t leave its place on your arm, the man glancing between the two of you suspiciously. Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, and you begin to feel like a scruffed loth cat. “Do you have to drag me by my bones?!” You twist your arm in an attempt to escape, but all it does is shoot lightning through your arm down to your wrist.

He remains silent until he practically throws you onto the ramp of the ship. To further your shame, you trip and fall to your knees scraping them both on the rough texture of the ramp. With a huff and barely-kept tears, you storm up the ramp and drop the sack of supplies on a crate, heading straight to the fresher for a rinse in the shower, in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

The ship takes off in no time with a lurch and the immediate hum of hyperspace envelops the crest. Only then, do you feel safe enough to let out a choked frustrated sob. The cry is relatively quick, and the water does wonders for the tight knot of the new bruise on your arm, but not quite the cleansing of your heart you were praying for.

You rinse the soap from your hair rigorously and not kindly, in an attempt to shake the need for these bruises to linger until they faded without the use of bacta. He would think you were being ridiculous, he might even taunt you about being young and dumb if he found out how you felt about him. You’d be lying if these weren’t tears of heartbreak, he embarrassed and chastised you in front of crowds of people and practically dragged you halfway across town.

Yet, you found yourself wanting to seek him for comfort. Longing for the long nights of telling him about your childhood on bespin, and the comfort of his laugh as he gave you a simple story about the fighting corps that had your eyes full of admiration and bewilderment. He had been kind and soft and protective. Today was the first time you remember him being so assertive with you, with enemies and bounties yes, but never to you.

Maybe it was time for you to take off. The thought felt like a slap on the cheek, and you bite your lips as you swipe across the ripped flesh of your knee. It is not a terrible scrape, but the skin is tender and bruised around the minor cuts. You wanted him to apologize, and you wanted him to see you bleed, you knew he’d feel terrible, he stepped on your foot last week and apologized three times.

Stepping out of the shower you realize that in your rush to the refresher, you didn’t grab a pair of clothes. Swearing to yourself, you take a look at your dirty clothes from earlier. They're caked in sand, and rather than put them on you’ll wrap yourself in -shit- his towel. Sending a prayer to the maker, whoever she may be, you open the doors and set your gaze on the floor towards your bunk and set course confidently. Unaware he is watching intently from the container you left your sack on until his boots are in your vision.

He hears the squeak die in your throat and watches your heart race as he scans your near-naked frame with his visor. His breath catches in his throat at the sight, his hand still radiating warmth from holding your skin even with his gloved hand. He wanted you, and his body responded to the small friction of your body against his front like he was a teenager. Then he starts picking up on the scrape on your knees, and the swell of a bruise on your left arm. As your heart leaps into your throat, he drops to the floor on his knees, he hurt you. In his scared frustration, he scolded and towed you around like a misbehaving massiff.

This is where his career failed him, he could de-escalate a bar fight, but he had heard apologizing to a woman was not easy, especially when he so desperately needed you to forgive him. Not to mention the beautiful distraction of his cock twitching in his pants as he settles on your face, trying not to think about your skin smelling like him. “Focus.” Fuck. Did he just say that out loud?

“What did you just say?” You take a larger step forward, your leg peaks out of the wrap of the towel, wrath keeping you from caring. “I always admired your bravery, and now I’m wondering where all the audacity came from.”

He stammers, modulator picking up his sharp confused gasp, “No. I mean-”.

You don’t give him the chance to finish. “I want to go home.” The words dry your tongue to ash. But his posture goes rigid again, and for the first time since you met, you’re afraid of him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” As a wave crashes over him, he resets. His shoulders slumped over, and the helmet hanging as if he is adverting his eyes. You watch with bated breath as he reaches up in a familiar movement, flicking through types of vision processors in his helmet, and your blood turns cold.

With a fluid movement, he guides your hand to his shoulder with his free hand and reaches for your calf with the other, pulling your leg free to examine the scuff on your knee.

You misread him and in your panic pull away, falling over your own feet his grip catches you as your towel parts to reveal almost your entire body to him. He’s standing slightly, having to abandon his seat in his efforts to catch you. The helmet snaps to your eyes, and then to the wall beside you as he stands you up.

You take a step back while adjusting your towel and holding it closer to you. “I’m mad that you treated me like a child.” He keeps his eyes trained on the wall, “I shouldn’t-”

“I panicked, I was worried.” He is defensively talking over you, but also afraid to tell you of his feelings for you so his voice is low.

“Be carted through the city on a leash like some misbehaving whore.” The words are pouring out of you as if coating your tongue with honey as they crack across his bleeding heart, far too much happening too fast as he scrambles to catch up.

“I want to go home.” You say it again, but this time it's less convincing as he comes to rest on his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” He creeps pathetically closer to you, resting back onto his feet and leaning the forehead of his helm against your stomach seeking comfort that's more intimate than you’ve ever offered. “I’m not good at these things.” He shifts again, this time looking toward your face until just the chin of the visor is digging into the skin of your abdomen, “I’ve never had the chance to look after something I’ve cared about so much.” His voice although clear is quiet, shy even, “I was so scared I didn’t even think until I saw you set the bacta on the crate.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your face wordless as you watch him grovel, you must be dreaming.

“Ni ceta.” His heart aches in time with the throbbing pain of his knees on the floor, and for the first time since pridefully placing his helm on his head, he wishes he could abandon it at your feet.

Everything he does is intense, he is fiercely protective, he is lethal, and you might even describe him as passionate when it comes to his creed. The child, who you assume is somewhere sleeping, was possibly the most fiercely protected baby in the galaxy. Having come to know him over the last few months, you wondered how he ever survived on his own, he cherished the companionship the two of you have brought and he always seems to welcome your antics, often at his expense. Like a light in a dim alley, the conclusion flickers in your brain, it's the only thing that makes sense.

“I’m sorry I brought him into danger.” You clear your throat, unable to look away from the dim reflection of yourself in his visor. “I’m just feeling a little like a prisoner.”

He says that unfamiliar phrase again, “Ni ceta, mesh’la.” [I kneel, gorgeous] In what you assume is Mando’a, “I will do better.” Your hands twitch at your side, as you fight the urge to caress his head.

“Okay.” You give a reserved nod, the ice in your heart melted and you feel as vulnerable as ever. “Is the kid asleep?”

Mando gives a soft hum, “He ate a few cookies and then promptly collapsed in his pram in the cockpit.” You realize his voice is hoarse but he clears it, “Can I give you some bacta, and make you some caf? I know you won't forgive me right away.” He trails off, as the glint of his helm holds your stare.

“I’m not upset with you anymore, you don’t need to get anything for me, I can still walk just fine.” A small giggle erupts from your chest, surprising the two of you. There he is.

He stands but doesn’t do anything but lean back slightly, “I want to. I feel terrible.” You take a step back as he stands, he speaks in a hushed tone, “I’d carry you around if that’s what you’d wanted.”

There’s a glitch in your brain he doesn’t miss, and it's hard to ignore the small sound that you make, suddenly he’s thankful for the privacy of the helmet and the loose-fitting fabric of his flight suit. “Is it what you want?” This is an interaction he is slightly more comfortable with, albeit a little rusty.

You clear your throat and shake your head as if the intrusive thoughts will fade with the harsh movement. “Yes and no.” You settle on a bit of honesty while also playing coy. “Who doesn’t want to be carried around by a big strong mysterious man? It’s every girl's dream.”

“Maybe I should add that to the list of services I provide.” He is leaning up against the walls of your bunk, subconsciously blocking you from abandoning the conversation and seeking the warmth and privacy in your bunk.

“We probably would make a killing. But I wouldn’t want you to…” You trail off, not initially liking what the taunting was morphing into, but what the hell? “To carry anyone but me if I am honest.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to?” He’s tasting the sweetness of your confession on his tongue, processing it while trying to keep the tone light.

“I want you to want to do those things outside of guilt.” The conversation is far past smooth, nothing like the holodramas you’ve imagined the two of you a part of. “I want you to like spending time with me.”

“I do feel guilty, but I would do these things for you regardless, and I do like spending time with you. We both do, or I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you here.” There’s an air of caution in his statement, he’s scared of rushing headfirst into his adoration of you and scaring you, even if his face is protected in his bashful admission.

“You do?” You squint an eye at him as if scanning him through your own tech-clad helmet. “Are we on the same page?” You chew on your lip, analyzing his cool, relaxed posture before settling on his pitch-black visor again, in the flicker of your heart you know he’s meeting your stare. “I like you.”

His chest rises sharply with an inhale as if he’s been injured and you quickly try and find a way to backpedal out of this conversation. “Well, maybe we aren’t. I was going to say I’m in love with you.”

If you didn’t know the child was asleep, you would’ve thought he was pushing you toward his dad. There was a tug at your heart and you rush to embrace him, met with the cool metal against your bare skin. Your instinct calls for you to kiss him, and you want to terribly, but you’re unsure of what his customs allow.

You let your hands search for the gaps in his armor, looking for warmth and settling right below the gusset of armor on his back and squeeze him so impossibly tight he groans contently. “This feels so weird, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.” Your cheeks heat, and he chuckles.

“What are you trying to do?” He finally seems to have settled into the space in front of you, a pliant but also stiff bundle of warmth juxtaposed by the cool faces of his beskar plates. “I can take the armor off if you’re trying to get comfortable.”

“I know how to do it, I just don’t know if I’m allowed to. I want to kiss you Mando…” The bashfulness in the way you bury your face into the crook of his arm, makes his heart skip to an unfamiliar beat in his chest.

“I can take everything but the helmet off, I would eventually. I’m not ready for that.” Now he’s the insecure one, how could you want to be with him without seeing him? “I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry.”

You sense the insecurity right away, and rather than letting it fester in his always-thinking brain, you do your best to soothe his worries with a caress and a change of subject. “Everything else you say?” Lifting your brow, you hook the rim of his chest plate with your fingernail, separating it slightly from its place. “I can wait for the helmet,” you look up through your eyelashes, “ I want to feel you.”

Lacing your fingers through his, you stroke the palm of his hand silently asking for permission to remove them. He nods slowly, and you slide beneath the fabric slowly revealing the tanned, callused skin. Human skin.

You remove the other glove, letting your fingers soak in his radiating warmth. Drawing long slow circles on his palms, you search for his approval but his head is fixed on your hands in his. He is rigid and his posture is stiff, as if afraid if he moves you’ll stop.

Every nerve in his body is alight, he’s practically vibrating as you run your fingers along his skin, your hands are cold and feel wonderfully soft. It takes everything not to whine when you go to take his vambraces off and the comfort of your touch is ripped away from him.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You admit, well aware of the whistling birds that are more than dangerous and you're afraid to set them off. He laughs nervously, and you’re leaning so close to his face that you can almost hear the air without the modulator.

“It’s safe.” He reaches over and shows you how to remove the armor. As you lift it away you motion for him to remove the other one while you get to work on his chest plate. The heavy metal plate joins the rest of it in a compartment to his left, and you lay your hands flat on the broad plain of his chest.

He moves, remembering his strength, and tilts your elbow until your hand is resting on the zipper hidden beneath the collar of his cape. Working in tandem, he removes his cuirass as you unzip his flight suit.

Your vision rakes over the ripple of his muscles, a few bruises and scars mark his skin, and you without thinking lean in and leave an open-mouthed kiss over a yellow bruise on his left peck. This time you are close enough to hear the whine that escapes from beneath the helmet in time with his posture going slack with a flood of goosebumps on his skin.

The noises go straight to your core, the idea of this hard exterior broken by a hint of your mouth on his chest is enough of an invite to step closer. Slotting between his feet, you press your mouth to the center of his sternum, chasing it as he flinches away from your cold hands brushing against his lower stomach before curling into the fabric to pull him tight against you.

He steps back, maneuvering around the crate and leaning against the wall behind it so he can slot his thigh between your legs gently inviting you to grind against the cool metal plate, only separated by an ever-falling towel his brain scrambles, only thinking about how your mouth feels hot against his skin and wondering what you taste like.

You lean harder into him, feeling the weight of his cock dig into your stomach and trying to focus on nibbling on the tight muscle of his shoulder as the fabric of his flight suit falls off his shoulders. You hear a loud clang as he throws his head back, likely breaking something behind him, when you dig in your teeth and suck hard on one of his collarbones. You suckle and kitten lick at the same time, the groans and shivers only provoke you further, only pulling away when your lips start to feel swollen.

He’s thankful again for the privacy of his helmet, as frustrating as it is to not return the favor he can’t seem to regain control of his limbs and jaw, everything going slack as he fights the urge to rut against your body like a horny teenager.

The weight of what's left of his armor is dragging the thick fabric to the floor, revealing the rich sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the tortuously scandalous dip of his hip bones. The dull ache of your jaw is ignored as you trail down his warm skin, laving across his nipples as you take your time kissing him, tasting the salt of his skin.

You blow across the trail of kisses, knowing that the air will feel cold and feeling a little dauntless. A shiver rolls through him, bringing his hips forward as if begging for your attention. His cock struggles against the fabric of his underclothes, its weight heavy and practically weeping a delirious amount of precum. It's the hitch of your breath at the realization of his size that breaks his stupor. Digging one hand into your hair and shoving the final confines of his clothing to the ground, he takes his cock into his hand, using the precome to tease the head just above your waiting mouth as you admire.

You finally meet the visor with your eyes again, as he stokes himself tauntingly above you, he’s thicker than any you’d seen before, his fingers not even connecting around its circumference, and the flesh is a tad darker than his skin, with slightly darker veins throbbing for your waiting mouth.

He swears under his breath, as you let your tongue rest on the underside of his thick tip. He pulls you onto him, barely pressing into your mouth but the edge of his heady moan is irresistible, you need to hear it endlessly until he begged you to stop. You take more of him in on the accompanying thrusts, swallowing around him as tears brim your eyes. There's a sense of desperation as he loses his composure his movements less consistent and his body relaxes into the skilled warmth of your mouth.

By the time you work your way to the base, his sparse curls tickle your nose as you hum around him in contentment, and drool runs down your chin onto your chest. You realize in embarrassment that you were holding onto the towel, placing it under your injured knee for padding, and you settle more comfortably onto the ground, allowing you to start caressing his balls with your hand.

His gasp is sinful, depraved even as his hand furls tighter in your hair, teasing the line between pain and pleasure. You moan around him as he twitches against the back of your throat. Gently you shake your head side to side, as you get the last inch or so into your mouth. You hear another loud smash as his head hits the wall a second time, you pause waiting to hear the hiss of a cracked pipe. Instead, he tugs your head back and forth, hand griping tight but the pace is teasingly gentle.

Humming in approval, you look up, watching his body fight for breath between curses and moans. Maker was he handsome, his skin was riddled with various scars and bruises but remained soft and clean, the muscles of his body taut with pleasure and even quivering in his legs as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

Surprising himself, he guides your head all the way off him, letting himself get a good look at your swollen wet mouth and your naked body as he pulls you back to your feet. “You’re so beautiful,” he is practically whispering, and you feel as though he’s caressing you with his voice, “Can I,” you step closer to him, pressing more open mouth kisses to the tender base of his throat, “Kriff, Can I fuck you?”

You hum against his skin in affirmation before taking his collarbone between your teeth and sucking a fresh mark into it. His arms wrap around your frame as he effortlessly lifts you and you wrap around him, pressing a few gentler, less hungry kisses to the helm where you envision his hairline. He manages to open the door to his bunk and lays you down.

He finally gets your entire body laid open for him, letting his hands caress your sides, committing the shapes of your body to memory as he runs over the planes of your body, stopping for a moment to drag his rough fingers over your nipples. You arch into his touch, feeling as though he is dragging a heated blade of pleasure across your skin. Coaxing your thighs open with the backs of his hands, he emits a low groan as he swipes two fingers through your folds. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he rolls your clit between two fingers effectively shutting you up. He nudges against your entrance and then slowly stretches you open while continuously toying with your clit, scissoring two fingers while paying close attention to any shifts in your breath and small noises.

He pushes his fingers up, and your legs try to close as the new pleasure makes your vision fuzzy. “Keep those legs open for me c’yare.” He demands, massaging that spot a few more times, and you feel as though you’re gasping for each breath in time with the movements of his fingers.

Just when you’re about to start begging for him to let you cum, he stops completely, using the moisture on his hands to slick up his length haphazardly before lining up with your fluttering pussy.

Again, his gentleness stuns you, slowly rocking his hips as he edges deeper into your core. The stretch is shocking at first, but he gives you plenty of time to adjust, slowly circling your clit with his thumb. He hooks your legs around his waist, grinding deeper and deeper until his face is hovering inches from yours.

He presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. Each slap of his hips is punctuated by your breathy gasp that fogs up his visor. He’s finally close enough to your skin to smell his soap lingering, and it awakens a part of his brain he didn’t know existed.

“You’re mine, mesh’la.” He rubs your clit just a fraction harder, “I wanna hear you say it.”

You struggle to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but the need to please him is greater than your need for breath, “Yours Mando,” His body is fire compared to the cool air of the crest, causing your skin to flush hotly, and a sheen of sweat coating your body, “Anything you want.”

His grunting is entirely animalistic, the ship could fall out of hyperspace or get attacked by purgills and he would be none the wiser. The tight grip of your pussy drives him further into insanity, he feels his orgasm creep up his spine and even then he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. “Yeah? I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

He sits up slightly, changing the angle of his hips to shove impossibly deeper into you as you tighten around him, your own orgasm brimming. With each faltering snap of his hips, your whine grows louder until you’re pleading with him to cum inside of you, feeling like it’s the only possible way to bring you relief.

He cradles your head in his arm, needing to feel your moans ripple across his skin as he feels you squeeze him like a vice, your legs shaking and practically bucking him off you with the force of your orgasm. It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside you and grinding deep until his nerves are on shot and his body is ready to collapse from the stimulation.

A few quick moments pass, and while collecting your wits, you search his visor again, longing for just a bit of eye contact, but unable to find anything, you give him a soft smile. “I owe Peli 50 credits.”

Almost unbelievably bubbly, he resigns “I owe her 150, I think we got caught in a sure bet.” You feign surprise. “I can’t believe she knew before we did.”

“Sounds like she was a double agent. Maybe she just thinks she’ll get another baby out of it.” Your cheeks heat before you can finish speaking and he’s blushing profusely beneath the helmet.

He hums in contentment, letting some of his body weight rest on you as he slips free, before shifting to lay your head on his chest. “I love you.” His hand rubs circles at the base of your neck, but he can’t help but stare at the dark bruises on your arm. “I’ll get up and get you some bacta in a moment.”

“I love you too.” You listen intently to the steady falling rhythm of his heart, as you come down from your highs together. “I think I’d rather have them.” You gently run your fingers over the deep purple marks you’ve sucked into his skin, smiling sadistically at his sharp intake of breath. “It’s only fair.”

#din djarin fanfic #din x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months

Text

Lovers Say Goodbye | 3 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chap 5 , -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to read all your comments. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A few Months Later

"I just realized," Bucky murmured, his voice a low rumble transmitted through the earpiece.

"What is it?" Steve responded, concern lacing his words.

Bucky kept his eye focused on the target through the rifle scope. "She never spoke much about her family when we were together," he explained, his voice devoid of emotion. "Only brief mentions."

It was true. You'd never delved deep into your family life, only mentioning their retirement and love for world travel aboard cruise ships. Back then, Bucky had harbored anxieties about being accepted by your parents, worried they would disapprove of their relationship.

However, the truth's unveiling didn't erase the raw pain in his eyes. Instead, it sparked a chilling realization: you were equals. Both of you are masters of the deceptive game.

"Well, something must have smitten you good," Steve chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

Bucky's response was devoid of humor. "Sex. Good sex."

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed through the earpiece. "No need to get graphic with me."

A phantom sensation washed over Bucky, a memory of your touch. He recalled the caress of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath against his neck, the intimacy of your body pressed against his. His mind fixated on a specific detail - the strength evident in your legs wrapped around his hips.

Bucky wondered, was the pleasure mutual? Did the experience hold the same significance for you, or was it just another masterful performance?

"Such a shame," he muttered, the bittersweet memory turning to ash in his mouth. "Good memories turned to ashes."

His words were cut short by the sharp crack of the rifle firing. Steve, observing the scene through a remote monitor, cheered. "Bullseye!" he exclaimed, the celebratory tone at odds with the gravity of the situation.

Taking lives was Bucky's expertise. His agency issued the order, and he executed it with unwavering precision, regardless of the complexity of the mission. Most targets were simply names and faces, strangers with no personal connection.

This time, however, the target was significant. He had become a pawn in Bucky's desperate game, a calculated move orchestrated solely to attract your attention. He had murdered an informant.

This time, the target was a high-ranking CIA informant, sacrificed solely to get your attention.

Steve warned, "This is a double-edged sword, Buck. They'll know your hand is in this, and they'll know it's personal."

Bucky's voice was cold and resolute. "That's the point. They'll know this is my work. They'll know it's personal."

He held firm to his belief that his reckless act, taking out the CIA informant, would draw you back. He envisioned them sending you to him, a twisted reunion of sorts.

However, reality unfolded differently. His agency commended him on a job well done, their client's debt to the agency now settled. This outcome was the polar opposite of his intended result.

Meanwhile, you remained oblivious to the chaos he'd unleashed across the miles.

You were deep within the isolated European country, laser-focused on rescuing the hostages. The news of the assassinated informant and the potential storm brewing back home hadn't reached you yet.

The adrenaline coursed through your veins, a familiar yet intoxicating sensation. Your mind buzzed with activity, fueled by the thrill of the unknown and the ever-present danger. This was the lifeblood you craved, the constant stimulation that had been absent during the past two years.

Flashback Start

Two years spent undercover in a war-torn country, posing as a florist. A stark contrast to the thrilling, high-octane missions you had always thrived on. But it had been necessary. The previous agents sent to infiltrate Bucky's life had all returned in body bags. You were the agency's last resort, their ace in the hole.

They had given you a mere 24 hours to transform yourself from seasoned operative to unassuming florist. The moment you saw Bucky step into your shop, everything you'd built, every practiced smile and fabricated story, teetered on the edge of collapse.

Your hand hovered near the concealed gun nestled beneath the counter, yet it remained unmoving. Something was different. The usual cacophony of the city seemed muted, replaced by an intense silence that amplified the sound of your own ragged breaths and the frantic thump of your heart. Bucky's eyes locked with yours, his gaze a stormy sea of conflicting emotions.

For a moment, the world held its breath. Time seemed to slow, stretching into an eternity where only the two of you existed. The air crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a potent mix of danger and something else, something you couldn't quite define.

Your mind whirred as Bucky approached the counter, requesting flowers for a funeral. You meticulously combed through your inventory, carefully selecting blooms that held the weight of grief and remembrance. The familiar scent of lilies and carnations filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

As Bucky wordlessly left the shop, the heavy bouquet cradled in his arms, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You watched his broad, fearless shoulders slump as he headed towards the funeral, a lone figure burdened by sorrow. It was no ordinary funeral; you knew it was for his former handler, the man whose death had orchestrated everything – the death of Bucky's handler, Operation Pandora, and ultimately, your own undercover operation.

Initially, the CIA's instructions were simple: observe Bucky. They were aware of his safe houses near your flower shop, anticipating his return and potential request for employment. However, the agency and you, along with them, had never expected this turn of events.

Your new mission: to distract Bucky, to prevent him from digging into the death of his former handler. While you played your part, Director Brandon and a team of agents worked tirelessly to eliminate any trace of Operation Pandora. It was a meticulous process, ensuring absolute secrecy, hence the two-year duration.

When Brandon called and said, "It's finished," you left. Leaving behind the lingering whispers of a life that had become a carefully constructed facade, you didn't hesitate.

You lied when he asked if you regretted anything. Those two years with Bucky were a break, a rest from the usual danger. But it wasn't real because you were lying while he genuinely cared.

Flashback Ended

You wanted to forget everything, so you took a mission where you couldn't contact anyone. Your only job was to save hostages, which took time, planning, and working together. It was hard, and you got hurt, but finally, your team succeeded in saving all the hostages.

Months later, when you finally boarded the private jet for your return, you were surprised to find Director Brandon onboard. Usually, he remained at headquarters, awaiting reports of successful missions. His presence sent a tremor of apprehension through you.

Brandon gestured towards the seat across from him. "Sit down."

You complied, fastening your seatbelt as you settled in. "Why'd you come all the way here?" you inquired, a cold compress pressed against your right eye, the throbbing evidence of a recent punch.

The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air before Brandon spoke, handing you a file. "You need to see this."

Your eyebrows shot up as you set down the ice pack. "Another mission?"

Brandon shook his head. "No. It's about the aftermath of... what we did."

Curiosity piqued, you flipped open the file. Your breath hitched as a photograph greeted you: Bucky, his face obscured by a mask, gun clutched in one hand, a hostage held captive in the other. You'd never witnessed such raw fury in him before, but a deep-seated certainty gnawed at you - you were the spark that ignited this inferno.

With a defeated sigh, you closed the file. "Can't you handle this?"

Brandon's voice held a hint of regret. "If I could, I wouldn't have come to get you."

Another sigh, heavier this time, escaped your lips. "He wants to talk to me."

Brandon nodded silently. You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes. "Just tell me when we land."

Each passing moment was fraught with tension, the image of Bucky burning into your mind. The weight of your choice, the lie you'd woven, pressed down on you like a physical burden. As the plane soared through the clouds, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation, the consequence of a past drenched in deception.

*************

The car sped through the bustling city streets, a tense silence hanging heavy in the air between you and Brandon. The file containing Bucky's photo as a ruthless hostage-taker lay discarded on your lap, the image seared into your memory.

"We have to prepare for the worst," Brandon said, his voice grim. "We don't know what that bastard will do to you."

You remained quiet, your gaze fixed on the cityscape blurring past the window. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within you: regret, guilt, and a flicker of fear.

Brandon continued, "You can't do this alone, Y/N."

"I know," you finally responded, your voice barely audible.

Brandon offered a heavy sigh. "Good. I've gathered some agents who..."

His sentence was abruptly cut short by a deafening explosion that rocked the car. The rear driver-side tire gave way, sending the vehicle swerving wildly across the street.

"What the hell?!" Brandon exclaimed, his voice laced with shock.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, the years of undercover training kicking in. "It's him," you stated, your voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around you.

"Damn it! Where is he? We wiped our tracks clean," Brandon cursed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he fought to regain control of the car.

You craned your neck to look through the rear window, spotting a lone figure standing on the overpass ahead of them. Bucky. He held a sniper rifle aimed directly at your car, his masked face unreadable.

"There," you said, pointing towards him.

Panic flickered in Brandon's eyes before he slammed on the gas pedal, shouting to the driver, "Faster!"

The chase was on, a desperate attempt to outmaneuver a vengeful Bucky and reach the safety of the agency headquarters. The once quiet car ride had morphed into a heart-pounding race against time, the line between hunter and hunted blurring with each passing moment.

The car lurched and swayed, tires screeching in protest as Brandon fought to regain control. Explosions echoed behind them, a deadly symphony composed of shattered glass and mangled metal. Each boom sent tremors through the car, a chilling reminder of Bucky's deadly precision.

You watched, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, as one by one, the cars accompanying them were systematically eliminated. Bucky, a relentless specter on the overpass above, picked them off with chilling ease. Each shot rang out like a death knell, extinguishing the hopes of their backup and leaving you and Brandon increasingly isolated.

"Damn him!" Brandon roared, frustration and fear coloring his voice. "He's like a goddamn ghost!"

With a final, bone-jarring explosion, the last remaining car sputtered and screeched to a halt, flames licking at its mangled frame. You and Brandon exchanged a grim look, the weight of their predicament settling like a leaden weight in your gut.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a figure materialized on the edge of the overpass, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

Bucky, his mask a stark contrast to the golden light, dropped down onto the hood of the flaming car with an agility that defied physics. He landed in a crouch, the glint of his rifle barrel reflecting the dying sun as he turned his gaze towards you.

A tremor ran through you, a primal mix of shock and awe. You'd known of his skills, witnessed glimpses of his prowess during your time together, but this... this was something else entirely. He moved with a lethal grace, a predator stalking its prey, and the cold certainty in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

"Shit," you muttered, the single word encompassing the maelstrom of emotions churning within you. With a chilling certainty, you knew this was no longer just a mission gone wrong. This was personal.

You fumbled for your gun, the familiar weight a cold comfort in your trembling hand. But your movements were sluggish, weighed down by the shock and the adrenaline wearing off. Before you could even raise the weapon, a click echoed in the air, the sound of a safety being disengaged. It was too late.

Bucky lowered his mask, revealing a face etched with a mixture of pain and fury. His eyes, once full of warmth and affection, now held the hollow glint of a man consumed by vengeance.

"Welcome back, Alex," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or should I say, Y/N?"

The familiar name, once a term of endearment, now sounded foreign, laced with a bitter edge. You remained silent, the weight of his words and the betrayal they carried settling heavily in your chest.

He waited, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something, perhaps a flicker of recognition, a spark of remorse. But there was only a void, a reflection of the shattered trust that lay between you.

"I've been waiting for a long time," he finally spoke, his voice devoid of its usual gruffness, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

You found your voice then, a mere whisper escaping your lips. "Why are you doing this?"

Bucky remained silent for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the burning car nearby. He took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving yours.

He reached out, his calloused fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of familiarity and fear.

"Don't you know?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm doing this to get your attention."

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Author Note:

My dear readers and followers,

Could you please share your opinions about this series with me?

If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear why it appealed to you.

If not, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and advice on improving the series.

Thank you!

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