#I really want to know how the baby bottle is supposed to fit in this context
Text
Ok this is very random and old news but I’m rewatching some videos on myhouse.wad and had been reading some posts about it mostly the ones that talked about how it can be interpreted as a queer horror story of Thomas and Steven, there’s a lot of obvious context that fits the story but there’s one thing that I’m wondering about.
The baby bottle.
Almost every other item you collect in My House are relics that Steven shared with Tom, the most notable item is a wedding ring which is very clear it can be that Steve and Tom were married, in the airport section you go into the women’s restroom where it becomes covered in blood then you pick up the pills and leave but the sign changes to the men’s restroom but this also makes sense if you believe that either Steve or Tom were trans or questioning their gender identity. These can easily fit into the thematics of Steve and Tom being lgbt.
But the one thing that I haven’t really seen mentioned with this theory is how the baby bottle fits into this. When you go into the attic there’s a crib with a baby bottle in it, when you pick it up it says “it wasn’t meant to be” which sounds a lot like a miscarriage or at least some form of child loss. Not to mention how one of Steven’s diary entries talks about a dream he had where he saw a baby in the crib but it wasn’t doing so well and cried which made him freak out and wake up.
Now what I’m wondering is did Steve and Tom have a child that they adopted? Did Steve used to be married to a woman and she miscarried? I know people don’t care about this mod anymore but for like the 2 people left can anyone please give me their thoughts about what the bottle could mean?
#myhouse.wad#tw miscarriage#my house#doom mods#doom#indie horror game#horror games#not off#please can anyone tell what this could mean I’m losing my mind#I really want to know how the baby bottle is supposed to fit in this context#everything else makes total sense and it really cements the themes of the story#but it’s just this one roadblock that I haven’t really seen anyone talk about#sorry this isn’t off related I just go into random rabbit holes sometimes
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
the things you do for love ; satoru gojo
synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.
word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3
a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress
”— no.”
the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.
but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.
”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”
”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”
”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”
”not happening.”
”but —”
”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”
and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him.
but giving in just isn’t an option, this time.
under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.
(his happiness is your priority, after all.)
but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.
he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.
”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”
a sharp scoff flows from your lips.
he can’t be serious.
you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.
— it’s so frilly.
you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice.
it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week.
every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.
from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.
(this made me think of you. i want you to have it.
i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)
a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him.
buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could.
(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)
which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package —
to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.
— and then your mind screeched to a halt.
the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —
you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit.
if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards.
but no — he wanted you to wear it.
and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.
”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”
”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.
”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?”
sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.
the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.
a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too.
”— because you love me?”
satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.
and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly.
valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”
”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?”
(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)
”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”
satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble —
until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.
”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.
”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.
and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak —
but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.
satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.
and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer.
”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?”
attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly.
it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows.
”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”
”an hour? no way!” you scoff.
and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.
”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”
”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”
”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”
oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t.
not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love.
another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”
satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”
a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”
”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”
another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”
satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”
a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.
”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”
”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”
the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.
”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”
he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.
(even if you don’t.)
and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all.
and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.
— a sigh.
you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant.
… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this…
and if it’s just for a short while…
silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.
”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”
”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate.
and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.
”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry.
he looks so earnestly giddy.
eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.
(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)
”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.
”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.
a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…
”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.
”really? i think it’s cute, though.”
”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”
satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.
you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”
”— i’m taking pictures.”
…
the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.
”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”
”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”
stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.
”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”
you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”
”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.
(what have you gotten yourself into?)
with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”
”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”
”yeah, yeah…”
the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.
(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)
and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings.
it’s a perfect fit.
a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.
after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit.
and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.
it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves.
and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute.
still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.
(what the hell are you even doing?)
a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?
(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?)
”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.
”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”
satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.
(all he can think of is you, you, you.)
curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.
you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.
when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.
”… i don’t want to.”
satoru pauses.
he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.
”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”
you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”
a moment passes.
”… do i have to?”
the corners of his lips curl up.
ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”
a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.
until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.
it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.
(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)
there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together.
and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.
after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”
— but satoru doesn’t answer.
he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.
the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear.
(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected.
still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.)
”… why aren’t you saying anything?”
the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet.
he’s completely stunned.
no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck.
and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.
crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.
”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy.
upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.
— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.
it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.
god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.
crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal.
even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.
and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears.
yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.
he’s so cute.
(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)
so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.
and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.
”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”
satoru stiffens.
(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)
slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle.
with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration.
satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.
a moment passes. then two.
then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.
”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”
a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look.
a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.
all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.
evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression.
”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.”
squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear.
a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”
”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.
”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”
a huff, lighthearted.
suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.
your heart flutters.
satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet.
”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”
a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”
”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”
before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.
”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”
a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”
satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.
(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)
”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all.
it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.
”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips.
”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins.
then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.
his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin.
(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)
then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.
his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin.
”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.
he’s so annoying.
(but you’re far too in love to say no.)
so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.
satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.
when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.
”cutie.”
you blink.
averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.
”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”
suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”
”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”
”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.
”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile.
”and then we’re burning it.”
”noooo!”
”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.
”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”
”that’s kinda the point, toru.”
”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”
he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.
”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”
a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”
”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”
”at lil’ old me? really?”
”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”
satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”
a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”
a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.
”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”
”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”
”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”
and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible.
satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.
in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there.
eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.
satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful —
and yours, wholly and thoroughly.
(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…
what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)
#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo#he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl#he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard.#just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree#im a firm believer in flustered satoru also…..#it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working#and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks#who said that.#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#gojo fluff#jjk fluff
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
My Future in You | 2.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.
Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, fluff, vague mentions of a blowjob, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, domestic fluff, character sickness at the end, we: 3.8k
…
“Bradley, your son wants you.” You mumble into his bare chest, eyes practically glued shut, the steady chorus of his breathing already trying to lull you back to sleep mid-sentence.
If you had told him a year ago that he would be spending his prime-time Saturday 2am slot just barely awake, cradling a girl and getting ready to go and change a diaper — he would have turned and run for the hills. Now that he’s in it, it’s not so bad.
As he turns his face into the curve of your neck and inhales the familiar scent of you, the idea of getting out of bed, now that seems bad.
“He’s not even crying yet.” Bradley mumbles into your hair, his eyelids heavy, the mattress soft and pillowy under him, inviting him back to sleep. Your palm smacks into his stomach and he groans. “Fine, I’m up. I’m up.”
The baby is just starting to grumble really, kicking his feet and waving up at the mobile above his bassinet. He’s really starting to look at things now. The light fixture in the living room seems to fascinate the kid.
Bradley leans into you and he kisses your hair, before pushing the covers back and rolling out of bed with a groan. He pads around to the other side of the bed and squints tiredly at the bassinet. Thomas kicks his legs and flaps his hands, apparently excited to be awake at this time of night.
“Come here, little guy,” He whispers, his thumbs stretching far across the infant’s tiny chest, his fingers hooking under his back. He lifts him and sets him against his chest, rubbing his back softly. “I’ve got ya.”
He’s getting real wriggly now. He turns his face into Bradley’s bare chest and coos, arms and legs stretching out as Bradley holds him close.
You hum softly and roll onto your back, blinking through the darkness to look at the two of them. Thomas fits against his shoulder like a puzzle piece. Bradley’s hand still covers the entire length of his back. He always looks so doll-like in his dad’s arms.
“Go back to sleep, babe.” Bradley urges you, patting Thomas’ back and turning to head for the living room. He’s hungry. Bradley has learned that’s what this kind of grizzling sound means — he’s a lot louder when he needs a diaper change.
He almost has it down to a routine now. Could maybe do it with his eyes closed if he was trying. He blinks tiredly, swaying side to side as he lets a few droplets fall from the tip of the bottle onto the inside of his wrist.
“A little longer, little man.” Bradley whispers, setting the bottle down again, shifting Thomas in his arms. He’s getting bigger. A whole two and a half pounds in the last five weeks. Longer too. His feet now extend beyond the length of Bradley’s forearm and onto his palm.
His nose wrinkles in the air and his mitten covered hands rub haphazardly at his face. He takes short, warbling breaths. Bradley has learned by now that means a big cry is coming.
“Shh, shh, shh— I know, I know — Daddy should make it cool down faster, I’m working on it.” He whispers, rocking side to side and gently bouncing the infant against his arm.
You talk to him all the time and he seems to just quieten up and listen.
“Your mom’s got it all figured out, huh?” Bradley will never get over how soft Thomas’ cheeks are. Round and plush, so delicate. He trails his thumb in soft circles over the apples of his cheeks, watching the way his infant son matches him with a seemingly pleased wriggle.
“I’m getting there.” It’s like Bradley’s telling both of them, really. He nods his head and picks up the bottle again. That’ll do.
They settle onto the couch and Bradley nestles him into the crook of his elbow, holding the bottle up high so the air doesn’t get in, blinking tiredly at ESPN’s coverage of a baseball game from a week ago. Glancing down, he finds that Thomas’ eyes aren’t on the light fixture above them. It’s not switched on. He’s looking right, staring at the blue and white glow of the television.
The book on the coffee table says he can only see a couple of inches from his own face still, more than last week but not as much as he’ll be able to see next week. He just likes the lights, Bradley guesses.
Still, he kicks his feet up onto the table and smiles a bit.
“We’ll watch tonnes of these together,” Bradley tells him, over the sounds of Thomas gulping hungrily at the bottle. “I’m sorry that the first game you’re seeing is an Astros game. They suck. But, don’t tell your Uncle that I said that.”
He stares at the screen. “You don’t have to be into baseball. It’d be cool if you’d watch a game with me every now and again, but I won’t hold you to it. We could be into… swimming, or something — I don’t know, it’s 3am, I can’t think of other sports right now.”
When he looks down this time, Thomas is looking up at his face. His eyes are heavy and kind of crossed, apparently that’s normal when they’re drinking.
“Yeah,” Bradley whispers, stroking at the baby’s forearm with his thumb as his other hand holds the bottle steady. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll have something in common, right? — We’ll figure it out.”
His face softens, breathing out a soft and amused noise as Thomas’ eyes roll back and his hands stretch up towards his head.
“That’s good, huh?” He smiles.
He drinks about four ounces each time now. Then, Bradley sits him up — he has grown awfully familiar with the importance of a muslin during this step — and pats his back softly for a couple of minutes. This part is especially hard because Thomas almost always tries to fall asleep immediately after eating.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he’s wide awake and still kicking away on his play mat at 4:30am. Bradley’s sitting at his side, propped up against the couch and now somehow watching a documentary on the mesozoic era.
He yawns, combing a hair through his wild curls and stretching his legs out in front of him. As the narrator stops to take a breath, Bradley hears your bedroom door click open.
You pad along the hallway and round the corner into the living room. He looks barely awake, blinking at you.
“What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” You answer him, crossing the living room and stepping over his legs. He loops his arms around your middle as you straddle his waist and rest your head against his shoulder. “The bed was cold. You didn’t come back.”
“Yeah, sorry, babe, we were just having too much fun out here without you.” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes for a moment. His eyes sting behind his eyelids and your warmth against him is threatening to send him back to sleep.
You hum amusedly, kissing softly at his shoulder. You reach just past him and hold Thomas’ onesie covered foot, your mouth stretching upward into a grin. “Did Daddy get you too excited to go back to sleep, huh? — You two have no respect for bedtime, you know that?”
Bradley chuckles, pulling back and turning his head to watch the two of you.
“I have respect for bedtime, I was in bed on time. Our kid is a bad influence on me.”
“Yeah? Did daddy let you stay up and watch dinosaurs?” You grin, tickling your fingers lightly across the embroidered teddy bear that covers his stomach. Bradley turns his face into your neck, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment. Quickly, they shoot back open as you let out a gasp.
“He’s smiling!” You push out of Bradley’s lap and kneel closer to the little activity mat. “Was that funny? Are you smiling at me?”
Bradley pushes up onto his knees and leans closer to get a look, and sure enough, his lips are twitched just a bit at the corners and as Bradley leans in, his mouth opens real wide. It looks like a real grin.
Not just the kind of smile he usually does before he pukes either. This one looks more real. Like he really did find you funny. Bradley’s lips twitch. He kisses your shoulder softly, his hand resting against your waist as you kiss Thomas’ cheek.
His cheeks dimple, his grin stretching as he makes a gargling coo sound, kicking his legs eagerly.
“That’s so a real smile! He’s happy!” You gasp, beaming as your head whips around to look at Bradley.
His thumb dips under your sleep shirt, stroking over the inch wide space above your shorts. He inhales deeply, then exhales, smiling back at you.
“Of course he’s happy.” Bradley says quietly. He watches you lean over and kiss Thomas’s stomach, then his face, then all over his mitten-covered hands. Then, you turn back and set yourself in Bradley’s lap again, your hands resting against his shoulders.
“We’re doing a good job, right?” You ask him.
“Feels like it.” He tells you quietly. You nod your head back at him. For a moment, the two of you just stare back at each other.
Just your eyes locked on his, the glow of the television behind you and the faint consistency of the dinosaur spiel and Thomas’ cooing. He’s really looking at you. His thumbs circle your hips and it feels like he’s just reading you like a book — like he has learned how to understand the position of your lips and the shape of your eyes and the depth of your breaths.
His big brown eyes, always looking at you with such a softness these days. Such a recognition.
It’s a really strange feeling, because when you look down at this little thing that you love so much — you see parts of him all over, and you know it’s the same for Bradley. To look back at him now and find those things, it’s like seeing them for the first time all over again.
You lean in close and kiss the bridge of his nose, then rest your forehead against his.
“You’re happy too?” Bradley asks, his thumbs stroking softly at your hips. You nod your head against his and hum a sound of agreement.
“Yeah. Are you?”
Bradley lifts his head a bit and lets his mouth cover yours. Warm and firm. An answer of sorts. Still, he nods anyway.
“Yeah.”
And then his mouth is on yours again, softer this time but faster. His kiss pushes a breath out of your nose, your hands linking behind his shoulders as you pull yourself closer.
Those dinosaurs and that droning voice fade into a blur and it’s just Bradley. He melts into you, groaning at the feeling of your fingers in his curls. Kissing, pulling, panting, lost in the sensation of your lips coming together. His hand comes up to cup the side of your jaw, guiding your mouth against his as his tongue caresses yours.
The hand that isn’t on your cheek skims briefly along your back, then grabs firmly at your hip. He drags you closer, the proximity making you shiver.
His eagerness thrums between you like energy, pulling you closer together, deepening your kisses until your head is spinning and you’re half sure that you’re soaking through the thin fabric of underwear that separates you.
For a second, you remember how you wound up here. Falling just as easily into Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, letting yourself get so captivated by his kisses. He feels you smile against his lips, and is the first to pull back.
His fingers dig softly into your hips.
“Are you thinking about the baseball?” He whispers, kissing you again. You grin against him, breaking into a soft giggle as you nod. The signed baseball bet, where you had offered to blow him. That thing is in a box now. He hums, “That was a really good blowjob.”
You frown and shove at his shoulders, “Don’t say that in front of—“
At once, you turn to check and find your son to be asleep on his back. All of that wriggling and kicking tired him out, one of his mitten covered hands resting against his cheek.
“Huh. He put himself to sleep.” Bradley comments, he looks back to you and finds your lips quirked. His brows start to knit together, wondering what you’re finding to smirk about at four-thirty in the morning.
Then, you lean in close and kiss his cheek softly, your lips grazing his ear. “Go put him in his bassinet.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Setting you on the ground beside him, he scoops up the baby and cradles him to his chest. You watch him kiss the top of Thomas’ head before they disappear down the hall together. He returns with a grin on his face.
”Yeah, yeah, take your pants off.” You tease him, pushing up onto your knees as he struts across the room with that cocky little smile on his face. He drops down onto the couch and sighs wistfully.
”Whoa — I’m not that kind of guy, you’ve gotta buy me dinner first.” He jokes back to you, leaning down and kissing your mouth softly. Your palm dips into the leg of his shorts, fingers wrapping loosely around his hardening cock. He chuckles breathily against your lips. “You’re right, I am that kind of guy.”
This makes you giggle, quietly of course, you’re mastering the art of not waking up Thomas by this point. Bradley sits back as your mouth presses softly to his chest. He watches silently as you kiss your way down his body, lifting his hips for you to tug his shorts down.
Then, finally, your lips are wrapped around him. His hand flinches, halfway between curling itself into your hair and staying put against the fabric of the couch. Your gaze flickers up to him, heavy with more than just the weight of the late night, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock.
You lace your fingers through his, squeeze his hand and guide it to the back of your own head. Bradley breathes out shakily. “Fuck, I love you.”
He does love you. He shows you every single day.
After sex, Bradley used to be the first to walk away. If he was in his own bed, he would be up at the crack of dawn to indicate that there was no intention of this being a long term thing. If he was in someone else’s he would be gone even sooner.
Tonight, when you’re grinning up at him as he tries to catch his breath, the first thing that crosses his mind is your bed. His and yours. Where he has held you every night for the past few months, where your son sleeps a few feet away.
Pulling his shorts up around his hips, Bradley leans forwards and pulls you to your feet, then hooks his hands under your thighs. You bury your gasp into the curve of his neck as he lifts you against him, guiding your legs around his waist.
”C’mon, let’s go to bed.”
He offered to reciprocate the favour. It’s getting difficult to say no, watching him stroll around the house in a pair of shorts, holding your baby in his arms. Even worse since he went back to work and the flight suit made its reappearance.
You’re only a week from getting the all-clear, and really, you’re half sure that six days wouldn’t make that much of a difference in your recovery journey. But that’s the old you thinking. Now that you’ve got a kid, you should be doing things more by the book.
So, six more days until you can let Maverick take the baby for a nice long walk, and have wild, protected sex, with Bradley. His arms wrap securely around your middle. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and kisses lazily at your skin, and promptly falls asleep.
It takes you a little longer, you weren’t up for as long as he was, but you know that you have to work fast while the two boys are asleep. Eyes closed, Bradley’s heartbeat is steady against your back and his snoring is muffled by your shoulder. If you listen out, you can hear Thomas’ deep little breaths from within his bassinet.
Slow, deep breaths in. Bradley’s weight pressing into your back. Long, calm breaths out. The dinosaurs on the television and the smile on Thomas’ face. The freckles on Bradley’s chest, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your middle.
You’re up before him the next morning. Tommy has little respect for the Saturday morning lazies, it would seem. You let Bradley sleep in for a bit, giving the baby his bottle and getting in a solid twenty minute tummy-time session before it dawns on you that the two of you had invited Maverick over.
“Come on in, Mav — Bradley’s sleeping.” You call to the door. Bradley still gets a little antsy when his uncle comes around, but he doesn’t mind so much as long as the conversation stays on Tommy.
Maverick has been over a couple of times since he was born and it’s like the two of them have some kind of unspoken connection. Pete’s old and childless, and kind of a bachelor, but something about him calms Tommy down every single time.
His spare key clicks in the lock and the door opens compliantly. After the last emergency, you figured it would be good for him to have one. At least for as long as he will be in Pensacola with you.
Dressed in his uniform of a white t-shirt and vintage jeans, Maverick walks towards you shaking his head. He isn’t fazed by the fact that you’re in your pyjamas. Carole stayed in hers until Bradley was almost eight months.
He exhales as he sits beside you. “I can’t believe how big he’s getting.”
“I know, right? — It’s going by so quickly.” You hum, grinning at the baby in an attempt to replicate last night’s moment of pure bliss. Maverick’s blue eyes flicker between the two of you, and he finds himself smiling too. “Here, make yourself useful, Gramps. I’ll get Bradley.”
He complies as easily as the door had, taking the baby as you pass him over, but his face falls. Gramps. That’s not his title, he hasn’t earned it. Looking down at the squirming little boy in his arms — god, he hopes he earns it.
You push up onto the edge of your bed, take two steps, and drop down on top of Bradley, waking him with a groan.
“Morning.” You grin at him as he frowns grumpily at you, blinking through the morning light. He reaches out blindly and cups the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You giggle as he kisses at your forehead, then puckers his lips expectantly for you to kiss his mouth.
You peck his lips softly.
He sighs softly. ”What time is it?”
You smooth your hands along his bare chest and tap at his navel. ”Eleven. Mav’s here, put some clothes on and entertain so that I can shower?”
“Uh-huh. Five more minutes.” He mumbles, turning his face into the pillow, almost knocking you off of him as he tries to roll onto his side. You shove at his shoulders and he groans again, more dramatically this time. “Fine, I’m up.”
You seem to have struck a decent balance. Maverick has stopped by every weekend since you got back from the hospital, more now that Bradley is back at work. He seems to have a little more freedom in the Navy than Bradley does, but Bradley says that’s not how it’s supposed to be.
Doesn’t matter to you either way, it gives you time on a Saturday morning to have a twenty minute shower, get dressed and still find time to put some makeup on afterwards. Even if Bradley does appear in the reflection behind you after exactly thirty-two minutes of independence.
“What’s that look on your face?” You wonder aloud, coating mascara through your lashes in the mirror. He presses his chest into you, snaking a hand around to your front and resting it against your stomach.
“Just… getting used to him not being in there anymore.”
“Tell me about it, I keep getting surprised when I see my toes.” You scoff in response, setting the applicator into the tube and twisting it shut, dropping it back into your makeup bag. Bradley leans forwards and kisses the side of your neck softly.
Then again. Then, he turns his head and looks at you through the mirror with a smile on his face.
“I can fix that, if it’s an issue for you.” You already know that he’s joking but the sentiment of being pregnant again so soon makes you screw your face up and push him off of you anyway.
“Five weeks postpartum and you’re already begging to knock me up again,” You hum, playing him right back at his own game as you pull a blush from the bag. “And to think, last time you just took it for granted.”
His palm smoothes over your stomach, using the leverage to drag you backwards into his chest. He turns his face and kisses your cheek tenderly.
“I’ll make it up to you next time.”
“Bradley, I love you,” You tell him carefully, squinting at him through the mirror, “but if you keep threatening to get me pregnant, I might have to take a vow of celibacy.”
He snorts. Threatening. His mouth stretches into a grin as his thumb trails across your navel, ending the conversation with a sweet shrug of his broad shoulders. Maybe there’s more to say on the topic, but you won’t know.
The sound of your phone ringing cuts between the two of you. Simultaneously, your eyes go wide. It’s going to make Thomas scream. That kid hates high-pitched noises, the two of you have been living with your phones on silent for weeks. You must have accidentally turned it off, either way, it’s loud and it’s shrill now — and Mav panics when Tommy starts screaming. Bradley leaves you with a quick squeeze of your hip, darting from the bathroom before you have even opened your mouth.
You hear him answer the phone with a quiet ‘hello?’ from the other room.
You slot the blush back into your makeup bag and dig around between plastic tubes and packages. Stupidly looking for whatever comes next in your routine, preparing yourself to do something minuscule like take a trip to the grocery store.
All too soon, Bradley appears in the mirror once again. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his face suddenly sullen, his eyes on you.
“Yeah. No, I get it. Call us back when you know.” He says quietly. The line clicks dead against his ear and he swallows thickly. Your smile falls as you turn to face him.
”What is it?”
Bradley lets his hand fall down to his side, pausing in thought for just a moment. He presses his lips together and gives a small, weak shake of his head.
”It’s your dad.”
Taglist: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend @nerdgirljen @marvelouslyme96
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster x you#top gun smut#Bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley Bradshaw x you
339 notes
·
View notes
Text
unconditionally — jung hoseok (teaser)
summary: for the past three, almost four years, it has only been you and your twins after having been abandoned by your ex-boyfriend. you expected it to remain that way for the rest of your lives until one day you accidentally run into one of his bandmates at the park
pairings: ex-boyfriend/baby daddy!hoseok x f. reader
genre: exes to lovers
warnings: none
word count: 711
taglist: lmk if you want to be added!
author's note: say hello to my first solo member fic! our beloved hoseok will be the first one to have his own fic and this will be between 3-5 chapters. i'm not sure when this fic will be uploaded but i'm currently working on the first chapter. there will be lots of angst and many of you will be angry at hobi so grab your tissues and mentally prepare yourself for a nasty relationship between oc and hobi :)
masterlist
"Y/N?" His voice was small, reminding you of Jaehee when you scolded her for doing something she wasn't supposed to.
"Hi, Jungkook."
Your voice was merely a whisper, fearing you would burst into tears if you spoke louder. You forced yourself to push down the lump that formed in your throat since you knew that you couldn't afford to break into tears with the twins in front of you. Maybe if you were alone, you would allow yourself to shed a few tears but you couldn't right now.
"Is that really you, noona?" Jungkook asked.
That damn honorific; you always found it weird being addressed as noona by other guys but it was endearing when it came from Jungkook and hearing him call you noona made you wonder if he still saw you the same way he did when he was friends.
"It really is me." You laughed, tears burning your eyes as you watched Jungkook's eyes flash with all kinds of emotions.
He crouched down in front of you, reaching his hand out to wipe the tear that fell down your face. You flinched, jerking your head away from him before he could touch you, wiping away the tear yourself. Your stomach twisted as his face dropped in hurt, gulping when he bit down on his lip and quickly retracted his hand.
"Where have you been, noona?" Jungkook asked.
"I've always been here, Kook. I just made sure to stay out of your way." You responded, uncaring how harsh the truth was.
He glanced over at the twins, who were still occupied with Bam. The Doberman had taken it upon himself to curl up on the picnic blanket, content with the way Jaehee and Jaeyoung were petting him. Jungkook smiled at the sight for a split second before it dropped as quickly as it appeared.
"Is it because of—"
"Yup."
A heavy silence fell between the two of you. You didn't want to be so rude to Jungkook after seeing him for the first time in four years but you couldn't help but be angry that he was acting as if he didn't dump you on the side of the road after your breakup with Hoseok. He had been one of the people who accused you of cheating and his mere presence was close to sending you into a fit of tears.
"Does hyung know?" Jungkook's tone was cautionary, almost as if he was afraid to ask you.
"No. He blocked me after I sent the first ultrasound pictures that the doctor gave me. He doesn't even know that I have twins." You replied blankly.
Jungkook never experienced being stabbed by someone but with your blunt words and harsh tone, he felt as if you had attempted to stab him countless times. He always knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't expect you to be kind in the instance that he saw you again but talking to you in real-time made it hurt all the more. And he knew that he had no right to be hurt when he contributed to all of the pain you felt over the last four years since the breakup.
"Oh."
You got up onto your knees and began packing the picnic basket. Jungkook watched helplessly as you quickly placed your containers and bottles in the basket, almost as if you were rushing to get away from him. "Time to go home, say bye-bye to Bam."
Jaehee waved at Bam as you picked her up in one arm, holding the basket with the same hand. You grabbed Jaeyoung's hand, grateful that neither of the twins was putting up a fight, and instead found interest in the dandelions that had turned white.
"Y/N—"
"I have to go home, the twins need to take a nap before it's too late in the afternoon. It was nice seeing you again, Jungkook."
Without another word, you headed towards the parking lot beside the car, leaving Jungkook with no choice but to watch you disappear again. He swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to tear his eyes away even after you placed the twins in their car seats and drove out of the parking lot.
"It was nice seeing you too, noona."
#jung hoseok#jhope#j hope#bts jhope#jhope fic#hoseok fic#hoseok x reader#hoseok angst#hoseok fluff#bts fic#unconditionally#unconditionally teaser
467 notes
·
View notes
Note
lust for life💋: omggg i’m kind of so excited for this soooo i’m thinking bestfriend!rafe and reader with these prompts:
“say, what’s that on your mind? is it me” (40)
“kiss me” (16)
“where do you want me, darling?” (25)
lastly, “does doing these kinds of things make us friends with benefits?”
congratulations on the 1k baby i’m so proud of youuu! you are such an amazing writer, i’m literally so speechless each and everytime I see your writing! <3
Kiss Me R.C
Babe I love this so much! And thank you🥺 you were one of the first people to consistently pop into my notifs and be so supportive of everything I write so thank you for that, genuinely one of the kindest people i’ve met🫶🏻😚 I adore you (also kind of changing up the wording on one of these prompts just to make it fit a bit better)
Having feelings for someone who you know doesn’t feel the same is hard enough. You have to watch them flirt with other people, watch them go on dates, live their love life with someone who’s not you. When that person is your best friend who you’ve known since childhood, one who you see all the time? It makes it way harder to deal with, he tells you the details of every date, how pretty this girl is, how he really can see a future with her, and you have to put on a supportive front and give him the best advice you can while your heart breaks. That’s exactly what’s happening with you and Rafe, you’ve been in love with him since you were younger.
He started talking to a new girl and had told you all about her, how she made him happy and they had been on a few dates. They planned for more, he really thought they could take this to the next level and start dating. You distance yourself from that point, choosing to find comfort in liquor bottles and rolled up joins. The parties you once hated going to become your new best friend over the next few weeks, Rafe was confused as to why his best friend since childhood seemingly wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Topper and Kelce tell him they’ve seen you at the parties a lot more, drinking more than you can handle and going home with whatever guy you find, and he knows something is wrong. He decides he’s going to confront you when he sees you post on your story, drunk and high off your ass while some guy grabs all over you.
You’re sitting on your couch trying to get over the terrible hangover you had. You took some medicine about an hour ago and it was finally starting to kick in, and then you hear a knock on the door. Your face scrunches in confusion because nobody was supposed to be here, but you get up and walk to the door anyway. Your heart sinks when you see it’s Rafe standing at the door and hesitantly open it.
“Can we talk?” he asks, desperation evident in his voice.
You think for a minute, knowing you need to talk to him and get it out of the way regardless of the outcome. You open your door wider and let him in, closing the door and going to sit on the couch next to him.
“What’s going on with you huh? One minute we’re best friends and the next you’re leaving me high and dry, I have to find out from Top and Kelce that you’re at all these parties getting high and drunk off your ass. You’re hooking up with all these guys and posting about it while ignoring my texts” he’s angry and that makes you angry. He’s allowed to hookup with whoever but you’re not?
“What do you care? You have what’s her fucking name, the new bitch you’re talking to. What does it matter if i’m hooking up with guys? Don’t worry about me.” you glare at him with storms in your eyes, nostrils flaring as your chest rises rapidly.
“I’m always going to worry about you! You’re my best friend a-“
“Stop, stop fucking calling me that. Please just leave” you cut him off, tears threatening to spill. He’s not meaning to, you know that, but he’s crushing your heart with each word.
“Y/N…please. Say what’s on your mind, is it me?” he has a feeling of what’s wrong. If it’s anything like he thinks then he understands. All these girls he’s with are to try and replace you, the girl he’s wanted since he first met you. He thinks there’s no way you’ll want to be with him because you’re just friends, so he keeps quiet and fills the void with girls that will never come close to you.
“I-” now or never, you take a deep breath in “I like you okay? And not just in a best friend way, I want you to talk about me the way you talk about these girls you date. I want you to feel the way about me that I feel about you. I want you to want me the same way I want you. But I know that won’t happen and it’s okay Rafe really, I g-“
“Kiss me” he pleads, eyes staring into yours full of desperation.
“What? What about that girl” you’re confused, clearly you heard him wrong.
“She’s gone, has been for weeks. Now. Kiss. Me” he places his hands on your face and grounds your thoughts.
You waste no time, crashing your lips into his. His hands move from your face to your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap. You mentally smack yourself when you realize you’re only wearing one of his t shirts and some panties, but fuck did it feel good. Instinctually, you begin grinding down agasint him, feeling his cock harden under you, and let out a small whimper. He pulls away to check if you’re okay and mutters out a small ‘fuck’ when he looks at you. Your lips are swollen, eyes black with lust and lids hooded as you whine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful baby” his hand moves to swipe at your cheek one, trailing it down your face and to your neck before gently squeezing.
“Rafe, I want you to fuck me” he almost doesn’t hear you, almost.
“Where do you want me darling?” he rests his forehead against yours, bringing his other hand the the other side of your neck to cradle it.
“My uh, you know” suddenly a wave of embarrassment flooded you. Scared you’d say the wrong thing and he’d leave realizing this was a mistake.
“Say it. Please say it” he was desperate, rolling his lips against your clothes cunt.
“In my pussy. Want you in my pussy” you whimper out, eyes fluttering closed at the friction on your clit.
You hear him mumble something before you’re suddenly being picked up and carried to your bedroom, your back softly colliding with your matters as he hovers over you. He kisses your lips gently, pulling away and just looking at you. Eyes full of lust and love as he moves to pull his top off, you give him the okay and he does the same to you, muttering about how perfect you were when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. His head dips down to kiss your tits, taking your nipple into his mouth and circling it with his tongue before doing the same to the other.
“Rafe, please just fuck me” you needed him right now, desperate for him to make you his in every way.
He pulled your panties down and removes his pants and boxers, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a condom. He opens the packet before pulling the condom out and rolling it onto his cock, discarding the packet into the floor and lining the tip of his cock up with your dripping hole.
“Are you sure you want this baby?” he wants to make sure before he does this, you nod your head and pull him into a kiss. He pushes into you, going slow to let you adjust to his size. You let out a cry and he stops to check on you.
“I’m okay, you’re just so big. Not u-used to it” you stutter out, nails digging into his biceps. He keeps pushing into you until his cock is fully inside you, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and letting out a loud groan.
“Feel so good around my cock, so fucking tight” he doesn’t make any efforts to move until you give him the go ahead.
“You can move now, make me yours” that seems to flip a switch inside of him, he begins thrusting into you at a pace that’s not quite gentle but also not rough. You cry out in pleasure as tears slip from the corners of your eyes, his hair hanging down and brushing against your face as he keeps himself hovered over you. His strong arms are on both sides of your head, nails gripping onto his back and leaving scratch marks as he slams into you all the way over and over again.
His lips are roaming every inch of your body that they can, small moans filling the room. You feel yourself getting close to climax and pull him into a kiss that turns out more sloppy than you planned. It’s full of passion, years of unsaid feelings finally coming to the surface.
“I-oh fuck- i’m close” you break the kiss, brows scrunched together and head falling back into the mattress as your mouth falls open. The pretty sounds you’re making bring him close to the edge as well, loud grunts and groans escaping his lips as his thrusts become rougher.
“I am too baby, fuck you’re gripping me so tight” the both of you coming undone at the same time, a string of moans and curse words echoing off the walls. Your body arched as his hips faltered in movement, his lips capturing yours as your orgasms washed over you.
When the both of you managed to come down from the rush, he pulls out of you and removes the condom, discarding it in your trash can. He walks to your bathroom and grabs a cloth, wiping you off before doing the same to himself and throwing the rag in your clothes hamper.
You feel the bed dip beside you and his arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his front. Neither of you say anything, just wanting to enjoy the moment.
“So….does doing these kinds of things make us friends with benefits?” you know from his tone that he has that stupid grin on his face that he always did when teasing you. You reach your hand back and smack his head with a small laugh.
“Oh shut up” you hear him mumble a small ‘ow, it was just a question jeez’ and smile to yourself, shaking your head.
“Okay okay, if it doesn’t make us friends with benefits…that must make us boyfriend and girlfriend yeah?” you turn around so you were facing him, he had a small smirk on his face and you had a small grin on yours. Your eyes meet his and he places his forehead against yours.
“I guess it does” his face breaks out in a large smile, pulling you into another kiss. His nose nudges against yours when he pulls away, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest. He finally got his girl, nothing would ever beat what he was feeling right now.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron outer banks#asks <3#1k celebration
279 notes
·
View notes
Note
*cackles evilly* Um, I mean- *coughs and smiles*
How about Mr. Bahng with (getting pinned against a wall) and ("God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.")? Because, you know, you were one of the culprits who sent me down delulu land for him? 😒🧃💕
AJ, my beloved, anything for you! I'm still not sorry about the Chan brainrot 😆 and I can't wait to dig into Spin You soon 💕
Title: Keep It Secret
Pairing: Chan x Gender Neutral Reader
Rating: M(18+)
Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers
Warnings: dirty texts, sneaking around, implied sex
(Apologies for any typos, ya girl is buzzed)
The thing about sneaking around behind your friends' backs is - you're supposed to keep it secret.
But as you sit at the restaurant table where your group of friends are toasting to Minho's promotion, you're starting to worry that the others are going to know that you and Chan have been fucking.
Mainly because you can't stop looking at the texts he's been sending all night:
Channie: You look so fucking good tonight
Channie: Did you wear that dress just for me?
You bite your lip, thumbs flying over the screen, hoping the others don't see you. Because if they catch you texting, they'll be all up in your business faster than lightning. Your friends are amazing, but they're also the nosiest fuckers you've ever met.
Which is why you and Chan haven't told them about the hookups. The nights spent in each other's beds. The afternoons on your couches, him as deep inside you as he can possibly get. They'd have too many questions, want to know about labels. Neither of you want to deal with that.
So you try to hide it.
You: Yeah, I did. You like?
Casually, you lean forward, reaching for the bottle of wine Felix graciously bought for the table. But really, you're just letting Chan get an eyeful of your cleavage as he covertly gazes at you from the other side of the table. His blond hair falls gently over his brow as he bows his head over his lap, where his phone must rest.
Channie: Fuck dessert
Channie: Gonna eat you up instead
His last text has you shifting in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. Jeongin, sitting next to you, notices.
"You okay there?" he asks, tilting his head with curiosity.
"I'm fine! Just… been a long week. Ready to get out of here and hit the dance floor." That's the plan for the evening - dinner, drinks, and dancing. But you're hoping to find time to fit something else in.
(Or rather, someone.)
The waiter comes around with everyone's desserts. You scoop up a spoonful of Makgeolli ice cream. Everyone's attention is on Minho as he tells a story. Everyone, that is, except Chan, who watches with naked interest as you close your lips around the cold treat, eyes fluttering shut as the sinful sweetness hits your tongue.
The spoon comes out clean, but a drop dribbles down your bottom lip. When you open your eyes, you stare directly at Chan as you lick the errant drop away. Delicious.
Not even a half second later, your phone buzzes in your hand.
Channie: God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now
You can't wait a second longer. Rising, you smooth down your skirt, letting your fingers brush over your thighs, knowing he's looking.
"I'm just going to use the rest room."
It's probably not the smartest idea, with all of your friends here, to do this now. But two minutes later, when there's a knock and another text -
Channie: Let me in, baby
and as soon as you open the door, he pins you to the wall, you realize that even if they figure it out -
It's worth it.
Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜
© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.
#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan smut#stray kids imagines#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#bang chan fanfic#asks#lovely moots#bangtanintotheroom
362 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I request Where Thor and reader are trying for a baby and nothing works except for one day they get lucky but then he goes on to Asgard before reader has a chance to tell him and he looses trials of time in Asgard so when he comes back he thinks reader cheated so angst but then it’s just fluffy and cute.
Sorry if this is long! just really love how you write thor! Especially chubby Thor!
Rain Rain Go Away
Thor x plus size reader
Trying and failing over and over can take its toll on anyone’s mind but a sudden success after so long can make them fracture.
Warnings: struggles to conceive, self-hatred, presumed infidelity, arguments, infertility, angst, pregnancy, endgame compliant (old man Steve), birth/labour, happy/hopeful ending
WC: 5k
Minors DNI
There is a point when trying for a baby where it doesn’t become fun anymore. It becomes scheduled, scientific. There are calendars and pills, alarms and appointments. It was clinical and heartbreaking.
Since the beginning of your time with the Avenger, you both knew you wanted kids, a whole load of them. But you stayed on birth control, knowing that getting pregnant too soon could destroy your budding relationship.
And as your first wedding anniversary came around, your gift to your godly husband was a cut on your inner arm where your implant had been. You spent a week in bed together, determined to fall pregnant on the first try.
But it was now over a year later and all you had to show for it was several broken headboards and a dozen negative pregnancy tests. It weighed heavily on you both but you more so.
Thor was a god of not only thunder but fertility. He was meant to have children, an army of them, so it had to be you that was holding him back. He constantly reassured you that these things took time and that patience was essential, yet you could tell he was thinking the same thing too.
Sighing, you dropped the ovulation test in the bin. You were supposed to be at the peak of your cycle today but the single blue line on the plastic told you otherwise. You could hear your husband working out in the home gym below you. He was working out more often nowadays, trying to get out all of his frustration in a somewhat practical way.
You washed your hands slowly, delaying your exit from the bathroom. It was getting harder to face your husband each day, to see that disappointment in those blue eyes as we woke up. Occasionally, he would reach for your soft stomach as if he would be able to cup it like you were pregnant but catch himself before he could touch you.
It ripped your heart apart every time.
Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself and left the small bathroom. The kitchen, thankfully, was empty so you were able to quietly slip to the fridge and pull out one of the nasty premade smoothies that Laura suggested.
You downed half of it and cringed at the taste. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a placebo. It was raining today, how fitting. “My love?” For being a man closer to 7’ than the average human, he certainly moved quietly.
“Jesus Christ!” You jumped, almost dropping the bottle of vile green liquid. “Don’t scare me like that.” But he just chuckled, brushing off your words. His solid arms wrapped firmly around your wide waist and tugged you into him so he could rest his chin on the top of your head.
“I am sorry my queen, I thought you heard me come in.” You melted into his hold like you always did. Thor had magical hugs, even in the most dire of circumstances where you couldn’t see the light at the end, he brought his own. He guided you back in the beat of his heart and the warmth of his chest. These embraces were becoming all too frequent now, a constant routine before bed or after you got up.
“Is ok.” You slurred, letting the heat of him lull you into a fuzzy headspace. A huge hand came up and cupped the back of your head so your nose pressed into his collarbone. The other slid down to your lower back, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your warm skin.
“How are you feeling today? What do you need from me?” Even in the midst of the worst fights you’ve had, Thor always made sure that you were ok, both physically and mentally.
Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him down for a soft peck to his lips. “Just you my love, I just need you.” With no effort, you were hauled up and thrown over his shoulder.
“Then you shall have me!” And he ran to your shared bedroom as you laughed.
——————
The sun was trying to break from the horizon when he awoke. The message had been short ‘come quickly, we need help’. And as much as he hated it, he had to leave you. You were still fast asleep, dreaming peacefully within the cotton sheets.
He laid a quick kiss to your temple and tucked a note onto the bedside table. Thor gazed down at you sadly, his fingers skimming your lower stomach before he forced himself to pull away, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he would not leave.
By the time you awoke, far more tired than you usually were, the sun was at its highest point in the sky and Thor was gone.
You hauled yourself from bed, only briefly glancing at the note he had left as you sluggishly moved to the bathroom. ‘I have to be getting sick’ you thought, that was the only explanation for how utterly exhausted you felt.
A hot shower woke you up a bit but not much. As you dried yourself off, you froze. Your breasts felt firm, and very sensitive. No, it can’t be.
With shaking hands, you opened up your phone’s calendar and nearly dropped the device in shock. Your period was almost two months late. No, don’t get your hopes up, you told yourself. Take a test, then go from there.
Admittedly, it was the messiest test you ever took considering how your entire body trembled with nerves. Deja vu washed over you as you washed your hands, the test face down on the counter beside you. Hope and despair curled in your gut, twisting around each other like snakes. Your heart wanted hope to win but your brain knew that like so many times before despair would devour the other.
Your timer was set, three minutes.
2 minutes 45 seconds It was going to be negative, just like the many times before. You were probably coming down with a flu and your cycle was off because you’re so stressed about getting pregnant.
2 minutes 24 seconds But what if it was positive? No no, it isn’t.
2 minutes Dear god it’s positive.
1 minute 30 seconds You can’t be pregnant now, Thor literally just zapped off to Asgard for god knows how long.
1 minute 4 seconds It has to be negative, why is this time any different than the other 12 times?
56 seconds But what if?
39 seconds Could it have actually worked this time?
12 seconds Why can’t time move any faster!
6 seconds Please please just let it be positive
3 seconds It’s negative, you just know it
1 second Take a deep breath, it’ll do you no good if you pass out before you can read the test
Your ears were ringing so loud you didn’t hear the alarm go off but you flipped the test anyway. Your heart stopped.
Pregnant. And Thor was gone.
——————
The months seemed to crawl on but go by quickly at the same time. You documented everything you could, from ultrasound pictures to the size of your belly each week. The commemorative photo album Sam and Bucky had given you was already filled to the brim along with a shoe box you had found in the back of your closet.
Every morning you awoke, expecting to find your husband beside you, his blue eyes wide with surprise as he watched your growing belly, maybe even crying as your little one gave a powerful kick to his palm. But every morning, without fail, you woke up alone.
You could only hope that he was somewhere safe, that he would come home to you in one piece, hopefully in time for the birth which was fast approaching.
“Come on, time to get up.” You muttered to your stomach, laying a hand over the top and getting a soft punch from your little thunder as you had taken to calling them. With a great heave, you lifted yourself from the bed.
Your stance was wide in order to accommodate the heft of your stomach. They rolled underneath your palm, obviously unhappy with the sudden movement. “Yeah I know but I can’t stay in bed all day.” Slowly, you made your way out of the bedroom, your gate becoming more of a waddle the longer you were on your feet.
Stupidly, the kitchen was a floor below your bedroom and you stubbornly remained in the master suite for the comfort of Thor’s fading scent. A tinkling of bells broke your concentration.
That was the door chime. Your head whipped to the front door, expecting Bucky to be walking through for his weekly checkup but instead, it was your very tired looking husband. His broad shoulders were slouched, his back hunched over like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
The usually bright silver of his armour was dull, his red cape slashed and coated with what you hoped was mud but was probably blood. His eyes were fixed on the ground as he toed off his boots, still mindful of your rule about dirty shoes on your nice floors. “Thor?” Your voice came out as more of a gasp.
A smile came over his face and he looked up at you, blue eyes meeting yours before they dropped to your very pregnant belly. His face dropped. “Whose is it?” He snarled, tone full of anger and hatred and a hint of disgust.
“W-what are you talking about? This is our baby.” Your arms cradled your bump protectively, and for the first time in your life, you were scared of your husband.
Thor’s shoulders rolled back like he was getting ready for a fight. “No. That thing in your belly cannot be my child. So tell me whose it is.” Your sadness and fear suddenly burned away to a white hot rage.
“How dare you.” You hissed venomously. “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back until you come to your fucking senses.” His frown deepened but he made no move to leave, in fact he planted his feet.
“Whose is it?”
“Leave.” Your hand slipped to the hidden compartment on the wall, fully intending to hit the panic button on the side of it. The threat of you trying to call for help, that you were truly terrified of the man who was supposed to be protecting you, seemed to break him from his trance.
“Fine but I walk out that door and you never see me again.”
“Go please.” Tears lined your vision as the heartbreak began to set in. “Go.” Your voice was a mere whisper now, weak and soft. But he listened. With an almost dramatic spin, he left your home, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as the house was quiet again, you crumpled, just barely catching yourself on the stairs before spiraling into a fit of sobs.
——————
The battle had been long and fatal. So many had died on the fields before him. He felt like his skin was constantly coated in dried blood, the iron smell invading his senses during every waking moment. But more than that, Thor felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.
He had left you behind in the most trying time of your relationship, a time when you needed all of his support and love. He knew you were struggling more than you let on, consumed by such a hatred for your body. He watched you slowly fall into yourself, your mind falling into a dark place that he couldn’t always bring you back from.
He had been gone for almost a year by his count, trapped on a distant planet surrounded by those who wished to kill him. He dreamt of you every night. Maybe the distance could reignite that passion you had at the beginning.
When Brunhilde told him that the war was over and that he could go home, Thor wasted no time. He abandoned his comrades immediately using Stormbreaker to bring him home.
Relief washed over him like a wave when he stepped back over the familiar threshold. His heart pounded with excitement as he removed his shoes but then he saw you and he shattered. There was no doubt you were pregnant.
He could sense it in his bones. But it could not have been his child in your womb, it had been too long since he had been gone.
Rage infected his mind like a plague, destroying his rational mind which screamed at him that you would never betray him like that. His veins came to light with lightning as if he was about to go back into battle.
He watched fear grow in the eyes he adored so much but he could not stop the words from escaping his mouth.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you with some man, tangled together in the heat of passion. Insecurity had been building like a wave within the god since the first negative test. He knew you were fertile, fuck he could smell it from across the house. But month after month, he failed.
Maybe a god was never supposed to have children with a human but he couldn’t give up, not when he loved you so much. You were the only person he could ever see having kids with so it broke him to come home and see you so perfectly, beautifully pregnant by another man.
So he ran, as far as he could.
It didn’t surprise him that he found himself on Captain America’s doorstep. They had been kindred souls in their prime, two men with intertwined destinies. The door opened before he could knock. “Come on in, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Steve was much smaller but Thor supposed that came with aging.
The house was quant, much like yours but the furniture and decorations were dated. Steve led him further into the domicile, directing him towards the kitchen. Thor mindlessly took a seat at the small breakfast nook, forcing his large body into one of the small stools.
Steve was quiet at first, simply going through the motions of making a pot of coffee for them both, letting him stew in his thoughts. Maybe he deserved it, after all so much of your relationship had been spent apart. He had left you alone for months at a time, it was only natural that you would find comfort in someone else.
“So, what happened?” He asked in a way like he already knew the answer.
“Y/N’s pregnant.” He stated factually.
Steve nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I heard, congratulations by the way.” Thor scowled at the younger man as his grip tightened on the mug, threatening to shatter the porcelain.
“How can you say that to me, that child isn’t mine.” Steve’s blue eyes narrowed harshly, both accentuating the wrinkles on his face and making him look decades younger. The silence spoke louder than any of his words ever could.
The anger, disappointment and genuine sadness in his eyes made the god look away. “I was gone for a year and when I returned, she was with child! What else was I meant to think, that somehow she became impregnated magically?” Steve’s grading eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Thor, you’ve only been gone six, maybe seven months.” The room became icy all of a sudden.
“What.”
“That baby is yours and you just abandoned the mother of your child.” The wooden legs of his chair screamed against the laminate flooring as Thor suddenly stood.
“No, no. I was gone for a year.” He insisted but his voice wavered, his confidence fading and the reality of what he had just done finally settling in. Steve’s gaze flicked to the wall behind Thor, his aged eyes focusing on something hanging there. Thor spun and his blood turned to ice.
It was the end of March. He had left at the beginning of September, the wind still carrying the warmth of summer but with the bitter bite of winter. Leaves still clung to the trees, their edges only barely fraying with oranges and reds. “It’s not possible.” He whispered as if trying to convince himself rather than the other man.
“We have lost time before, why is it so impossible to believe that it has happened again.” Steve said with a soft tone. Thor shook his head.
“What have I done?” Steve’s withered came to rest on his broad shoulder in a comforting touch.
“Hopefully nothing that can’t be undone.”
——————
The house was silent and dark, the warmth seemingly sucked out. A cool breeze blew through an open window in the dining room. “My love?” Like he had done hundreds of times before, Thor placed one foot in front of the other, avoiding the perpetually creaky floorboards.
Silence answered him.
Fear gripped his heart tightly, a fist slowly closing around it, making his chest ache. “Y/N.” He was more firm now, needing to hear your voice even if it was just to scream at him and curse his name. He began to climb the stairs, his hand curling around the bannister, his knuckles turning pale with the force.
His foot slipped on something wet. Looking down, he expected the dark stain of blood on the hardwood but the liquid was clear, mucus-like. It smelt of birth.
——————
Sobs wracked your body almost painfully as you quickly fell into hysterics. Your hand clutched at the wall, barely holding on. You held our belly with your other hand, your little thunder spinning wildly beneath your palm. “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You chanted, admittedly more to yourself than your child.
Your vision started to swim as you struggled to fill your already compressed lungs through your gasping breaths. But you weren’t calming down, in fact, your stomach had begun to cramp and lightning shot up your back.
“Oh fuck.” A sudden gush of liquid from between your legs solidified your theory. “This is the best time to go into labour.” You snarled. On shaky legs, you rose back to your feet, overly mindful of still being on the stairs. Quickly, you pressed the small panic button which would send an alert to both Bucky and Sam.
“Now you just stay in there for a while, you hear?” But you knew it was useless to try and convince them so slowly, carefully, you waddled down the rest of the stairs, admittedly taking a few minutes to catch your breath on each step.
Your chest ached painfully at the thought you had to do this alone, without your husband. But the look of absolute disgust on his face turned your heart to stone. With added determination, you reached your target, Thor’s armchair.
The plush fabric was soft enough to cradle your incredibly sore body and let you sit up in a somewhat comfortable position that alleviated some pain. You could not allow your mind to wander, not now. Another cramp rolled through your stomach.
First, you get this parasite out of you and then you hunt down a god.
By the time the two ex-Avengers burst through your front door, guns blazing, your contractions were barely minutes apart. “It’s time.” You gasped between bouts of pain. Sam acted first.
He helped you stand, supporting your weight in his arms as he guided you towards the open front door. When the pair of you reached the front steps, Bucky had taken off in a panic, ripping through the house to find your hospital bag and the carseat for the baby.
“Come on mama, only a few more steps and then you can rest.” He kept his voice calm as he guided you but another spark of pain made you scream.
“Shut the fuck up you star spangled bitch. Which one of us is having a 10 pound watermelon shot out of their cooter.” He looked at you with wide eyes, truly shocked by your vulgarity. “God Sam I’m so sorry. I- Jesus Fucking Christ!” You hunched over as another contraction slammed into you like a truck.
Your hand tightened around his to the point where he winced from the pain, but like the smart man he was, he kept his mouth shut. “Got the bag, let’s go!” The soldier sprinted past you in order to shove everything into Sam’s truck before he quickly wrapped a metal arm around your plump waist and hauled you forward.
“Bucky put me down! I can walk!”
“Not fast enough.” He said, anxiety obviously lacing his tone. You attempted to squirm from his hold but you quickly exhausted yourself and let him carry you to the car.
The rest of the trip was a blur of pain and shouting, but not only from you. Sam and Bucky also contributed to the insane amount of noise in the car. You were put in a private room in the back of the hospital considering that Captain America was your delivery partner, and given all of the best amenities but none of it helped when your little thunder decided to make their entrance.
After 13 hours of being in labour, Astrid Natalia Thorsdottir was born.
“Jesus, why does she look so weird?” You glared at Bucky who had an incredibly puzzled look on his face as he watched your daughter settle to sleep in your arms. Sam smacked him upside the head for you.
“She was just pushed out of a very small hole, you’d look even worse if you went through the same thing.” And just like that, Sam was in your bad books again.
“Will you two stop it? She’s absolutely perfect.” You smiled down at your little girl, gently stroking her chubby cheek with your finger. Her faint eyebrows scrunched but she remained asleep, completely milk drunk. Already, you could see her father in her face, the shape of her jaw, the startling blue of her eyes.
God, it hurt so much. He abandoned you and yet he still haunted you in the form of something you craved so deeply. You could not stop the tears from gathering, slowly filling up behind your eyes. You couldn’t cry, please don’t cry. You begged yourself but it was of no use.
Arms wrapped tightly around Astrid, you grieved the relationship you had lost. How could he so easily believe that you would stray, break those vows you held so dear? Your chest shook with silent sobs, jostling Astrid but she did not wake. A comforting hand touched your shoulder as Sam spoke up.
“What happened?” His voice was level if not a little soft, trying to comfort the blow of the question, or more likely, the answer. You shook your head, unable to tell them.
But Bucky, being the observant man he was, quickly came to his own conclusion. “Does it have anything to do with the fact that Thor’s shoes were by the front door but he wasn’t there and you never asked us to call him?” The hitch in your breath was the answer he was looking for. “What did he do?”
The room fell silent for a moment while both men stared at you intently. “He said Astrid wasn’t his.”
“Right, Sam, we’re going to kill a god today.” You sighed and grabbed Bucky’s wrist before he could even take one step forward. As much as you would love for them to defend you, it would probably result in not only a massive rift between the very few heroes left and leave the two of them in their own hospital beds.
“Please, not now. This is not the time nor place for any of that. I just have to pick myself up and move on, that’s it.”
“But-“ Bucky started but you cut him off with a glare.
“No, we deal with it later and like adults. Today is about her.” You gestured to your baby and his eyes softened.
“Fine but if he upsets you again, I’m not holding back. I will track him down and destroy that blond idiot.”
“There is no need to track anyone down, I am already here.” Thor looked thoroughly embarrassed and heartbroken as he stood in the doorway. You could see that he was deliberately making himself smaller, like he always did when you were mad at him or he did something wrong, In this case, it was both.
Bucky’s eyes met yours with a silent question, you shook your head. Stepping forward Sam blocked the god’s view of you and Astrid with his body. “I think you should leave.” Your chest warmed with how determined your friends were to protect you both but the part of you that loved your husband no matter what, screamed out to him.
Your voice was soft but all of them heard you. “It’s ok. Will you give us a minute? We need to talk.” Thor curled in on himself even more as a deep blush spread across his cheeks. Good, you wanted him to be ashamed of what he had done.
Astrid shifted in your arms, a small cry escaping her lips so your attention was pulled away from the god and the soldiers, allowing the former to set such hateful glares on the man, he felt genuinely terrified. The pair of grey and brown eyes were alight with a fire he had never seen before, well more like he had never been on the receiving end.
But he would endure thousands of beatings and harsh glares if it meant he could be right back next to you again. He pleaded silently that they would let him pass.
Sam conceded first with a kiss to your temple and a cold look at Thor, he left. Bucky followed a few seconds after, shoulder checking the god with his metal arm as he passed. Thor barely moved but he got the message.
“What’s her name?” Astrid was fully awake now, one of her arms waving about as she had partially escaped the wrap she was in. The smile that came over your face as you looked at her made Thor’s heart skip a beat.
Her small hand wrapped around your index finger when you placed it in front of her, her grip surprisingly tight for a baby only a few hours old. “Astrid.” You replied before you laid a small kiss to her soft forehead.
Thor beamed internally. Maybe he still had a chance. “I’m sorry.” He said after a moment but you did not meet his gaze.
“You’ll have to do better than that. I cannot believe that you would think I cheated on you!” You hissed caused Thor to flinch.
“W-well I believed that I had been gone for a year-“ He tried to explain but you cut him off.
“And your first thought wasn’t ‘oh maybe I counted wrong’ but that I broke our vows? Do you know what that makes me think?” He shook his head, fear creeping through his veins. “It makes me think that you were so quick to jump on that thought because you cheated first.”
“No! No! Never! Please believe me! I could never! I love you more than anything!” He sank to his knees, begging you to believe him.
“Then why didn’t you believe me?”
“I don’t know.” Your heart dropped but you quickly steeled your face and tucked Astrid to your breast, shielding her from his view.
“Thor. If you can’t trust me enough to believe that I wouldn’t cheat on you then I don’t think this marriage can continue.”
“No please!” He cried, his hands gripping at the bedspread in a desperate move. “I cannot be without you. I need you and Astrid please.”
The tears had returned in a tidal wave, streaming down your full cheeks and wetting the neck of your hospital gown. “Then why?”
His head dropped to the mattress as if he were in prayer. “Because I was scared. Scared that I could never give you children and that some other human man could. That you would leave me because of that. I couldn’t live with myself if I kept you from having the thing you have always desired.” His voice was muffled against the thick fabric but you heard him all the same.
“It is the one thing I am meant to do and I failed you.” His own tears were falling now, but he was too cowardly to let you see them, so he kept his head down. A squeak from your daughter forced you to look down on her.
She was gazing up at you with those big blue eyes you knew so well, the eyes you had fallen in love with from the first moment you saw them. You could already see her growing up before you. Her life was in your hands, how she was raised, who she was raised by, and all you could think was that she deserves to have her father around.
“I can’t forgive you, not now. It ripped me apart when you said all those things. I was waiting for you for months, so eager to have you back in my arms to begin this new chapter together but you destroyed that hope.” Thor’s fingers curled into the scratchy sheets as he prepared himself for your rejection and your anger, but it never came. “And yet, I can’t make myself walk away. I need you more than anyone I have ever needed before and I know that I couldn’t live with myself if Astrid and I stayed away.”
With that, Thor’s body sagged like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His body trembled with relieved sobs. “But we need time and I think some counseling. We’ll be ok, I promise.” You cooed, prying your hand from Astrid’s grip to run it through his short hair. Thor nodded in agreement, not yet able to speak.
And that’s how Bucky found you hours later, Thor kneeling at your beside, your hand on his head and Astrid in your arms as you all slept, getting some much needed rest.
Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Join my taglist!
All works
@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @km-ffluv
Marvel
@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @luvvvjada @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017
Thor
@raajali3 @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @mandyzsick101 @galaxydj654 @getoutofthere @blasianbitch @theweepingvulcan91 @springdandelixn @valen-yamyam16 @ladyburberry @im-a-satanic-ritual @l9ckheed @tinyinfluencerharmony @r0si5 @kittycatkrissa @justanotherpasserby-blog @goobysgoobers @xoxokiaraaxoxo @stabmemaybe @kobaltdragon
#thor odinson x reader#thor odinson x plus size reader#thor odinson x pregnant reader#thor odinson x you#thor odinson x y/n#thor x reader#thor odinson x female reader#thor x female reader#thor x you#thor x y/n#thor x plus size reader#female reader#plus size reader#reader insert#anon#angst
683 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hazbin Hotel Prompts
Part II
An assortment of prompts taken from the series Hazbin Hotel on Amazon Prime.
Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor.
In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s.
Reblog, please do not repost or add.
“ That looks perfect! ”
“ What the hell is that? ”
“ Everyone is being too nice. Obviously, it must be a lie. ”
“ I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared! ”
“ People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome. ”
“ No, don't resist. This is how it has to be. ”
“ Do you mind? I'm in the middle of breakfast. ”
“ I'm not about to put on a show for these fucking chumps. ”
“ Actually, I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one. ”
“ I swear to fuck if you say dicks--! ”
“ Get your mind out of the gutter. ”
“ I don't know if this is really working they way we hoped. ”
“ Honey, you have to trust me here. ”
“ What's the plan, boss? ”
“ It has been age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. ”
“ It's fun to keep everyone on their toes. ”
“ Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take it as quite the compliment. ”
“ We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest. ”
“ Yes I know, I've been absent for some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering. ”
“ Where did you get this? ”
“ You better show some respect. ”
“ You've got it twisted. I'm not the one who needs a new attitude. ”
“ Mad that I acted respectless? Well, it's cause no one could respect this. ”
“ You're long past trending. ”
“ Why are you avoiding war? ”
“ No bond stronger than those formed through bondage. ”
“ I'm ready to punish some bad boys. ”
“ This is how you learned to trust people?! ”
“ There is nothing stronger than the trust between comrades and arms. ”
“ I took charge today and it all went sideways. ”
“ I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to never fail you. ”
“ Ugh! I just walked up all those stairs! ”
“ I did what I had to do. I'm not discussing this. ”
“ Who's to say who'll survive the fray? I might lose the ones that I was killing for. ”
“ I'll be your armor. ”
“ Let's keep this between us, shall we? ”
“ Well, at least you can take a beating like a champ. ”
“ Thank you for pulling me out of there. ”
“ It's hilarious you think I'll tell you anything. ”
“ What makes you think you have any right to insult my work to my fuckin' face? ”
“ I see right through you and all that bullshit, and how fake you are. ”
“ I'm sure you'll manage without me. ”
“ Maybe you can, I don't know... Command some authority? ”
“ It's not mean. It's, uh... Aggressive kindness. ”
“ Oh, so this is where the magic happens. ”
“ You don't want a role, do you? Because I can make you a star. ”
“ You bring her here to protect you? To fuck with me? ”
“ I own you. Or have you forgotten that? ”
“ I didn't want you to come here. I already asked you to leave and you didn't listen. You made things worse. ”
“ Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me. ”
“ Didn't realize this was a 'drinking to forget' kind of night. ”
“ If you got a problem, you're not gonna find the solution at the bottom of a bottle. ”
“ You would be lucky to get a chance to fuck me! ”
“ Have fun being a lonely piece of shit. ”
“ Be a doll and bring me another one? Daddy's outta juice. ”
“ You think I ask for it? I don't ask for any of this shit! ”
“ You might as well just cut the act. ”
“ It's not an act! This is who I need to be! And this? This is my escape. ”
“ I know what it's like to regret the choices made and knowing you can't take it back. ”
“ You're a loser just like me. ”
“ You're a power bottom at rock bottom, but you got company. ”
“ I'm trapped and it gets worse with every hour. ”
“ Eat lead, sucker! ”
“ I can handle myself, baby. ”
“ Sex ain't the only thing I'm good at. ”
“ Thanks... for caring about me. ”
“ Hey, how about that drink? ”
#rp meme#rp memes#rp prompt#rp prompts#rp starter#rp starters#memes#starters#prompts#roleplay meme#roleplay prompt#roleplay starter#roleplay memes#roleplay prompts#roleplay starters#sentence meme#sentence memes#sentence prompt#sentence prompts#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel 2024
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
been writing this off and on for about a month and now im finally... finally finished
Waffle House Hashbrowns (Smothered & Covered)
reiner x reader
cw: afab reader, fem reader (wears skirt, gets called a good girl) softdom reiner, spit kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, mdni
"You want me to what?"
"You heard me. I want you to spit on me next time we have sex."
Reiner is bamboozled, flabbergasted, stupefied. Him? Spit on you? The person he loves most on this earth? Why would he do that?
"You must be joking."
"No, I'm not. I think it'd be really hot."
Reiner blinks twice, slowly. This makes no sense. "But why would I do that?"
You sigh, sit up on your shared bed. "Because I want you to and it's sexy? If it makes you uncomfortable we don't have to."
Reiner swallows hard, feeling backed into a corner of his own creation. He wants to please you in every way possible, and that means never degrading or disrespecting you. But if the only way to please you is to degrade you, well, he can't exactly say no. He touches your arm, gently keeping you in place. "No, I'll do it. I'll do it for you."
You laugh lightly, move your other hand to lay on top of his. "You don't need to be so serious about this, Rei. It's supposed to be fun!"
"Sorry," he says, hanging his head. "Just have trouble. You know I never want to make you feel lesser. You... you mean everything to me."
You pout a little without thinking. He's so sweet sometimes it borders on saccharine. You turn to him, bring all of him that will fit into your smaller frame into a tight hug. "I know how you feel, baby. That's... kind of why I want to try this with you. Because I trust you. I know you won't do anything I don't feel comfortable with."
He digs his chin into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his cheeks burning. He can give you all the flowery words in the world, let you know without a doubt that he's wrapped around your finger, but the second you reciprocate he's a mess. "I said I'll do it. No need to make me cry about it."
You chuckle, knowing that's not just an empty threat. Ever since he confessed his feelings, he's let everything show right on his sleeve, letting you into his inner world without a second thought. "All right, start getting hydrated." You pull away, run a hand through his hair. "I just know your spit is salty from all those peanuts."
He looks shocked, face in a comical 'o'. "What do you mean? I've barely touched the container in the pantry."
"Yeah? And what about the empty one in the trashcan?"
You watch the blush rush up from the line of his t-shirt to his cheeks. Busted. He looks away, defeated. "I'll go fill up my water bottle."
---
It was your normal weekend routine: wake up, run errands that couldn't be done during the work week, come home and get ready for your date night, have a great time with your man, profit. Only your profit margins tonight? Exponential, unprecedented gains.
Reiner's hands are exploring every inch of you the second the front door is closed, keys flung to the floor, leftovers all but forgotten on a side table.
"Can't wait to get you in bed," he murmurs, breath hot on the bare skin of your shoulder. "Gonna make you feel so good, promise."
You almost want to giggle, because this is so unlike him, to be so domineering and borderline possessive, but you're too into it to break the tension. He's trying something new for you, and you're as grateful as you are turned on. Before you can encourage him to keep going, he's swung you back into his arms fully, head close enough to his chest that you can feel the erratic beating of his heart.
And Reiner's nothing if not a man of his word. He picks you up bridal style, one arm doing most of the heavy lifting around your shoulders, while the other grips firmly into the meat of your ass. He ascends the stairs to your shared bedroom on muscle memory, his eyes too busy drinking you in to give mind to much else.
"So beautiful," he whispers, like he can't help himself. He hesitates on the top step, bringing you down to rest your bottom on the bend of his knee. He uses the added support to lean his head down, catching your lips in a deep kiss. "And all mine."
It only takes a few more steps before you're at the foot of your bed, and Reiner hesitates. He chuckles nervously, dances from one foot to the other. "I, uh, forgot to take my shoes off," he breathes, and you realize you're in the same predicament. "Just got too caught up in it."
Before you can assure him that it's fine, it's okay, his mouth is on yours. He's kissing you like he's starved for it, hands dancing excitedly at your waist, your shoulders, your breasts, anywhere he can touch. A well-timed squeeze of your inner thigh forces a small moan from your throat, and he takes that opportunity to plunge his tongue into you, tasting and exploring further. His knee pushes your legs open while he attacks your mouth, grinding lightly against you, just enough to tease.
You look up at him and laugh lightly, adjusting in his arms to kick off your shoes. The two of you had gone to a local restaurant in nicer outfits, but it certainly wasn't a black tie affair. Blouse and skirt for you, button-up and jeans for him. He lays you down gently, toes off his loafers and pushes them under the bed, always the gentleman.
"Sorry," he mutters, wasting no time in clambering on top of you. "Don't want to track mud in the house."
He breaks the kiss to come up for air, a trail of spit connecting your mouths. He glances at it, then smiles at you, eyes hooded. "This what you were talking about?"
You nod up at him, too love drunk to speak. "More," you manage to breathe out, hands snaking up his arms to rest on his shoulderblades, familiar and comfortable.
His smile morphs into a smirk, and those deep golden eyes go dark. "Greedy," he whispers, face impossibly close. He brings a hand to your cheek, caresses it with a feather light touch, before bringing his thumb to your lower lip and pulling your mouth open. "You'll take what I give you."
He leans down like he's going to kiss your open mouth, but instead he sucks in his cheeks, puckers his lips, and slowly lets the spit that coats his mouth drool into your own. With his lips in your mouth and his thumb holding you open, you have no choice but to take it, its warmth pooling and spreading into every corner of you. It's not spitting on you per se, but it is unbearably intimate. Exactly what you'd expect from a man like Reiner.
He breaks away again, taking that same thumb and hand to force your mouth closed. "Swallow," he orders. You comply without a second thought, throat bobbing as you take it all into you. Reiner can't help the little moan that leaves him, seeing you so obedient and hazy-eyed from just the taste of him. He's gonna lose his mind. He can barely huff out a "good girl" as he's unbuttoning your blouse.
And for someone who usually relinquishes all control to you in the bedroom, Reiner is remarkably good at this. Blouse removed, he pulls up your bra and dives for your breasts, licking and sucking and making lewd noises you seldom hear from him. His hands circle around your back, unhooking your bra with the dexterity of a professional. Which, with how much he lavishes over your boobs, may as well be the truth.
Without thinking you respond in kind, bringing your hands up to his collar and working your way down. His blond chest hair peeks out around button four, and you have to resist the urge to grab him by it and pull him close, to devour him in even more open mouthed kisses.
Not tonight. You remind yourself. He's in control.
Breasts now fully freed, he takes one in his mouth and brings his hand to play with the other. He's always been good at this, knows when to pinch and suck and fondle and which spots hit just right, but tonight is different. He's using his tongue more, applying pressure to your nipples and taking as much of you in his mouth as he can. Leaving large open mouthed kisses up and down your chest, pulling away and leaving circles of spit in his wake. He's not just giving your breasts some extra attention; he's smothering them in his saliva, marking them as his own.
And apparently this is something he intends to rectify immediately. With one hand still massaging your breast, the other lifts up the hem of your skirt, revealing your lacy underwear that you had worn just for the occasion. "Oh, baby," he coos at the sight. "Did you get all dolled up just for me?"
The realization alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but when he works his way back up to plant a kiss on the shell of your ear and call you his pretty girl, well. You can't help the desperate whine that escapes you. He pulls back to look down at you, lips red and puffy from overuse.
"That good, huh?" He says, voice cocky but expression still so gentle, still so him. "I haven't even touched you yet. I mean really touched you."
You nod, trying not to blush at his honeyed words. He's always loved to praise you in bed, to call you pretty and sweet and all manner of compliments, but the tone tonight is so different. It's not the kind affirmations of an attentive lover, it's the reading of your rights, the growl of a predator circling its prey. And maybe if it were someone else it would scare you, but with Reiner all it does is send a fierce heat straight to your core.
Gently, delicately, he hooks two fingers around the middle of your panties and brings them down, and he can't suppress his groan when he feels the slick that coats the inside. "You're so wet for me. How long have you been like this?"
You look away, embarrassed. "Since we left for our date. I've kind of been looking forward to this."
He chuckles at your confession as he slides your underwear the rest of the way down. "Well," he starts, stowing your panties away in the back pocket of his jeans. "I hope I can live up to your expectations."
You swallow hard, meeting his gaze. "You have so far."
"Good," he says firmly, pulling your legs apart farther with both hands. "Let's try to keep up that momentum."
Without another word, Reiner ducks down to the heat of your cunt, flattening his tongue and licking a thick stripe from your hole to your clit. You moan at the sensation, bring your hand to his head on instinct. But he isn't having that, and swats your hand away with a growl, the low rumble vibrating in all the right ways. He brings his head up, eyes dark and serious, the stain of your precum already wetting his beard.
"No, princess," he says it with stern authority, but makes it a point to bring his right hand to intertwine with yours. "I'm in charge."
He returns to eating you out with an animalistic hunger, working his tongue in between your folds while the sharp bridge of his nose keeps a constant pressure on your aching clit. One hand is still laced in yours while the other rubs small circles around your labia, running up your inner thigh and back down. Reiner is pleasuring you, make no mistake, but the moans that leave his body as he ravishes your insides with his wet muscle assure you that the feeling is mutual.
"Taste so good," you both hear and feel him say, the prickle of his facial hair equally ticklish and arousing. "Want you to cum on my face."
He brings his fingers out of his mouth slowly, with a wet pop, looking annoyed. "I'm sorry," he says sarcastically, leaning down so his head hovers above you. "I thought you wanted my spit, sweetheart. Are you sure yours will do?"
He pulls away after that, causing you to whine at the lost contact. How were you supposed to do what he asked under these conditions? But then you see him take three of his own fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking on them like they're heavensent.
"Reiiii," you whine out, missing his touch. "I can do that for you, c'mon. Lemme taste you, pleaseeeee."
You nod quickly, just wanting his familiar heat back, his taste, his touch, anything. And maybe Reiner's too soft on you, but he relents, sliding those same fingers in your mouth and letting you have your way with them. You take them in greedily, the taste of his skin and spit melding in your mouth deliciously. He should probably do something now, praise you for how good you take him or rub small circles on your clit, but all he can do is stare. At you, so blissed out on just the taste of him, eyes closed and enjoying every sensation. This must be love, he thinks.
Satisfied, you release his fingers from your mouth, pretend you don't notice his eyes boring into you. "Thank you," you breathe, moving his sopping fingers to the bud of your clit. "Please."
Since you asked so nicely, and also because he wants to, needs to touch you, he does as you ask, massaging that bundle of nerves in a way that makes you writhe. A wanton moan leaves your lips, a sound that he can't wait to snatch with his own mouth, kissing you deeply as his fingers dance in perfect rhythm. You can taste yourself in him, can feel the moistness of your own pre on the itch of his stubble. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating.
Soon, you feel that same hand start to drift lower down, two fingers circling around your hole teasingly. You squirm under his delicate touch, a motion that causes him to break away from the haven of your mouth. He looks down at you, eyes dark and analytical, thinking. Maybe this is where he's supposed to punish you for being so bad, supposed to degrade and deride you for your naughty behavior, but he just can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he furrows his brows and ducks back down to your heat, licking around your entrance and peppering your thighs in tiny kisses. And just when you're about to beg for more, for him to just give you what you need please, he plunges two fingers and his tongue deep into you, working everything he has in tandem to bring you to an insurmountable high.
"Reiner," you breathe, a whispered plea to the man below you who is making you come undone with every thrust of his thick fingers, every pulse of his tongue. He's just so fucking good at this. "Reiner, I, fuck, so good."
He hums in approval, stares you down over the slope of your mound, looking hungry and desperate. "C'mon, pretty girl," he growls into you, the pace of his fingers increasing rapidly. "Cum for me baby."
You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue returns to your core, fingers curling and hitting the spot that makes you scream every time. He's finger fucking you at a breakneck pace, the wet schlick, schlick, schlick sound of his thrusts accompanied by the sloppy licks and sucks of his lips and tongue. The lewd noises are all you can hear, all you can focus on, and it sends you careening towards your release. You cry out, feeling yourself clench around his thick fingers, vision going white. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, mouth glued to the lips of your heat, slurping and moaning as he swallows every last drop of your cum. Your head lolls back as you work through every sensation, lost in the depths of unadulterated pleasure.
When you finally get back down to earth, you're almost sent back into the stratosphere by the sight in front of you. Reiner, with his lips pursed, eyes wide and dark, chest heaving, gripping onto your knee with one hand as he undoes his belt with the other. His skin is beaded with sweat, his golden chest hair clumping and curling up in places where your cum has dried, his beard hair glinting with more of the same. He looks like a Greek god, honey eyes raking over you like you're his concubine, his sacrifice.
You sigh, taking him all in as he unbuttons his jeans and shrugs them off along with his boxers. His cock springs out like it's fucking hydraulic, slapping against the bare skin of his stomach and leaking precum onto his navel. It looks so damn needy, the tip so red its verging on purple, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle a moan just at thought of it being in you.
He looks down at you, mouth still closed, and it leaves you a little confused. Shouldn't he say something right about now, about how he can't wait to fuck you stupid, can't wait to feel you cumming around him? It's only when he leans over you, lining up at your entrance, and spits your own slick onto your stomach that you realize why. "Oh, fuck, Reiner," you groan out, completely involuntarily. He smirks at the exclamation, rubs a hand over the wet spot, covering you further in his spit and your cum.
"You like this?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "You like being smothered in my spit? Like being marked? Like, ugh, knowing who you belong to?" He slides into you slow as he speaks, still gripping one of your knees to keep himself from falling apart, from just letting himself go and pistoning into you with reckless abandon.
"Yes, fuck, God, yes, I do," you reply, hoping it'll motivate him to keep this going. It's so rare for him to talk to you like this, so possessive and so filthy, it never fails to drive you wild. You claw your hands into the sheets as you take every thick inch of his shaft, ecstatic at the feeling of him bottoming out, tip already brushing against your cervix. "Feels s' good Rei."
"Good, good," he drawls, trying to respond but overcome by the waves of pleasure starting to thrum around him. He leans down, rests his head into the crook of your neck and starts rocking into you slow and steady, suckling at your neck gently. "You feel good too baby. Can't believe this pussy is, mm, all mine. Can't believe you're all mine."
His eyes go wide and he smiles, pure and genuine. "Oh, thank God," he sighs, sitting up and immediately pulling your legs up to his ears for better access. "I figured I should wait for you to beg but I need you so bad honey you have no idea."
He keeps this pace for a while, gives you space to breathe between every determined thrust, holding your head in his hand while he gives you a hickey that will be impossible to cover up. His stomach slides against yours as he pushes into you, causing the spit and slick to crust and dry, a reminder with each movement of the way he's marked you. And it's unbearably hot, practically a fantasy come true, but you need more.
"Reiner," you murmur, waiting for him to retreat from the comfort of your neck to look you in the eye. "Fuck me? Please?"
He absolutely fucks into you after that, setting a punishing pace that has you seeing stars. He uses one hand to hold up one of your legs, the other pushed into the mattress beside your head, taking every bit of leverage he can to fuck you as hard and as deep as possible. The whole bed groans and creaks under the pressure of his thrusts, and you sympathize with moans and cries of your own. You reach a hand out to Reiner, hoping to ground yourself with his touch, but he shakes his head, opting instead to push your knees up and thrust into you even deeper than before.
"Look at you," he huffs out, every word punctuated by another jab of his cock. "All fucked out for me. You really are all mine, aren't you?"
Finally grabbing onto his arm, you whine and bob your head, already knowing what he's going to ask. "Go ahead," you rasp out, trying to keep it together. "Cum in me, Reiner."
You nod, tears prickling at your eyes from the rampant pleasure washing over you. You don't trust yourself to speak right now, you know all that will come out are broken cries and pleas for him to keep going. Instead you watch him with hungry eyes, rapt attention all on him as his thrusts become sloppy and messy, his own golden eyes struggling to stay focused.
"I-" he swallows, trying to keep composed through it all. "I've made you mine, marked you every way I can. Except one."
He doesn't need to be told twice. He presses into you hard and fast, chasing his high with cries of your name, a sound so filled with need it sends you tumbling towards your own release. You feel his white hot seed shoot into you in spurts, every rope of his cum a sign of his possession of you, inside and out. It's ecstasy.
Eventually, his hips still, and he looks to you, mouth open and eyes wide. "Was, uh," he breathes out, trying to collect himself. "Was that what you were thinking of? Did I do okay?"
He smiles, brings your other hands to his lips and catches your knuckles in a chaste kiss. "I think," he pauses, trying to find the right words. "I liked it too."
You laugh despite yourself, because of course it was okay, it was way better than okay. You bring him close to you, both of you soft and pliable after the workout, and he quickly gets comfortable with his head on your chest.
"That was amazing, sweetheart." you say, kissing the top of his head, fingers playing in the loose strands stuck to his forehead. "Thank you so much."
You snort, a little derisive. "You came a lot for someone who only 'thinks' they liked it."
Reiner blushes, buries his face in-between your breasts. "Okay," he says, muffled. "I liked it a lot."
He beams at you, absolutely fucking radiant, like you hung the moon and the stars, then scoots up to kiss you once on the lips, deeply. "I love you, Y/N."
You smile wide, feel it stretching the corners of your cheeks. How dare he cum in you like a dog in heat and then immediately act like the cutest dopiest baby in the world.
"Hey," you mutter, blushing at the way he looks up at you. "I bought you more peanuts."
"I love you too, Reiner."
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
Comfort.
Genre: angst (kinda) and fluff
Warnings: cussing and lots of crying 😭 also bakugou may be slightly out of character (?) I’m not sure
“You know I love you right?” Those words shook your heart as you looked at katsuki with glossy eyes. The feeling of your stomach dropping, his hand caressing your cheek. The calloused digits buring your already tear-stained face as he removes his hand.
All day you’ve been avoiding katsuki, all day you haven’t said a word to him. Or anyone else for that matter.
He was worried to say the least. You didn’t even answer his Goodmorning text or walk up to him during breakfast. His own head rushing through millions of thoughts as to why you haven’t uttered a peep to him, or any of your friends.
You sigh, nodding as that’s really the only thing you can do at the moment, not wanting to say anything because if you do, sobs will escape.
Katsuki’s frown deepens at you not responding. He knows that he didn’t do anything wrong at this point. Seeing you walk to your bed, looking at him expectingly. The blankets pushed to the side, welcoming him in onto the mattress.
Walking over, the ash blonde lays down. His arms caging you in as you bury your head into his chest.
The overwhelming feeling of everything that’s been stressing you out came crashing the second his muscular arms wrapped around your figure.
Sobs filled Katsuki’s ears as you let everything out. Shaking as fat hot tears rolled down your cheek once again.
Your fits balling up the backside of his shirt as you weep. His hands rubbing circles on your back, knowing that you’ve been having this pent up.
Katsuki knows you all too well, one of the things he’s found most comforting about you is that you both are very similar on how you handle your emotions.
Always keeping things bottled in, always staying quiet when something is bothering you. Only speaking up when necessary, there are days where you just don’t feel like conversing with people and that’s totally fine with the both of you.
He understands how you feel, reminding him of when he blew up on deku, after All Might retiring.
He didn’t like the fact that you were in pain right now though. And he knew that he couldn’t do anything but be there for you, letting you bawl all over his shirt, and pull him closer as your sobs grew louder.
“It’s ok baby, I got you.” The blonde looked down to you. Feeling his heart ache as he saw your eyes. Red with exhaustion and worry. The sounds of your wails are something he never wants to hear, burning his ears as his chest tightens.
“M’ so sorry Kat!” You let out through sobs. You didn’t mean to ignore him all day. Or anyone for that matter. But everything has been so overwhelming, the feeling of not being able to breath followed you everywhere today.
Being engulfed in a dark empty and cold mindset as you couldn’t pay attention in class. Having to excuse yourself and sprint down the hall to the restroom, shutting the stall and taking deep breaths like if you were about to be submerged into the deep ocean.
All of this being ticked off from the agency you were supposed to be training with. The pro hero giving you harsh comments and criticism on something that wasn’t your fault. His words crushing your self esteem as he said you were never going to make it onto the pro hero’s charts.
“That’s your stance? Are you trying get killed on your first day?”
“The hell was that fighting?! You can’t do that and expect everything to be fine!” All you could do was be quiet and nod. Frustration and anger bubbling up inside you as you look at the “mess” you apparently made.
There was a rock on a fire extinguisher. One that you didn’t even throw, it was his side kick.
On your last day there, the pro hero came up to your desk. Knocking rudely on the wood to get your attention.
“You know when I saw you at the sports festival, I thought you were so much better than this.. turns out you’re just another pretty face. You’ll never make it out in the real world l/n. I expected better from you. Goodbye and don’t let the door hit you out!” Walking away, his hand was in the air signaling you to get the hell out already.
All you could do was stand up and grab your things, quickly leaving the stupid building as you bit down on your lip. Trying to stop the tears that were spilling out.
That was two days ago. When you came back to the dorms, you made your way straight to your room. Not bothering to stay down with everyone else to share about the agency. Or to talk to your teacher, Mr. Aizawa about the pro hero and his unprofessionalism.
Instead you locked yourself in, finally letting your feelings out, dropping onto your bed until you passed out.
At least now you were with your boyfriend, in his arms as he comforted you, in his own way.
“About what? What’s wrong y/n?” His voice was laced with concern, pulling you out of his soaked shirt, he looked at you with heavy eyes.
Trying to calm down you sit up, chest heaving up and down as you tried catching your breath. Katsuki’s hands cupping yours, feeling his palms sweatier than usual.
“Stupid pro hero!” His words wrung through your head.
“Don’t push yourself if you ain’t ready. I can wait” a sense of relief fell on katsuki as now he knew for a fact it wasn’t his fault for you feeling like this.
“He said I wasn’t good enough to be a hero.” Your voice was quiet as you but your lips. The metallic taste making you tastebuds quiver with disgust.
“He said what?! You’re crying over that?” Widened scarlet eyes look at your still shaken up state. Worry quickly being replaced with anger.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?! He’s a nobody y/n don’t listen to that extra ass pro hero! You’re more than capable of being a hero, don’t let that nobody get to you..” Katsuki’s words were harsh but you know he didn’t mean it like that.
“Go to sleep. I know you must be tired from today, but tomorrow I’m taking you to go talk to Aizawa. That dumbass needs to watch what he says.” A low growl rumbled from the blondes chest.
You laid back down on your bed, looking at your boyfriend to join you. Taking off his shirt as it had your tears all over it, thinking about how wet it probably was right now.
You rest your head on his bare chest as he pulls youu on top of him. His arms finding home on the sides of your hips. Knowing that you’ll be snoring in no time, he gives you a peck on the forehead.
“I love you dumbass, don’t take that dumb shit to heart.” Sighing, you nod.
“I love you too katsuki, thank you for being here right now.” He lets out a grunt in response and not long after, soft snores fill his ears. His eyes drifting off, your body still in his arms as his lids close.
༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶ ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶
I gave up at the end but this was a little self indulged. I was sad LMAO 😭 not proof read so sorry for any misspellings 😞🙏
#liz writes#liz fucking talks#katsuki bakugou#mha imagines#my hero academia#bakugou headcanons#bnha fanfiction#bakugou fluff#bakugou angst#spodify#bnha bakugou#bakugou x y/n#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou head cannons
166 notes
·
View notes
Note
HIIII SKYY i hope youre doing well !!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼
for... your recent post... for ateez 5th anniversary... what about stargazing with one of the members ??2?2!?2 stargazing seems so cute and ive been in my hopeless romantic mood HAHSHAH stargazing with... yeosang maybe ?!2?!/2 or anyone ?!2?/!2!2 or all of them ??2?2?2 (much love to youuu btwwww 💗)
Thank you for your request, dea <33 I kinda wanted to write an ot8, but then I realised it would be kinda messy T^T (read: sky is not as funny as she thinks she is and scraped the crack!ot8!stargazing au asdfghjkl). I hope you enjoy regardless ^-^ @jaehunnyy my love, my baby, than you for beta-reading this for me. (You know what's coming next, bubba ehehehe /lh)
ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): Stargazing with Yeosang!
ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!yeosang x gn!reader
ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. friends to lovers.
ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) FLUFF. Yeosang is whipped. Reader is whipped. Mentions of scary amusement park rides. WooSan being WooSan. Lmk if I missed anything ksksks
ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 1.4k
Gasping for breath, you stumble out of the roller coaster, your heart racing and pounding in your ears. You cling to Yeosang for support, your legs feeling like jelly as the world swirls around you. A wave of dizziness threatens to send you tumbling to the ground, but you steady yourself with a deep breath.
As the adrenaline subsides, you can feel his comforting hand rubbing your back gently. His soothing gesture allows your focus to shift away from the queasy feeling in your stomach, and you momentarily forget the whirlwind of the roller coaster.
“That was…” you begin, still trying to find your words in the aftermath of the exhilarating ride.
“Thrilling, right?” Wooyoung’s voice cuts through the haze. He drapes his arms casually around San’s shoulder, whose expression is clouded with worry as he watches you.
“Speak for yourself,” Yeosang chides Wooyoung, guiding you to a nearby bench and handing you a water bottle.
San rolls his eyes and lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head at Wooyoung’s enthusiasm. “I’m not really scared of heights, but that ride did make me a bit queasy, too. Honestly, how are you still so bouncy after all the thrilling rides we’ve gone on?”
“That’s because nothing can bring me down,” he declares with unwavering confidence, striking a dramatic pose that sends you into fits of laughter. His cheerfulness is contagious, and you can’t help but be amused by his antics.
“Aish, what are we supposed to do with you?” you quip, playfully swatting his arm. It is in moments like these that make your friendship with Wooyoung all the more special.
Wooyoung’s laughter fills the air, a melodious sound that perfectly complements the joyful atmosphere of the amusement park. The boys begin to don their masks while you make your way back towards the parking lot. Yeosang falls into step with you, his arm gently sliding around your waist. The contact sends a rush of warmth through you, and you can feel the heat creep up your neck. Gratefully, you welcome the cover of the dimly lit evening, concealing your reaction from Yeosang’s view. The simple gesture, unnoticed by Wooyoung and San, who seem to be arguing about something trivial, fills your stomach with butterflies as you walk side by side.
As the two males pile into the car belonging to Wooyoung, Yeosang chooses to slip into the passenger seat of your car instead. You look at him in question, slightly confused, for he had arrived with the other two earlier in the morning.
“Y/N?” His voice carries a note of hesitance, capturing your attention as you navigate the car out of the parking lot after bidding farewell to the other two guys with a non-committal wave. You respond with a hum, signalling him to continue. “I was wondering if you would like to go somewhere?”
“Somewhere?” You echo, your curiosity piqued as you cast a fleeting glance in his direction.
He hums softly, biting his lip as he mulls over what to say. “Remember the clearing we found when I was a trainee during one of our hikes? Let’s go there.”
A warm smile plays upon your lips as you consider his suggestion, “Alrighty.”.
You take a U-turn at the next traffic light, moving further away from the city’s relentless hustle and bustle. The towering skyscrapers of Seoul recede into the horizon, and the scenery changes as the cool night air rustles your hair.
The highway stretches before you bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. It offers a serene and uninterrupted passage through the stillness of the evening, like a canvas bathed in silvery hues. Yet, a silent, unspoken connection thrives within the confines of your car. Yeosang’s gaze remains locked on you. Unseen by you is the yearning that simmers in the depths of his captivating eyes as he watches you navigate the road.
A cursory glance at your companion alerts you to his gaze on you, and determined to quell the blush that threatens to betray your own emotions, you break the silence that envelops you both. “We’re almost here.”
He responds with a quiet hum, his eyes now gazing at the landscape outside the window. The already scarce buildings are replaced by trees and thick undergrowth. You park the car in a convenient spot, and Yeosang wastes no time taking out a blanket from the backseat of your vehicle. He reaches for your hand when you walk up to him, and the two of you hike up the hill like this, with your hand safely in Yeosang’s grasp. His warm touch contrasts sharply with the frigid bite of the night air on your cheeks. Once you reach the clearing you guys had discovered a few weeks before his debut, he spreads the blanket on the grass and lies down.
“Come on,” He pats the empty space beside him. You join him, looking at the beautiful night sky studded with countless stars. The stars above flicker in the vast, dark canvas of the night sky, and you both lie there, basking in the tranquillity of the moment, sharing this cherished place that had become your secret sanctuary, away from the weight of responsibilities and worries that plague you otherwise.
A few moments later, you turn to face Yeosang, who is bathed in the bright moonlight, looking otherworldly at best. You can’t help but admire how the moonlight accentuates his features, imbuing him with an unearthly radiance. It lights up his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw, rendering him even more striking than he already is. Even the shadows that dance across his form lend him an air of nobility and majesty.
As if aware of his gaze, Yeosang turns to you, his eyes alight with something you can’t seem to put your finger down on. His lips curve into a warm smile, mirroring the fondness that radiates from his gaze. “Hi.”
The huskiness of his voice acts like a gentle caress against your senses, making your breath hitch. Yeosang hums in amusement, smiling softly at you, drawing you to himself like a moth to a flame. It’s as if he has stepped out of a dream, ethereal and radiant, and the sheer beauty of the moment is nearly overwhelming in its intensity.
“Hi,” you repeat, your voice more shaky than you had hoped it would be.
Yeosang fully turns to his side, popping his head up with his hand, while the other finds its place upon your cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin. Ablaze with unmistakable love and yearning, the intensity of his eyes is a force that gently tugs at your heartstrings until you can’t help but close your own.
“Y/N,” he breathes.
You open your eyes, a myriad of unspoken thoughts and feelings swirling within you. But Yeosang’s thumb sweeps across your bottom lip with a tender, delicate touch as if casting a spell over your senses, leaving you in a state of breathless enchantment. It takes an immense effort for you to not close your eyes again.
Your answering hum is laced with curiosity and a touch of anticipation.
A brief pause lingers, stretching into seconds that feel like an eternity. But when he speaks, Yeosang’s voice carries a weight of sincerity. “I like you so much,” he confesses softly, his words echoing into the velvety night. “I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you, and with time, my feelings have only grown stronger. I’m sorry if it’s sudden, but I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t expect anything in return from you. You can say no—”
You can't contain the cascade of emotions swirling within you, and you find yourself cutting off his words, needing him to know your fondness for him that you had kept to yourself for so long. “I like you, Yeo,” you breathe out; the suddenness of your words leaves him wide-eyed.
“Huh?” he stammers, caught off guard by your revelation.
“I like you, too, dummy,” an affectionate laugh escapes your lips as you look at his bewildered expression, which slowly gives way to the most radiant smile you’ve ever witnessed on his face.
“Are you sure? I won’t be able to offer you everything a boyfriend can,” his tone is soft and genuine as he seeks confirmation. His words bring butterflies to your stomach, and your eyes line with unshed tears.
Without hesitation, you reach up to cradle his face, “I don’t care about the fact that we can’t go out in public or the possibility of us having to go months without seeing each other. What matters to me is that you're mine, and I'll treasure every precious moment we share, no matter how fleeting or infrequent.”
In response, Yeosang leans in, drawing you into a sweet and tender kiss. The stars above seem to wink knowingly, as if they, too, are celebrating this newfound connection, their celestial light bestowing a blessing upon the two of you.
#cromernet#kvanity#wonderlandnet#k-labels#yeosang x reader#outlaw/fics#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez fluff#yeosang imagines#yeosang scenarios#ateez fanfic#yeosang fluff
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everyday Rockstar - College!Ross Macdonald
A/N: Hi babies, me again. College!Ross was only supposed to be a oneshot but my delusional ass going-to-uni-in-two-weeks self wants more. Like I always say, delusion is manifestation. Anyways, enjoy!
word count: 1.1k
♫ The City - The 1975
The annoying one on your course invited you to one of his band's gigs. You weren't expecting much, I mean, this was Matty we're talking about. You could see it now, him parading across the stage with a beer bottle in hand and his shirt unbuttoned. However, what you weren't expecting was who he'd been sharing the stage with.
You and your coursemates are running a bit late. Despite it being two months since you moved out here to the city, you're all still figuring it out - the right bus routes to take, how much alcohol is too much, what shoes not to wear on any given occasion.
The wet, November pavement reflects the air back colder than it is. As you open the doors, you accept the warmth in the pub like an old friend. Your entrance is punctuated by loud drums and droning vocals, not to mention THE 1975 printed in blocked letters on what seems to be a pinned up old bedsheet. Yup, definitely Matty's band.
Your preconceptions were correct. There Matty was scantily-clad with a bottle in hand. But not of beer - wine. How pretentious. So French New Wave of you, you thought.
But next to him was someone familiar.
"Ross?" you whisper to yourself. You stand in shock, squinting hard as if to take a picture. You are mesmerised by the simultaneous nonchalant power and peace he brings on stage.
It caught you off guard how incongruous the History student was to the setting and yet how perfectly he fit in a dark, sultry place like this. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a far cry from that hoodie you stole from him just a month prior.
You and your mates walk into a gap in the crowd, not so dissimilar to a clearing in the woods. The song ends to which you all clap and holler as if your life depended on it. As you scream with adoration, he spots you.
His eyes widen like a child opening presents on Christmas. He smiles a smile so genuine it puts all of Matty's theatrics to shame. He's doing that thing where he looks down at the floor smiling, plays with the chain around his neck for a second. He's something out of a movie scene.
"Isn't that the guy you're hooking up with?" a disembodied head notices and exclaims behind you. You open your mouth but a response doesn't form. It's a yes or no question and yet neither response fits.
Ever since you met at that goddamn party, poured your heart out to each other, and ended up doing your laundry together, you both knew it would never be just hooking up. Heck, you haven't even done anything of that nature (yet), you've just been kissing, hanging out. Yes or no doesn't fit these weird romantically and sexually charged interactions you both have been having over the past month. So you turn to her and just shrug, mouth an "I don't know" much to both your confusion.
"This is a song called The City," Matty slurs down the mic. The percussion kicks in, heavy and confident.
There's a second before the other instruments follow suit where you wave at Ross and he waves back. It's this secret moment that's just yours. Blink and you'll miss it.
"You wanna find love, well, you know where the city is," your coursemate exclaims, like a drunken beat poet.
The bass rings right through you, your whole body reverberating under his hands, with every string he plucks. He catches glances at you as you bob your head and sway, eyes closed to really feel it. When your eyes aren't closed, you think he's made to be looked at like a Greek God on high platforms and by crowds bigger than these. It's like this for the entire show.
---
After the show, the pub is electric.
Matty's weak fist hits the side of your arm as he cries, "Ross is waiting for you outside!"
"Fuck you! You're actually not half bad, you know!" you hit him back with all the force he lacks and rush out through to the back smoking area.
The wet, cold air greets you as you walk through the door. "Ooh, it's cold out here," you shiver. Ross is right by the door, having just taken a cigarette out of the box. He's surprised by your arrival but smiles that same warm smile. "Matty said you asked for me?" you questioned.
The slightest eyebrow raise and air of confusion about him and you're prompted to go back the way you came. Trust Matty to embarrass you like that.
"No, no. Stay." Ross' hand grabs onto your wrist. His warm touch lingers a moment longer, it could melt your ice skin. It's a moment soundtracked by the muffled pop coming from inside and the hum of cars far away. You oblige to his request. He lets go of your wrist. You lean on the wall of the pub.
"Matty didn't mention you were a part of the band," you say, watching the buildings and stars twinkle in the distance, "as a matter of fact, YOU never told me you were a rockstar."
"I'm no rockstar," he laughs, raising the cigarette to his lips. Just as he lifts up his lighter, he decides to hand it to you. You step closer, looking at the lighter and then back at him. Since your first meeting, it always got so tense between the two of you. You light the cigarette, shielding the flame, hands grazing his lips ever so slightly. The smoke dances into the night as he blows out.
You break the silence. "Bass as well, best instrument out of them all... you were really good."
"Oh yeah?" he smirks.
"You were amazing... why didn't you mention it before?"
He touches his lips in contemplation, his gaze fixed on you taking in your smokey eyes and dark lips. You were made to foreground cityscapes, he wants to say. But all he manages is an "I don't know."
"God, if only I'd known I was brushing shoulders with a rockstar this whole time."
"Rockstar", he whispers. You catch him blushing almost as bright as the tip of the cigarette. You take note of his affinity to that particular word. An unconventional name to use on him later.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I love the city," you breathe out.
"The place or the song?"
"Both."
You wanna find love, well, you know where the city is. The lyrics, shared like a memory, waver in another moment of silence.
"Can I kiss you?" he finally says as he takes his cigarette from his mouth. His dark eyes are transfixed on your lips whilst he plays with his chain.
"Yes please."
And he kisses you. You fling your arms around his neck like you did that very first night. He wraps his jacket around you, as if to take all of you in.
He is the warmth when it's cold. He is the rare quiet to your fluorescent metropolis. The cigarette ash falls onto the pavement as it dwindles away in the background. The pop song inside fades to another. The cars keep passing through. It's another secret moment that is all yours.
A/N: FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you to @hypersonic04 for help when I was brainstorming. You know I love you.
Right so I don't know Tumblr terminology, dunno what a blurb, oneshot etc. actually are. College!Ross was only supposed to be a oneshot (?), but because I'm continuing the story, it's technically not now, is it? Is it a series? I don't even know. I don't know what this is unravelling to be, in my head it's just a series of episodic vignettes in the same universe about the same person, not necessarily a series. If you have any input on the subject, by all means, tell me because I'm confusing myself.
Also, what do we think about college!Ross as a tag? I'm British so college means something different here, so when I write it I just have the image of a 16-year-old doing a vocational course in my head. The tag feels very American, but university!Ross or uni!Ross makes him sound like a unicorn or smth silly, student!Ross also sounds lame asf. ANYWAYS, I digress, I hope you liked this. And send me requests of what you wanna hear from me/just to chat <3 <3
#band!au#ross macdonald#the 1975#1975 band#fanfic#matty healy#matty the 1975#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald fic#ross macdonald fanfiction#ross macdonald fanfic#ross macdonald imagine#ross the 1975#fresher!ross#college au#college au ross#university au#university au ross#college!ross#college!au ross#college!au
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stay, Stay, Stay
Owen Power x Reader
song: stay stay stay - taylor swift
synopsis: after the sabres lose the game, owen is really upset and you two get in an argument. the next morning, you apologize to owen
warnings: angst, fluff, arguing
word count: 942
a/n: this is shorter than my usual ones, but i love red tv and i wanna start making more fics with taylor swift songs and more fics abt nhl players
masterlist | request info
The Sabres lost the game due to an overtime shot. Your heart sank as you listened to the loud buzzer pierced through the intense air, knowing it was over. You watched as Owen got off the ice, throwing his stick in anger.
You left your seat and walked straight out of the arena. You waited a bit outside the locker room while staring at your nails. Finally, you heard the door fly open and saw an angry Owen with his duffel bag.
It was obvious to you that he had been crying over the loss. “Baby,” you frowned as you went up to him. Your hand moved on its own, cupping one side of his face, rubbing circles there.
He didn’t say anything when you touched his cheek, just looked away from you. “Hey… you played amazing.” It wasn’t often he would cry, but when he did, it shattered your heart.
He shook his head, pushing your hand away from him. “It’s whatever,” he huffed, walking away from you. It hurt so much to see him like this. He bottled up all his emotions to prove that he was tough, which meant he would break constantly.
You hurried after him, catching up to him before you could lose him again. “No, baby, it isn’t,” you argued, grabbing his arm lightly.
He froze immediately and turned around, eyes flashing in anger. “Leave me , Y/N. I don’t want to hear what you have to say right now, I’m pissed. The team was losing, that’s all. And the guys were being assholes.”
You lowered your eyebrows, your jaw slightly clenching. “I wasn’t the one who beat you, you don’t have to get angry with me.”
Owen frowned, realizing how this had been affecting you. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t done yet.
“You always act so distant every time you guys lose,” you argued. “It’s not my fault! I don’t know why you treat me like it was. How am I supposed to love someone who doesn't care about me?”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Y/N…you know that’s not true. I… I care about you. I love you,” he told you sincerely, putting his palm to your cheek. You pushed him away just like he had before. He sighed, “Let’s just go home and just… talk to me when you calm down.”
He unlocked his car and got in the driver’s seat. You watched as he did so, your demeanor shifting from angry to heartbroken seeing him like this. With trembling fingers you climbed into the passenger's seat next to him.
The argument continued through the night, causing you to lose sleep. It was now morning and you were laying in your bed, staring at the wall as you recapped what happened the night before. You and your boyfriend of 2 years almost broke up the previous night.
You had thrown your phone at him in a fit of rage and you even forced him to sleep on the couch. You felt tears prickle your eyes as the look on his face replayed in your head, the look of despondent on his face.
You knew what you needed to do, you needed to resolve the argument. You got out of bed and opened up the bedroom door, you saw him sitting on the couch with a blank expression on his face.
The bags under his eyes were heavy, proving that you weren’t the only one who lost sleep over the argument. He looked up at you, taking a deep breath in.
You knew what he was expecting. He was expecting you to break up with him. It broke your heart to see him like this. You sighed, “We should talk about it.”
He got up from the couch and went into his hockey duffel bag, pulling out his helmet and throwing it on his head. “Okay, let’s talk.”
A small smile slipped on your face as you approached him. You took the helmet off his head and sighed. “I want you to stay,” you confessed. His eyes became glossy as his eyebrows slightly raised. “I’ve been loving you for quite some time… and I know no one else is gonna love me when I’m mad.”
Tears escaped from the corner of your eyes as you pressed your lips together in a tight line. He placed his hands on the side of your arms, gently rubbing them. “I think that it’s best if we both stay,” you sobbed.
“Oh, honey.” He pulled you into a tight hug, your arms quickly wrapping around him as you sobbed into his chest. “Of course I’ll stay. I always will.” You looked up at him, a small smile forming on your face as he placed a kiss on your forehead.
You closed your eyes, feeling yourself being pulled in a sense of safety. His scent washed over you as you melted into his embrace.
You let go of him, wiping away some of your tears before letting out a giggle. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the couch. “I’m so used to dating douchebags who take all their problems out on me.” You sat down next to him, his arm snaking around you. “But you carry my groceries and now I’m always laughing,” you said. “That’s why I want you to stay.”
Owen glanced down at your lips again and sighed. “Y/N, I love you because you have given me no choice but to stay.”
Your cheeks turned a light pink as you buried your face in his shoulder. You held onto his shirt, not wanting to lose contact.
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
in a vehicle / confessing feelings
for @amberlouigi who wanted this prompt for colin & isaac, i hope i did it justice!
Isaac has been sitting on this revelation for a while now. Getting used to it, learning how to live with this feeling in his chest so huge it threatens to swallow him whole. And now he’s going to say it, declare it, claim it. It’s fucking terrifying.
He’s not sure when it started. He was in too deep before he knew anything was happening. The timeline is all screwed up.
There were the before times, years and years full of friendship. Then there was that time between finding out Colin was gay and going to his house to apologise. The time they don’t speak about, when Isaac’s head was too full of noise and fear to make much sense of anything.
That was the night it smacked him in the face.
Sitting next to Colin on the couch asking him question after question until he was answering one of his own with too much confidence to be entirely theoretical. He didn’t know he was in it til it was too late, didn’t know it was something he could be in until he pulled Bumbercatch’s name out and then suddenly it was all he could think about.
He knew guys were, like, objectively fit. But he’d never really considered where he was in relation to that, or where he’d like to be. Turns out he’d like to be in the thick of it, right up close and personal.
They finished out the game but Isaac doesn’t remember who won. All he remembers are the different scenarios he had playing out in his head. Did he want to kiss Bumbercatch? A little, but mostly in the same way he wanted to kiss anyone hot. Just to try it, just because he could, but not in an earth shattering kind of way. So he probably wasn’t into Bumbercatch. Did that mean he wasn’t gay? Or that other one, the one like his baby sister. Bisexual. Huh. Okay. That word was only a little less scary.
But surely he’d have known. So if he wasn’t into Bumbercatch, was there someone else, someone more his type. He thought about all the girls he’d kissed, shagged, fallen in love with. Women who were fit and silly and liked a laugh, who went pint for pint with him and joined him on the dancefloor.
“‘Nother round, boyo?” Colin had asked, tapping Isaac’s empty beer bottle with his own.
Which had of course led Isaac to looking. Wondering. Thinking. Imagining. What would it feel like to kiss Colin? What would it feel like to go out clubbing and dance with him, instead of just near him? He thought about pulling Colin close, holding him tight, moving together, hands on his hips, thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.
Colin was standing in front of him, still waiting for an answer, and Isaac had to stop thinking about it.
Isaac couldn’t stop thinking about it, because Colin was standing right in front of him, his shirt riding up and Isaac could see his tummy, the trail of hair leading down to his …
“Nah, I gotta go,” Isaac said, jumping up and winding up almost chest to chest with Colin. “Another time though, yeah?”
That was nearly a year ago now.
He’s been sitting on it for A While.
But Isaac had to make sure. He had to double check his answers, be careful. He had to know he wasn’t going to say something he didn’t mean. He couldn’t lie about something like this. Not to Colin.
He couldn’t say he liked men, maybe liked his best friend more than he was supposed to, because what if he was wrong?
So Isaac made sure.
And by the time he was sure, Colin and Michael were on the rocks and he had to be the supportive best friend. He sat through conversations about their relationship, gave genuinely good advice that was totally unbiased, and then when they finally broke up, he, Bumbercatch and Jamie took Colin out to get wasted and dance it off.
Then he had to wait to make sure he wasn’t going to be Colin’s rebound guy. At which point, Roy pulled him aside and told him to pull his finger out, which was super embarrassing and he never wants to think about that particular boot room conversation ever again.
Roy in a healthy committed relationship is the worst kind of Roy to get advice from. He gets all sincere. And smiley. It’s honestly a little creepy.
But now they were here. Him and Colin in a car together for the three hours it was going to take to drive to Cardiff for Colin’s aunty’s birthday. Alone. Just like Isaac planned.
And now he thinks he might be bottling it.
Colin – in the passenger seat, because like hell was Isaac letting him drive all that way, he’d prefer it if Colin never drove again actually – is singing along to whatever Jamie T song is playing, totally oblivious to Isaac’s crisis.
Just because Isaac is very good at not talking about his feelings doesn’t mean he doesn’t want people to notice when he’s shitting bricks beside th–
“You okay in there, Isaac?” Colin asks, cutting in over Isaac’s spiralling.
“Huh?”
He reaches across and rubs his thumb up and down between Isaac’s eyebrows. “You’ve got your emotionally constipated brow furrow going on. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah bruv. ‘Course it is.”
He glances over, catches the almost reassured look on Colin’s face. He can practically hear Roy’s voice in his head: are you really going to let an opener like that go?
Fuck it.
“Um actually. There’s some stuff I’ve been wanting to tell you.” It really is so much easier like this, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel. He can say it to the road in front of them, just like he’s been practising in the mirror. “Nothing bad, I promise, yeah? I just need you to listen.”
“I can do that,” Colin says. And it’s Colin. It’s fucking Colin. He’s Isaac’s best friend. He’s been building it up in his head for so long, he kind of forgot that Colin is the easiest person in the world to talk to.
“So uh. You know how you’re gay?”
Colin splutters, trying to keep his laughter in and failing.
“Yeah, Isaac. I know how I’m gay.”
“Right. Well. Me too. Sort of. Half. I’m bisexual, or whatever.” He knew he should have rehearsed this bit longer. I’m bisexual, or whatever, real smooth. Wanker.
Colin doesn’t laugh though. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all, which would freak Isaac out if he wasn’t used to the way Colin goes blank when he processes new information. It’s like he’s uploading software and needs to restart. It’s cute. Fuck, he’s so cute.
“Thanks for telling me. It’s not an easy thing to say,” Colin says. He puts his hand over Isaac’s on the gearshift and squeezes.
“There’s more. Um. Yeah, I’m just going to… I’m kind of in love with you?”
Colin doesn’t go blank this time. Isaac watches out of the corner of his eye as Colin’s mouth drops open.
“Can you pull over?” he asks, and that is not exactly what Isaac wanted to hear, but he does it anyway. If Colin doesn’t want to be in the car with him anymore, Isaac sure as hell isn’t going to keep him here.
They haven’t even made it to the motorway yet, which turns out to be a blessing. Isaac pulls in behind a big white van. He reads all the information on the back of it while he waits for Colin to leave or say something, and considers calling the number and getting his mum’s conservatory renovated for her.
When Colin finally finds his words, they’re not the ones Isaac was expecting.
“Can you say that again?”
Isaac turns to look at him. He doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t look confused or freaked out or angry or any of the things that Isaac was dreading. He looks shocked. But beneath the shock there’s something a little like hope.
Isaac latches onto the hope, ties it to his own to make it double.
“I’m in love with you.”
Colin breathes in. Breathes out. “Not kind of?”
“What?”
“Before, you said ‘kind of’. You’re not kind of in love with me?” Colin asks, and he’s smiling now.
“Nah. That was a lie. I’m definitely in love with you.” It keeps getting easier every time he says it.
Colin laughs. “Cool.”
Isaac opens his mouth to say Cool back, because he’s starting to understand the need to reboot with new information, but he doesn’t get anything out before Colin launches himself across the centre console.
Kissing Colin is nothing like kissing any of the guys in packed clubs. It’s soft and sweet, the two of them smiling too much to kiss properly. Isaac’s seatbelt is cutting into the side of his neck, and Colin is talking into the kiss, but it’s still making Isaac smile dopily.
“I’m definitely in love with you too,” Colin says, words pressed into Isaac’s lips. “Like, have been for a while. Probably will be for a really long time. Hope that’s okay.”
Isaac doesn’t answer. Colin’s always been better with words anyway. He just keeps kissing him until he shuts up, and then he kisses him more.
They’re an hour late to Aunty Megan’s birthday. But they walk in holding hands and Isaac knows some things are worth the wait.
#i really wanted to post it tonight so i hope it doesn't feel too rushed!!#colin hughes#isaac mcadoo#colin x isaac#ted lasso#madeleine writes#amberlouigi
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a little scratch p.2~ James potter
Includes age regression, mentions of blood and blades, violence, poly!marauders, cg!sirius and Remus, little!James, cg!reader
“Mornin my little butterfly” you said softly kissing the tired boy. “Mornin mama” he said as his eyes were barely opening. “Morning tulip” Remus said kissing your guy’s cheeks before getting up to start the day. “M’ too tired” Sirius grumbled causing James to giggle.
“Cmon baby let’s get you dressed and then we can go get some food” Remus said softly picking up the short boy from your arms. “Heyyy give me my baby!” You pouted. “Fine, but make him a bottle then go down to breakfast since he didn’t eat dinner yesterday, and don’t only give him sweets.” Remus said looking at you with a glare. “I would never” you said with a smirk.
“Oh really? Then what about last week when you let him eat SIX pumpkin pasties and he ended up vomiting?” Remus said matter of factly. “Shush and give me Jamie” you said before effortlessly grabbing Jamie and smothering in kisses. “We don’t have classes so why are you up so early?” Sirius said glaring at Remus.
“I need to help Minnie with some prefect duties and Yule ball planning for the fourth years” Remus said simply. “Plus, jamie has an potions exam so you guys need to help him study” Remus finished before giving you all a kiss goodbye and putting Jamie’s dummy in his mouth.
“Mkay Jamie how bout some cartoons and coloring after breakfast and then we can help you get ready for your big boy test hm?” Sirius said giving the smaller boy a kiss on his forehead. “Wan milk no food” Jamie whined. “I know but daddy said you have to get food” you said softly hoping James would throw a tantrum. Little boy is too spoiled.
“No!” James whined behind his dummy. “baby we don’t yell neither do we say no, let’s get you dressed and I’ll give you your favorite candy in the great hall hm?” You said grinning when James turned his sniffle into a smile. “Mkay!” James said before cuddling into Sirius’s chest.
A few minutes later you all were at the great hall with the rest of the group. “Is he even supposed to have a pumpkin pastie before lunch?” Mary said with an eyebrow raised. “Yes, cause I said so.” You said simply while Sirius chuckled. “Did Remus say yes to him having candy so early in the day?” Peter asked with a smirk.
“Yes he did. And mind your beeswax” you said rolling your eyes. “Sure he did fangs” lily said letting out a small laugh. “He did! We would never lie to Remus!” Sirius said giving the rest of the pumpkin pastie to James. “Yeah! What baby wants baby gets” you said planting a kiss on James’s cheek beside saying your goodbyes to the rest of the group.
An hour and a half later remus was back from his prefect duties and you guys were all walking Jamie to his potions class.“Mama and dada gave me a pumpkin pastie while you were gone daddy!” Jamie said through a fit of giggles. “Oh really?” Remus said chuckling before bringing his gaze to you and Sirius, which you both were currently looking at the ceiling.
“tulip it’s time for your exam! Did mama and dada help you study?” Remus asked while James was holding his hand. “Mhm! Bye mama bye dada!” James said giving you both a kiss goodbye before waking into professor slughorns class.
Little did James know you guys were planning to “talk” to Lucius about his little “encounter” with James. You all changed your directions to the abandoned hallways where Lucius was known to “roam”. A minute later you guys were walking towards Lucius. “Hey Guys how’s that little boyfriend of yours?” Lucius said chuckling.
“Better than ever.” Remus said simply. “Aw that’s too bad maybe next time I’ll drag my knife deeper.” He said with a smirk. “There’s not gonna be a next time Lucius” Sirius remarked. “Oh? Why not?” Lucius asked with fake curiosity. “You’ll know why soon enough. Pin him.” You said smirking.
“Get the fuck away from me!” Lucius snarled fighting against Sirius and Remus who weren’t budging. “Now you know how James felt.” You said pulling out a pocket knife. But not just a regular pocket knife, Lucius’s pocket knife.
“How the fuck did you get that!?” Lucius spat out. “Doesn’t matter, just how it didn’t matter when you cut James’s face hm? Hold his face remus.” Was all you said before putting the blade at the top of eyebrow and cutting down. Deep. Deeper than how he did with James. You felt no mercy even when he was screaming at the top of lungs.
He deserved it. Deserved it for hurting let alone touching, what’s yours. You didn’t stop until the blade was all the way down to his cheek, then you let go. “You learn your lesson Malfoy?” Sirius asked chuckling. “Maybe next time you don’t touch what’s ours hm?” Remus asked with a chuckle.
“We’ll be nice and let you go, if you apologize to James.” You said with a sarcastic smile. “I’ll die before I’ll ever fucking apologize to him that blood traitor deserved it.” Lucius said before getting cut off by you dragging the blade across his jawline. “FUCK! OK! OK!” Lucius screamed”. “I’ll apologize now let go!” Lucius said trying to catch his breath.
“Alright good. But we’re not letting you go” you said with a chuckle. “Not until we see you apologize.” Remus finished. “Now Cmon we’re wasting daylight” Sirius said rolling his eyes.
Jamie was falling into headspace ever since his exam. He was pretty excited to tell you guys how he got a %100 on his exam hoping he’d get an extended bedtime for being a good boy. His heart fluttered just by him imagining you guys praising him.
He went to your dorm but was confused on why you and the boys weren’t there. He just shrugged it off and decided to lay down until you came back. He instantly perked up when he heard footsteps near the door. But he did not expect a bloody covered Lucius walk in with you guys. “Mama what is he doing here?” James asked with a whine curling up into pile of stuffy’s he bought.
“Just coming to say sorry right malfoy?” You asked with a smile. “I’m sorry ok? Now let me go” Lucius said feeling lightheaded from all the blood he lost. “It’s okay” James said softly. “ I’ll bring him to the hospital wing while you guys get him ready for bed I’ll be back soon” you said grabbing Lucius by his hoodie walking out the door.
“Cmon love time to get ready for bed” Remus said softly placing a kiss on his forehead. “Tell us about the exam baby” Sirius asked with a smile cleaning Lucius’s blood from his hands with a wipe. “Did mama hurt him bad?” James said with a pout at the possibility of his mommy hurting someone. “Not Baby of course not” Remus said wiping his hands as well.
“Just gave him a little scratch”
#james potter#james fleamont potter#james potter blurb#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#sub james potter#sub space#poly!marauders#little james potter#little!james potter
274 notes
·
View notes
Note
You asked. You shall receive:
Since I haven't really seen this ever, what about Knuckles finally allowing himself to feel and to cry over something. He tries to hide it, thinking the rest of them will be ashamed of him or look down on him......but instead, the rest of the Wachowskis work together to just be there for him and show him they're not ashamed of him or disappointed in him, and it's okay to feel and to cry, they love him and they always will, and nothing will change that. Ever.
Grief Sucks
It never mattered how many years have passed, or if Knuckles has a new family who loves and takes care of him. Grief always finds a way to come swinging when you least expect it.
Knuckles loves his new family dearly, but.. he still misses his tribe. His father. He misses playing with the teenage Echidnas and training to become the strongest he can be.
If it weren’t for Maddie making it clear in the beginning that Knuckles is allowed to miss the family he had before, he would feel even more terrible longing for that life he had before. He still feels guilty. He has all he could want now, why does he feel like he needs more?
Knuckles knows it isn’t his fault, and Sonic knows it isn’t his fault what happened that fateful day where they lost everything. They’ve stopped blaming each other.
But still.. now Knuckles finds himself in his room in his basement clutching the small leafy headpiece his father had given him before leaving for war. It no longer fits him, and it hasn’t for years. Knuckles sniffles and holds it to his chest. He hates to cry. He’s supposed to be the strong warrior who never falters. An unmoving unstoppable force of extraterrestrial nature. Unfortunately his feelings are not something he can stop. Knuckles softly begins to cry. He doesn’t dare let out his inner pain and turmoil, because he doesn’t want to risk his brothers hearing him.
Turns out, it’s not his brothers he had to worry about. He hears scratching at the door on the top of the stairs. He hears the door open and Tom yelling that Ozzy is coming down. Ozzy charges down the steps to Knuckles. He jumps up onto his bed and lays down, putting his head in Knuckles’ lap. Ozzy looks at him and let’s out a sigh. Knuckles smiles a little and pets the dog “..you’d never judge me, Oz.” Knuckles and Ozzy have formed a really good bond. Ozzy suddenly lifts his head and starts giving Knuckles some puppy kisses, licking away his tears.
The sweetness of the gesture makes him cry a little more. Then he hears some shuffling beside him. He turns his head and Tails is there. “Knuckles..?” Tails has never seen his big brother cry before. Tails’ ears and tails droop. Knuckles quickly wipes away his tears “hello, Tails.” Tails hops up onto the bed next to Knuckles “are you crying?” He asks. Knuckles shakes his head and hides his face because his emotions are betraying him. Tails thinks for a moment and leaves.
Knuckles sighs. Tails is about to become a tattle tails. The entire family shows up and they’re all immediately showing concern.
Maddie sits next to Knuckles and puts her arm around him, pulling him close “what’s wrong, baby..?” Knuckles mumbles in response. Sonic now understands “…you miss them, don’t you…?” Knuckles nods slowly.
Knuckles looks at his parents “I am sorry you have to see me like this.” Tom gives him a confused look “why are you sorry? Knuckles.. it’s ok to cry. It’s always ok.”
Knuckles’ vision gets cloudy again as his eyes fill with tears “but.. but I’m supposed to be strong. I have to carry on the legacy of my tribe, and make my father proud. I know what you told me.. but it still feels wrong.”
Maddie leans her cheek on her boys head “Knuckles, it isn’t wrong. You had a family before us. They were taken away unfairly. You’re allowed to mourn them. Being strong isn’t about keeping everything in. Being strong is facing these challenges with honesty and not bottling it up. And you don’t have to be strong alone anymore.”
Knuckles takes her words in. He clings to her and let’s everything out. His family gathers around him to hug him, Ozzy included.
Everyone cries with him, even Sonic.
“Sonic, I have a question.” Knuckles gives his brother a serious look.
“What’s up?” Sonic asks.
“How did you ever stop hurting?” Knuckles asks, taking Sonic off guard. Sonic looks at him shocked. He smiles and shrugs “I never stopped hurting.”
“Then how come I’ve never seen you cry?” Knuckles asks.
Sonic crosses his arms “I’m not a very emotional guy. I don’t cry a lot.”
Tails pipes up “you cry in your sleep sometimes.” Sonic has a moment of realization “wait, is that why I sometimes wake up to you in my bed??” Tails nods. Sonic laughs “I though I was slick!”
Tom and Maddie take the time to remind them that they don’t have to cry alone. But if they want privacy, that’s ok. “We love you boys no matter what, and we will continue to love you until the end of time. Got that?” Tom asks. The boys nod.
The trio feels so lucky. They won the orphan lottery!
Knuckles and Sonic plan to go back to their home planet to visit where they grew up. They’re gonna start healing together.
#man I nearly cried making this one#sonic the hedghog movie#sonic the hedgehog#sonic 2#knuckles the echidna#movie knuckles#knuckles wachowski#miles tails prower#tails the fox#movie tails#sonic#movie sonic#tom wachowski#maddie wachowski#ozzy wachowski
83 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
areyouboredcole
cole preston. thats it.
aireandpartners
aire + partners
danphimcachnhietvn
Dán phim cách nhiệt cửa kính
fanbutnotfanatic
on my nerd shit
klower0
Klowerº