#even without ripped fuel he’s still like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monster-disaster · 4 months

Note

maybe a short story on a human reader being taken by an orc army/camp and just absolutely used as their personal toy???

When I read your request, I couldn't help but hear, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" from Lotr.

But let's be serious: I hope you will enjoy it. :)

Orcs x Reader Warnings: filth, nothing but filth

The air is thick with smoke, mingling with the musky odor of sweat and leather. The scent of blood and violence still hangs heavy, fueling the heat and tension around the tents made of rough animal hides. The crackling flames of the campfire cast dancing shadows across the rugged faces of the warriors. Feral hunger glints in their eyes as they come closer. It feels like the ground rumbles and shakes under their steps. Their muscular, battle-scarred bodies pulsate with anticipation. The sounds of their gruff voices fill your ears, making you deaf to everything else. Your gaze jumps from orc to orc. The chieftain's large hand is heavy and warm on your shoulder as he pushes you deeper into the center of the camp.

The bounds around your legs and wrists make it hard for you to move, but it doesn't stop the warriors from closing around you. Their heat and raw desire surround you, making you shake and sweat under their primal gazes. Adrenalin fuels the fire in your bloodstream and thrums through your body until you almost buckle because of the throb between your legs.

The chieftain behind you reaches for the clasps and buckles that hold your armor together. The metal piece is dirty and beaten. His calloused fingers trace the edges of your armor before letting it fall to the ground. In other circumstances, you would feel relieved without its weight. Your undershirt sticks to your chest because of the sweat that still glistens in your heated skin, revealing the curve of your breasts. Another orc steps closer, barely smaller than his leader behind you. You remember him. One of his eyes is milky-white with a long scar from his eyebrow to his nose. He rips off your shirt, dropping the useless fabric before reaching for the buckles of your pants. You can't even feel the cold night air between the orcs towering over you.

The warriors move in sync. Their hands work in unison to strip away the layers covering your body. They reveal the soft swells of your curves and the hard cords of your muscles. Your skin is decorated with old and fresh scars, injuries, and bruises. The others get louder and louder with each glimpse they get of your naked body. The clear signs that you are a warrior, a fierce opponent, fuel their desire.

Soon, you stand exposed among the orcs, ready to be ravaged by them. Your limbs are not tied together anymore, but it changes nothing. You can't make yourself to move. It would be futile anyway. You can't fight against them, and they would enjoy chasing after you too much.

The orc in front of you wastes no time. His rough hands eagerly reach out to grope and caress every inch of your body. His dark green fingers dig into the flesh of your breast, squeezing and kneading, pinching your nipple until you mewl and try to get away from him, falling into the arms of the chieftain behind you. The leader grabs your hip, making you grind down on his leather-covered erection. His unyielding grip leaves red imprints on your skin. The cold of his rings digs into the flesh of your hips.

One hand slips between your legs. Rough fingers slide over your slickness and prod at your entrance. Your stomach jumps with fear and excitement. "Look at this juicy cunt, boys! She's all wet and ready for us!" The orc in front of you announces loudly to everyone around you to hear. The camp gets even louder with feral growls and words that make your heart beat faster in your ribcage. Whatever you want to say, to tell him to stop or to go deeper, dies on your tongue. The only thing keeping you standing is the chieftain behind you, still grinding his cock against your ass while his man explores your wetness. He smears it all over your mound and inner thighs before turning his attention back to your entrance. "I knew the moment I saw her on the battlefield that she would be a good prize to fight for," he grunts, forcing each digit of his thick finger into your pussy. Your walls clench down around him, to keep him out or to force him deeper, you don't know. "You like that, don't you?" The chief grunts next to your ear. His question fans over the curve of your neck. "I can smell your pussy, girl." "We all smell her." Someone says from the circle of orcs surrounding you. Their eyes are heavy on your body as they watch you. You steal a few glances at them. A lot of them are already naked, tugging at their cocks hanging heavy between their thick thighs.

The male in front of you continues to bully your cunt with his finger, going deeper and deeper while his other hand reaches up to grip your hair. He pulls back your head, making you arch your body. "You're ours now, human," he snarles. "But do not fret. I saw you fighting, I'm sure you can handle a few orc cocks too." A rumble of laughter waves through the air, and your pussy tightens at the thought. "Oh, look at that!" He laughs, pushing another finger into your wet hole. A groan gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of your walls stretching around him. "She likes the thought." "She does," the chief grunts, pulling his own cock out of his pants to force your hand around it. Your fingers curl around his thick rod automatically. If you could focus on anything, you would be surprised at its weight on your palm. "She doesn't look like someone who backs out of a challenge." His words are followed by laughter again while you bend and turn the way they want you.

Before you know it, you are on your knees with their leader still behind you, shoving his cock into your pussy while his warrior is busy with your mouth. He taps the head of his erection against your lips, and you open without a second thought. At this point, your mind is too hazy, and your senses are full of their musky scent to do or think anything. You feel like a raw nerve under their pushes and pulls. They thrust in and out of you with a relentless rhythm while you moan and drool around their cocks. You slip in and out of your orgasms, getting more and more drunk on their relentless assault. They push your boundaries, both physically and mentally, until you are nothing but a warm body they can use as they want.

You don't even notice when they come inside you. Their warm seed seeps out of your abused holes, and you almost choke on the orc's cock when he pushes himself deeper into your throat.

The ground is dirty and hard under your weak body as you let yourself collapse. Your muscles shake and twitch while your pussy clenches around nothing. Your chest heaves with every breath you take as you try to clear your mind.

But they are not done yet.

"It's your turn, boys," one of them says, stepping away from you to give enough space for the others. "Keep those sweet holes full tonight."

The air crackles with anticipation and feral need. One by one, the orc warriors step forward, their rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Their calloused fingers trace the swell of your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples until you cry and wiggle. Your pussy pulsates between your legs while their fingers explore your folds and both of your holes. They feast upon your bare curves, their desires ignited by the sight of your vulnerable state.

The first orc doesn't waste his time. His massive frame towers over you, keeping his body up with his trunk-like arms next to your head while taking you fiercely, his thick length plunges deep into your wet and eager pussy. His heavy balls slap against your skin. Your walls grip him tightly even though you are sensitive, and the feeling of him pounding into you makes you tear up. A thumb smears your tears all over your face before pushing into your mouth. Your tongue laps at the digit.

When the orc between your legs reaches his peak, fucking you full of his cum, another one steps forward, hungry and ready for his turn. He turns you onto your stomach easily, positioning himself behind you when you force your knees to not give up under your weight. His hands are gripping your hips as he shoves his cock into your cunt. Ecstasy trembles through your body while someone else grabs a good chunk of your hair and forces your mouth down his hard length. More tears escape from the corner of your eyes as you gulp and suck around the orc's cock.

The orcs continue to take turns, their primal instincts driving them deeper and deeper into you. You become a mess of drool and cum until there is no part on your heated, sweaty skin that they didn't touch or use. They ravage your body with a ferocity that matches the intensity of the battle they had just fought while you scream and moan underneath them.

#sweet asks #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #orc romance #orc x reader #terat0philliac #orc boyfriend

2K notes · View notes

halsteadlover · 6 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬?

*Gifs not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Hotch have occasional rendezvous but each time you promise it’ll be the last even if neither of you seems to be able to stop.

• Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them you guys wrap it if you want to use it!!!), cursing, dirty talk, oral sex m. receiving, basically porn with no plot lol

• Word count: 1824.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY. I hope you like this, let me know what you think. Comment, reblog and like if you want and as always thank you so much for your support.

“Oh fuck Hotch you feel so good…-” you moaned loudly as you kept riding him on his chair. Your shaking thighs burned, your aching knees pressing against on his chair as his dick thrusted deeper and deeper inside you.

His hands were gripping your hips as he accompanied your movements, grunting and trying to remain silent while his fingers pressed against your skin so hard they left marks on it.

He let go of your hip and covered your mouth when another groan escaped your lips, making your moans become just muffled sighs. “Shut up, you don't want them to hear us do you?”.

You shook your head, biting into his palm as you placed your hands on the arms of his chair for support while letting yourself get rocked by the immense pleasure he was giving you.

It was a mistake.

You knew it was.

But God what a beautiful mistake.

You couldn't help it.

Since the day you and Hotch ended up in bed one night after a case and a few drinks, you didn’t stop having these rendezvous, neither of you could help it. Every time you promised yourselves it’d be the last, but it was enough to find yourselves close, or your eyes to meet during the discussion of a case, or for some reason his hand to casually caress yours to break this promise.

You were just like a drug for each other. From that first dose you had that night, you could no longer go without that feeling of euphoria and pure ecstasy the sex gave you.

Aaron Hotchner was the most sinful thought that crossed your mind, the forbidden thing you always craved and God did you love it.

Maybe it was the fact you were a BAU agent and he was your boss, maybe it was the thrill of being discovered, maybe it was the taste of the forbidden – hell, what would the FBI have said if they knew the upright boss of the behavioral analysis unit was breaking the rules that he himself continually reiterated to his agents?

This, however, didn't stop either of you, indeed it was as if all this was fuel thrown on the fire, passion and desire you already felt.

At first you both managed to keep that passion at bay, having occasional sex in hotel rooms when you were out of town for a case. But the more time passed, the more difficult it became to suppress everything, to hide that you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off every minute of the day.

And that's why you found yourself in his office that evening, fucking near his desk while there were still some colleagues still in the bullpen.

“God I've been thinking about you and this damn skirt all day… Fuck… You’re irresistible,” he muttered, his eyes scanning your figure sitting on him as his dick fucked your wet pussy.

He was completely mesmerized.

Your skirt was rolled up around your hips, the sheer black stockings you were wearing until recently had been ripped by Hotch in the heat of passion, your panties were thrown to the floor, your shirt unbuttoned and your bra moved as your breasts popped out and bounced to the rhythm of your motion.

You looked like a fucking goddess.

The walls of your pussy started to clench around his dick, making him twitch inside you, your hips stuttering as you felt your orgasm building more and more. It was as if your body was going through convulsions and you couldn't control it, you just wanted and desired that intense pleasure that only Aaron Hotchner was able to give you.

He wrapped his lips around your breast, sucking and licking your nipple as you threaded your hands into his hair and pulled it. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep at bay the moans and gasps you was struggling to keep quiet.

“Just like that, oh yeah just like that you feel so good Hotch,” you whispered in a gasp, rolling your eyes and head back. His tongue licked your skin, from your breasts, then moving up your collarbone to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin until he left a mark.

Hotchner wasn't one for hickeys, he wasn't one for office sex in the workplace, he wasn't one for quickies, he wasn't one to break the rules that he himself had set but you managed to break down every single part of his barrier, you managed making him lose control in a way that he loved and hated at the same time, you managed to unleash emotions in him that he had never even felt in his life.

You were hurricane.

You were storm.

You were addiction.

And he couldn't get enough of you, never.

“Shit, fuck,” he cursed, biting and licking the skin of your shoulder as his thumb began drawing imaginary circles on your clit making your muscles tense even more and your movements more erratic. You almost had a heart attack from the intense pleasure that flowed through your veins. “God princess you ruin me.”

A breathtaking orgasm hit over you without any other warning like a raging river, making you dizzy and see stars. Your vision went blurry for a few moments, making you even forget you were in your boss' office and someone could actually hear you.

You tried to catch your breath but at that very moment there was a knock on the door, making both you and Hotch freeze in place, his hard dick still inside you. You exchanged a panicked look.

“Just one second.” Aaron had responded after clearing his throat and then continuing talking to you in a whisper, “Get under the desk.”

You nodded and lifted yourself off his legs, which had turned to jelly as you bent down and picked up your panties. You settled under the desk between his legs while he quickly tried to fix his hair and button up his shirt. He stood up and put on his pants, leaving them loose without bringing them up to his hips.

“Come in.”

Your heart was beating so wildly you could hear the pounding in your ears. You stayed paralyzed under the desk, too afraid to even breathe.

The door opened and you recognized Agent Anderson's voice. “I brought the Porters' case report from five days ago Agent Hotchner.”

He nodded, his expression completely serious and professional as he pretended to fill out a file he didn't even remember at the moment.

“Thank you Agent Anderson, leave it on my desk.”

Despite the fear of being discovered, however, you couldn't contain your excitement and the thought of driving him crazy couldn't leave your mind. You placed a hand on his inner thigh, trailing your fingers along his crotch with sensuality.

Aaron almost had a heart attack when you quietly pulled his underwear off enough for his dick to pop out again, still wet and damp from your fluids and you wrapped your hand around it, starting to jerk him off with slow, controlled pace.

“Agent Hotchner there was a thing about this case I wanted to ask you about…” Agent Anderson had asked.

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

Hotch nodded and pointed to the chair in front of his desk, his lips pressed together because he was afraid if he opened them only moans would come out.

Your hand increased its speed and Hotch let out a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair, about to have a heart attack right then and now.

He looked at Anderson, he heard him talking but his brain couldn't process a single word he was saying, too focused on trying to keep a serious expression and not let on that there was a woman under his desk who was masturbating him.

But the final blow came when you wrapped your lips around his dick, taking it all in your mouth and tasting yourself on it. He let out a small moan which immediately covered with a cough, thanking god Anderson was too caught up in whatever he was saying to notice.

His hand reached below the desk and into your hair, pulling it harshly and making you almost moan at the sensation. This caused you to pick up your pace and Hotch didn't know whether to hate you or not at that moment.

He wanted you to stop.

But also for you to keep going because that fucking mouth of yours was pure ecstasy.

“Are you okay, agent Hotchner?” Anderson stopped at a certain point, noticing the way Hotchner continued to move in his chair and the blush on his cheeks.

“Y-yes, I apologize...” Hotch breathed out. “Lord,” he almost let out a groan which he tried to mask with another cough. “I’m not feeling very well these days. C-can…” he stopped again, swallowing another moan. “We’ll talk about t-this tomorrow Anderson. Excuse me.”

You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, feeling victorious for making the always-so-serious SSA Aaron Hotchner a complete mess.

His thighs started to shake, his fingers still pulling your hair as you licked his dick, leaving a long string of saliva on his tip. You wrapped your lips around him again and a hand around the base, jerking him off while simultaneously taking it in your mouth. Your other hand rested on his thigh, pressing your nails on his hot skin.

Your mouth felt like heaven and it didn't take long for the orgasm to start building again after it was interrupted.

“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry. Get well soon then, g-good night agent Hotchner.” Anderson replied and jumped to his feet before mumbling some more nonsense and exiting the office, closing the door behind him.

Hotch let out a particularly deep sigh and rested his head on the edge of his chair as he continued to mercilessly fuck your mouth.

“You fucking little slut, you really can't help yourself huh?” He groaned, looking back at you. His grip around your hair tightened, forcing your head down and making you gag. “My needy little whore, look at you chocking on my dick… Fuck you’re gonna make me come.”

How could he make such derogatory names so damn sexy?

It didn't take long for Hotch to explode into an intense orgasm inside your mouth, not letting your head go until he watched you swallow every single damn drop of his cum.

He exhaustedly leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for his breathing to calm down.

He took your hands and helped you out from under the desk, letting you sit on his lap and kissing you until taking your breath.

He gave you a sweet little kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheek with a thumb, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “You'll be the death of me sooner or later, agent Y/Ln.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria

Aaron Hotchner tag list: @mrs-ssa-hotch, @s1lverhand, @novabckly, @thatcrimeshowchick

Click here to be added to the tag list ❤️

Main Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

Ask link 💭

2K notes · View notes

sim0nril3y · 2 months

Text

Deployment

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: The time has come. It's his first deployment since you've become a couple. The goodbyes are difficult. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), lots of angst, talking of leaving, talking of dying, canon-typical swearing.

One more night. One more night in his arms. What if he didn’t come back? What if he got hurt? What if he went missing? Honestly, you weren’t sure that you could cope with the never knowing what happened. Please, please, let there be some type of miracle that might happen so that Simon wouldn’t have to go. Things had been going so well, it simply wasn’t fair. If only he had any other job in the world. If only he was still a butcher, or something normal like that. Why now?

“Sleep.” Even with his eyes firmly closed Simon commanded you to rest. “You have work tomorrow.” Simon sounded tired, you supposed it was 2am, he had a right to be tired. “I don’t care.” You answered with a sad and quiet tone, eyes fixed on his sleeping frame in the pitch blackness that filled the room. “The morning is going to come whether you sleep or not.”

There was silence for a moment and Simon wondered if you had actually listened and then he heard it. Sniff. Then quiet. Sniff, sniff. Then even more silence before. Hck. Sniff. Sniff. His eyes pried open, adjusting momentarily before finding your face crumbling with emotion, lips firmly frowned and trembling, eyes filling fast with tears that were trickling down your face and soaking the pillow beneath you.

“Babe.” He whispered, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder, squeezing in a comforting way. “Don’t… Don’t bloody cry.” Simon whispered, his own voice a little thicker than usual. “Oi, c’mere.” Then pulling you across the sheets into his arms, holding you to firmly in his strong arms. “You dozy bloody moo…” He whispered, soothingly rubbing your back in small circles as you hiccupped and sobbed into his throat. “I know, I know.”

Honestly, he’d never had to deal with this before. Of course, he’d been around other colleagues and watched how hard it’s been for them to be away from their loved once. For him, it had been a very long time since he’d been in this place before and it was never like he had someone waiting for him to come home. It added an entirely different layer of fear, there was that fear of exposing you to danger but there was always a fear of leaving you. It felt like it hadn’t been that long since he’d learned to love you, allowed himself to let someone new into his life and now there was the possibility it could be all ripped away in an instant. Simon wanted more time, but that wasn’t something he was going to be afforded.

Still, even as your tears flowed Simon just held you, strong and tight in his arms, shushing you and caressing you so gently until your body just succumbed to exhaustion. It brought him pain to think of you being apart from him in mere hours now, sobbing yourself to sleep without his strong arms and his kind words. Fuck, it had never been this hard before.

The following morning Simon was up bright and early to finish his checklist. It seemed that you were restless too and that early awakening lead to you following him around like a lost puppy, eyes watching the clock as if counting down the seconds. “Babe, I’m just going to put some fuel in the car. I’ll be back. I promise.” He’d assured when your eyes had filled with wayward tears as he nabbed his keys. “Sweetheart, can I take a piss in peace, please?” He’d begged as you chased him into the bathroom for the second time that morning. “I’m just going to get a loaf of bread from the other freezer, stay here.” He'd commanded as he unlocked the back door. “Babe, if you wanted to join me in the shower all you had to do was ask…” Simon had purred before you two fell into the steamy shower.

Later that morning you were munching down some toast, eyes fixed firmly on Simon as he made himself a strong tea. It was difficult thinking that tomorrow morning you would be going through this routine on your own. The thought alone was enough for a lump to stick awkwardly in your throat. “Right…” Simon began then, causing you to push down any of those awful feelings and focus. “I’ve left a list of numbers over there…” Turning he held his mug in hand and nodded in the direction of a lonely notepad, it was full of names and phone numbers and occupations. “Reckon they’ll be able to fix any problems you might run into, alright? I’m not gonna be able to be in contact all the time, so I need to know that if there is a problem here, or with you, or with the car that it’ll be covered.”

“Right.” You agreed gently, taking another solemn bite of toast. “Against my better judgement…” Simon continued, stepping across to sit opposite you at the kitchen table. “I’ve added you to my car insurance, use it when you need it, please don’t write it off.” There was almost teasing to his tone. “My driving isn’t that bad…” You grumbled and this only earned a smirk as he took another sip of his tea. “I’ve got all the utilities set up. The mortgage is on direct debit. I’m even paying that kid down the road to come a mow the garden whilst I’m gone, he’s happy to be making a little extra money and it’s one less thing for you to worry about, which means one less thing for me to worry about.” Simon explained.

A frown found your lips. “I’m capable of looking after myself and the house, you know…” Simon lets out a soft sigh then and replies. “I know, babe. I…” He seems to pause, as if taking a moment to find the right words. “I like to know that I’ve covered every possibility at home so I won’t have to worry when I’m out there…” Simon said it like out there was a very distant place, very cold, isolated and very far from you. “Okay?” Silently he was asking you to just trust him and give him these final few hours to make sure everything was set up in a way that gave him comfort, the comfort of knowing that you were safe at home. “Okay.”

The way that you watched the clock on the wall was like you were begging it for more time, making some kind of trade so that Simon wouldn’t need to go. Regardless of what you promised the time still came. There he stood loading his bags into the waiting cab, you stood a couple paces back wanting to give some space. “Let me drive you-” You attempted to persuade. “It’ll be too hard.” Simon answered with finality.

He closed the boot with a shunt and then turned to be looking at you. “It’ll be better to leave you here at home and then call you once I arrive on base. Okay?” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself too. “C’mon now…” He muttered, watching as finally the emotion broke over your face, all that strength crumbled and the tears began to trickle once again. “Oi…” Simon muttered, wrapping you into his warm strong arms. Those same arms you wouldn’t feel again for month. Your last embrace. “It’ll be easier like this. I promise. Easier for you. Easier for me.” Simon whispered, squeezing you so tight in his bulging arms. “I love you.”

It was something so rare and so emotional that you actually gasped, glancing up at him through your watery eyes. “Love you too.” Your words came out less controlled, spoken through a sob. “Love you.” You added, as if to make up for the initial emotional sentiment like Simon might have not been able to hear you over the lump in your throat. “Call me-” “I will.” There was a solid promise.

Then one final kiss. It was searing, his lips pressed against your own so hard that you thought he might bruise you. You never wanted this kiss to end. You didn’t want him to climb into the cab. You didn’t want his promises or his declarations of love and devotion. No, you just wanted him…

A second later Simon detangled you from his arms and climbed into the cab. He knew that one of you had to be strong in this moment and that you were never going to be the one to walk away, so he needed to. Even if it hurt more than being fucking shot Simon needed to step away. He had duty. He had honour. Someday maybe you’d understand, or maybe you never would, but he hoped that at least you’d find some type of normality without him around…

Once he’d arrived on base Simon got back into a routine seamlessly, everyone thought of him as the emotionless and stoic ‘Ghost’. That was all that he wanted to be to these people. The less they knew about his life the better, that way he could shield you from anyone using you against him. He’d never forgive himself… however, there was one person that needed to know. Officially, he needed to speak to Price, if the worst should happen you’d need to know.

It was late. Far too late to be doing all this, but Simon knew that his Captain would still be up. Rapping his knuckles hard against his door a voice called out and in he stepped. John sat at his desk, pouring over paperwork on his desk and gifting Simon a very tired smile as he entered. “Captain.” He kept his voice firm and professional as he entered. “Lieutenant, what do you need?”

For a moment Simon stood quietly, mouth pursed as if he racked his brains for the right words. “My next of kin…” “It’s blank – like we discussed.” About to dismiss him when Simon spoke again. “I need it changed.” John seemed shocked by these words, the argument that they had over not having one and now to have him so quickly change his mind. “What do you need from me?”

John blinked, once then twice before collecting a form from his desk. “Just jot their details down…” Passing over a pen as he watched Simon began to diligently fill in the boxes. His hand-writing was just as he expected, messy and haphazard, but his mind only went to Simon’s homelife… John wondered, did he have someone special? Who was it? What were they like? How long had they known each other? What was the relationship? All these questions that John wanted to ask, but knowing Simon wouldn’t get a single answer. “If I die, tell her.” Yanked back to reality with one simple sentence. “Not some letter. No some top brass. You tell her, Captain.” Sliding the piece of paper back in his direction. “Don’t tell her how - she won’t cope with that.” John nodded. “For fuck sake, don’t show her a body if there is one. She’d never sleep again.”

“Need you to make sure she gets access to my pension. I want every fucking penny of it going to her.” Simon placed down the pen hard on the table. “My house. My car. The shirt off my dead fucking back. I want it all going to her. Okay?” There was desperation in his tone. This was a conversation they were meant to be having 6 weeks ago, with legal and suits around to sign it all off. Not the night before he was going to be put on a plane into a warzone. “Simon-” “John, please…” He didn’t need to see the rest of his face to know that Simon was in anguish, his eyes were enough. “I’ll see that it happens.”

Masterlist | Ask | 10-04-2024

644 notes · View notes

aurasplanet · 2 months

Text

STUPID GRIMES carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, e2l, reader has claustrophobia, reader is maggie and glenn’s adopted daughter, i literally can’t write e2l this sucks so bad i’m so sorry

part two

your arms are crossed over your chest as you look out the window. you and carl had to go on a run, alone, without ripping each others throats out. seriously, daryl left you a note that read ‘don’t rip each others throats out’.

carl had his music blasting through the radio, fingers drumming against the steering wheel completely ignoring your presence. you hated it. he always acted so unbothered as if you didn’t get under his skin. he always acted like such an asshole, criticizing your aim and telling you his is better. “even though i lost an eye!”

always wearing that fucking hat and those fucking flannels and fucking jeans that made him look too good for a total dickhead. it’s like the petty preteen feud started getting fueled by sexual frustration and made you both mad at each other for being hot.

carl hands you the list, “follow it, nothing else. we need to get in and get out.” was he ever going to let the time you saw a cute top on, in your defense what looked like a dead walker, and almost got bit?

“i’m just a girl, grimes.” he rolls his eyes, turning his music up. “plus i can defend myself, you can’t silence me!” with a smirk he turns it all the way up.

you see what looks like a run down store in the distance, pointing at it. in return you get carl yelling, “i know what im doing!” you hop out of the car when he parks, looking over the list quickly.

“you take the walkers on that side, i’ll take this side.” you point from left to right, causing carl to scoff.

“and if i want the right side?”

you huff, “okay smartass, take right. where you don’t have someone in your blind spot to cover you.” carl simply rolls his eyes, and without another word goes to the left side of the store. just as you thought, a few walkers to carl’s right were headed right for him.

you run over and stab every one of them in the head before they could get close, abandoning your side of the store. with the walkers all around you growling in your ear, you didn’t notice the noise growing.

“do i seriously always have to save your ass?” carl looks back at you with a glare before his face widens with shock. he grabs your arm and makes a beeline for the back. he saw the back room when you both walked in, and he hoped there were no dead waiting for you both.

he opens the door and practically throws you in, barricading it behind you two with the metal cart against the wall. you hear a growl behind you and whip around, there’s a walker in a mop bucket reaching out to you. you jam your knife through it’s eye, turning around to look at carl breathless.

carl chuckles and leans against the wall, “who saved who’s life now?”

you grab the mop in the bucket and place it on the walker’s head, masking it’s gross face. “what the hell? i was handling it.”

carl gives you an incredulous look, “handling it? the herd of walkers coming up behind you?” as of right on cue you hear their desperate hands clawing at the door. you sigh and walk around the tiny custodian closet, looking around for something, anything to help you out of this mess.

carl’s never seen you so antsy, he pushes himself off the wall and walks to you. his hand comes up to your shoulder awkwardly, rubbing it a little. “we’ll be fine, we still have our bag, our radios.” you nod, hating this side of you coming out. especially around carl of all people.

you swat his hand away, “i don’t need your pity.”

carl scoffs and goes back to his spot against the wall. “this is why i don’t help you.” you glare at him, leaning down to put your hands on your knees and breathe slowly. focusing on everything but the small room with walls that seemed to close in on you.

“you’re just an asshole, that’s why i don’t want your help.” carl looks at you with a monotone expression. you’ve known him since you met at the farm. daryl found you looking for sophia, and ever since maggie and glenn adored you like you’re their own. but with carl, it’s like he grew out of his menace phase with everyone else but it stuck with you.

“and when i give you the treatment you deserve, you go back to being one.” he doesn’t say a word, he just watches you pace.

“did you never grow up?” you can’t help but word vomit, it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling. getting all of your thoughts out. “i mean, you clearly did. you’re so nice to everyone. why are you so different with me?”

that’s when carl remembers it, your claustrophobia. he remembered that one time in the prison, getting caught with him, maggie, and lori. even that room made you feel weak and petrified. it’s one of the only instances you remember him treating you kindly.

he gets close to you again, face inches from yours. he went to speak but nothing came out. your glassy eyes look at him in a way they haven’t before. you feel so close, the attraction he’d formed towards you was becoming overwhelming and he began to step back.

you grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close again. “don’t…” you look into his eye before hugging him tightly. “don’t. the fear goes away when it feels like it’s just us.” carl let’s out a ragged breath, bringing his arms up around your back. “we can pretend this didn’t happen later.”

“we don’t have to,” he whispers and you pull away, looking at him wide eyed.

“but we will. i’m not weak.”

carl shakes his head and grabs your hand, “this doesn’t make you weak. it makes you human, and that’s not common feature for people to still have nowadays.”

you scoff out a laugh, “when did you get all wise?” carl laughs back, his gaze is soft, foreign to you. you let a few moments go by, standing there hand in hand. it should be awkward, but for some reason it wasn’t.

you bite your lip before speaking up again, “answer my question.”

carl laughs confusedly, “i think i get it from my dad?” you give him a playful glare and slap his arm,

“not that, stupid.” you go silent again, scared to ruin the fact he’s finally acting normal around you. “why do you act so different with me?” it’s like the air got thicker, in the way it did before when you would bicker, but not with the negative undertones. just tension, a lot. tension you don’t want to name out of embarrassment.

carl licks his lips and glances at yours. “as ridiculous as it sounds…” his face gets closer, “i feel like i can be free with you. let the parts of me that had to be buried out.” his voice turns into a whisper against your lips. “i guess i don’t remember how to do that without acting like such a little shit.”

you both laugh but it doesn’t last long, his hand comes up to your waist causing your breath to hitch. “it got worse when you just,” carl sighs and closes his eye. “became too hard to resist. i was so mad that we were stuck in this frenemy limbo, i made it worse.”

“damn,” you sigh, causing carl to furrow his brow. “you’re very stupid grimes.”

“shut up,” he snaps, pressing his lips against yours. you hum in surprise, but bring your hands up to cup his face. your thumb runs soothingly over his scarred cheek causing him to pull away. “it’s gross, i’m sorry.”

“it’s pretty,” you mumble, pulling him in to kiss him again. he disconnects your lips and shakes his head.

“pretty?”

you roll your eyes, “carl, you’re pretty. your scar is pretty. you’re supposed to be shutting me up right now.” carl blinks and your lips are back on his. you’re more eager this time, impatient. you part your mouth urging him to deepen the kiss. you sigh into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck.

his other hand comes to the other side of your waist, pressing you against the wall. your back thuds against it, eliciting a whimper out of you. “sorry…” he mumbled against your lips. he pulls back a little, eye hooded and gaze trained on your swollen lips. “i like the sounds you make, though.”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader

290 notes · View notes

tripleyeeet · 10 months

Text

WHERE'S YOUR PATIENCE? (7)

SUMMARY: You and Astarion finally have the conversation. Among other things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,912

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, teasing, little bit of hand stuff, vaginal sex, CONSENT IS SEXY, mentions of past sexual/physical trauma, potential spoilers for acts 1/2.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Say thank you to the 2 bottles of Corona and the tequila shot I took to loosen up my brain enough to write this smut. I couldn't have done it without them. (And also my bardic inspiration @imgoingtofreakoutnow)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The weeks following feel like an uphill battle —a never-ending course of constant information and action all tied into one long work month. Without warning, you find yourself overwhelmingly annoyed with the pace of it all. Not to mention the unwavering guilt, knowing that if you’re not fighting hordes of Absolute cultists or doing research on how to rip the Illithid out of your head, your time is essentially wasted.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

Considering the severity of everything, even when you’re resting from a long day's work, you always find your mind wandering. Picking apart texts from old books you’ve found during infiltration missions. Oftentimes late at night when Astarion’s come back from feeding, you spend a lot of your time together relaying said thoughts. Using the late-night silence to fuel the drive that’s been missing throughout the day.

By the time you get to the Inn within the Shadowlands, you’re surprised he’s not sick of you for it. Nowadays, just the mere thought of your own voice makes you want to rip off your ears, and although you know it’s crucial that you discuss things like this, you know there are other things that are important too.

Like your shared confession. And your promise to talk of the past when you were both ready.

Since that night you haven’t asked him about it. With everything happening so quick, it’s been pushed to the back of your mind —lost amongst the clutter of thoughts that you’re often forced to leave behind. Deep down, you imagine he’s somewhat in the same boat but still, there’s even more guilt that surfaces. Filling both sides of the spectrum like an overflowing glass of water —so much so that by the time you’re gifted a proper night’s rest in an actual bed you’re already too tired to care.

As soon as you enter the Inn after your journey through the cursed shadows of the forest you head straight to the bar, barely batting an eye at the barkeep who looks you up and down, horrified by the state of your dress.

“Whiskey, please.”

“And… whatever else you got back there that doesn’t taste of fermentation.”

You turn to see Astarion already standing beside you, moving his hand to the small of your back to usher you into one of the stools. Immediately, you oblige with a sigh, blinking back sleep as you rest your bloodied elbows on the countertop, earning yourself a look of annoyance that Astarion squashes with an unfriendly scowl, showcasing his canine teeth.

If you weren’t so exhausted you probably would’ve laughed at such a sight, but considering you are, you instead let out a soft hum and down your whiskey when it’s placed in front of you, signalling for another.

“I see you’ve already decided how you’re going to spend your night off.”

Nodding your head, you barely register his words, slumping your damp forehead down against the counter with a groan. “How the fuck are we even alive?”

It’s a fair question when you take into account all that you’ve been through. All the puzzles and battles and endless expectations to now save all of Baldur’s Gate just to get these damned Illithids out of your head.

At this rate, you and everyone else should’ve been dead ages ago. Either murdered and looted for your tadpoles and their powers or already turned into tentacle-faced beasts. Not sitting next to Astarion, covered in blood, sweat and tears, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to keep going. How you’re meant to keep this unrealistic momentum of burnout over and over and—

He runs his palm along the base of your spine, drawing his fingers up and down as he takes a sip of his drink. “Hells if I know, darling.”

Feeling a bit delirious, you laugh and raise your head to look between him and the new drink in front of you. “We should’ve been dead by now.”

“You? Perhaps. Me?” He pauses to dig his digits into your aching neck, making your head fall forward again in delight. “Well, I have far too much to do after all of this is over.”

“Yeah, like what?”

When he doesn’t answer right away you remember the conversation. That moment by the fire where you kissed and confessed and told each other you’d talk about it. Immediately it fills you with anxiety, clouding your features with a worried brow and frowning lips as you crane your neck to the side.

When you look at him you notice he’s not really there. His eyes sit in their normal position, staring back but there’s nothing. Not a thought or feeling; just two empty voids surrounded by bloodied dissociation.

It pulls at your heartstrings far too much —makes you let out a breath and raise your frame to slip off the stool and move to hug him. Despite the lack of attention, he manages to follow suit as it happens, wrapping his arms around your neck as you burrow into his chest, once again sighing, wondering if you should apologize and offer your ear or merely forget the exchange entirely.

Before you can even think to do either he’s standing up, keeping his hold as he grabs your other whiskey and proceeds to drink it down, barely batting an eye.

Raising your brow at him, you feel his fingers dig into your neck again, rubbing rough circles that have you resting your forehead against his chest, trying to form any semblance of a thought.

It makes him laugh and raise his hand to your hair, running his fingers through the roots. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You’re already off and climbing the stairs before you’re able to answer. Pushing through the pain that radiates through your calves with every step. Leaning against him with tired eyes that eventually open up when the door creaks open in front you of.

Somehow you managed to earn yourself a private room. One that’s actually clean with a real bed and a tub —all of which almost have you in tears.

“Nice of them to give us some privacy, hm?” Astarion smirks down at you as he speaks, watching as you roll your eyes and finally pull yourself away, reaching for the clasps of your leather vest. Like the rest of you, it’s coated in a thick layer of dirt and blood. All of it dried and coming off in disgusting clumps that have you scrunching up your face. Brushing off the top few clasps, you try not to focus on the way it feels against your fingers. How it collects under your nails as you narrow your eyes, struggling to get the damned thing off.

It makes him scoff and pull you back in, pushing your hands aside to undo the first clasp. “I feel as though I recall a time where you claimed to be patient?”

As he moves down to the next one you shake your head and look away. “Emotionally, yes. Physically I—“

“I’d say you’re far more patient in that regard, actually.”

For a second you’re not sure what he means but then it hits you. He means sex. Physical intimacy. A line of which you hadn’t yet crossed due to several things. The main being your lack of conversation —your lack of focus to a promise you both said you wouldn't break.

Obviously, the lack of time hasn’t helped either, but as you stand there, watching his fingers pull apart your top layer, you find yourself visibly frustrated. Angry at yourself for not taking the time to offer the piece of yourself you desperately want.

After that night it was always your intention to go first. To tell him all about your past in order to open the floodgates. You figured if you were brave enough to do it —to be the one to bite the bullet— maybe he’d inevitably follow.

But then life got in the way and now nearly five weeks later it suddenly feels like you’re stuck in this limbo. One where you’re dancing on the edge, teetering with bated breath. Wondering if maybe the time is right.

As his hands move further and further you find yourself fighting your imagination. Brushing off the feelings that start to surface as you stare down at his hands, watching their delicate ministrations.

It’s apparent then that he's no stranger to the art of undress. As his fingers twist and turn to work the clasps apart, you have to stop yourself from giving in to temptation, knowing that it’s wrong. Remembering the promise you made.

Moving your hand to stop him, you clear your throat and watch his eyes. Noticing the way they filter through the air to eventually focus on you, blinking as if he wasn’t there to begin with.

“Can we talk now? Maybe?”

His hands sit against your leathers, gripping the metal with tightened fingers that still somehow manage to pale from their hold despite his complexion. “Course.”

Running your fingers along his knuckles, you slowly wrap your fists around them, bringing them up toward your mouth to place soft kisses despite the mess of battle that lingers. Then you drag him further into the room, placing him on the edge of the bed.

“Do you know who Beshaba is?” you ask, plain and simple, unsure how else to start the conversation of your past as you sit beside him.

“The deity?”

You nod, slowly, letting your gaze anxiously fall to your lap. “I grew up in one of her churches after my parents died. Learned everything I know about the world from a priestess named Hessa.”

As you try your best to further collect your thoughts, Astarion leans in, narrowing his eyes at the way your hands start to shake against your thigh.

“Is she the one in your dream?” he asks.

Without hesitation, you nod. “They thrive on infliction,” you explain after, watching him frown. Taking in the way his demeanour changes without warning to become something you’re not quite sure you've seen before. “Their doctrine revolves around fear. If you don’t participate you’re expected to endure only pain and misfortune.”

You remember growing up underneath all these women, listening to their cautionary tales of Beshaba’s terror. It instilled fear in you from the get-go —taught you that the only way to endure the horrors of this life was to devote yourself to her. To offer everything you could in exchange for peace, so you did. Unwaveringly so.

“As a child, I grew up listening to these women scare everyone for the sake of their goddess.” You pause to swallow, feeling the memories of Hessa’s knife each time you later disobeyed, slice across your skin. “Then, as an adult, I followed the cycle.”

“Willingly?”

You shrug your shoulders. “At first.”

You remember as soon as you were old enough you were sent out to recruit. To trick the minds of all the simple folk, weaving fabricated tales of disasters that were carried out by Beshaba’s hand. It was difficult to do. Seeing all those ruined minds come crawling to you for salvation —begging for forgiveness in the form of eternal loyalty.

Thankfully though, it grew old pretty quickly. The formula of travelling Faerûn, following the endless calamity and blaming it on the lack of faith was enough to pull you out of the fog. As each day passed, it became increasingly hard to pretend your faith was still intact, so you formulated a plan.

“When we arrived in Baldur’s Gate I tried to leave. In the middle of the night I abandoned my sisters —tried to run and never look back but…”

There’s a moment where your mouth just closes, trailing from the memories of your story; straying solely to the image of Hessa. To her hands and face each time she broke you apart and put you back together.

Without even trying you can feel her next to you, whispering her teachings in your ear —touching your scars with calloused hands. Her voice still has that icy hold on you even when you’re far away, keeping you still as she forces you down to kneel on the stone floor and await your punishment.

A punishment you’ll always feel you deserve. Even now that you’ve well and truly denounced the faith. Deep down you still feel the guilt of your exit. The pain of having to carry the trauma of an existence you never had the choice of living. To this day, it still eats away through the scars that line your stomach. Boring lines of betrayal across your skin.

The last thing you want to do is cry, but as the reminder of such abuse continues to penetrate your mind you find the tears falling anyway. Collecting at the edges of your eyes so quickly that you’re forced to close them in order to reset your vision.

As you do you feel Astarion wrapping himself completely around you. Pulling you into his chest with heavy hands that feel nothing like hers. Reminding you that you’re safe. That you’re here with him and nobody else.

“Is this wretched woman still stationed in Baldur’s?”

You feel his fingers on your chin, pulling your face up so that he can see you when you nod, holding back tears.

“Good. Then our destinations align.”

His voice sounds different. Instead of the usual softness or flirtation, it’s spoken through clenched teeth that strain against his throat, somehow feeling almost like a threat. An unspoken but well-articulated phrase of warning that has you sniffing and wiping your eyes. “What do you mean?”

At first, you figure he’s talking about the Illithid. The urgent need to get to Baldur’s Gate before time runs out. But then you’re ripped back to reality —to the moments where he’s briefly mentioned his desire to return home. To finish whatever business he has after this timely journey is over.

“The person who sent the hunter—“

He practically spits out his name. Cazador Szarr. A man you’re unfortunately well aware of given his reputation.

After arriving in Baldur’s Gate it was common knowledge to avoid him and his property. As awful as your church was about promoting the misfortunes of others, they made it very clear not to get involved. According to them, he was an unholy man —one that could never fully be understood due to the obvious seclusion of his person.

To this day, you've always wondered what lies behind those doors of his. What sinister things he was up to throughout the years.

However, when you look at Astarion —when you see the way his rage suddenly seems to know no bounds, you know it’s bad. Worse than bad considering Astarion hardly ever gets angry. Sure, annoyance and frustration often come out but anger —real anger— never does.

“When you told me that you wished I didn’t know what it felt like, I didn’t realize how similar our experiences were.” His fingers rub rough circles into your flesh, distracting his mind as he lets out a breath and continues. “I didn’t know the level of your pain.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I know.”

His voice cracks. Your heart breaks. Then, both of you sit in another wave of silence, letting the words previously spoken sit at your feet as you stare at one another, trying to gauge what happens next.

You don’t anticipate his hands moving to his armour. Nor do you retain any sense of restraint when you reach to follow them, both of you working to pry it off before he pulls his tunic over his head.

Despite being on the road together for so long you’ve never seen him bare like this. So open and willing to prove to you that he's here. With you, here’s here and ready to share whatever you think you need.

Embarrassingly, it makes you want to cry all over again, reaching for his face. Feeling that familiar coolness beneath your touch as he turns to rest both hands on your hips again.

“It’s been so long since I’ve willingly wanted this.”

“This?” You look at him confused.

“To be intimate.” His fingers tighten around your flesh, digging into the plush ever so slightly. “To share the act of sex with another rather than exploit it.”

There’s a small smile that creeps through then. An inkling of hope for the vampire’s happiness as you inch in closer, placing the softest kiss you can muster to his cheek. “But you’re nervous?”

“Terribly,” he admits with a heavy breath. “In the span of 200 years I’ve bed countless men and women —all of them willing. All of them happy to have enjoyed my body only to end up at death’s door.”

It’s a lot to take in —the admittance of his faults. As soon as the first detail is uttered it’s as if the floodgates open and he’s telling you everything. From the moment he was turned and forced to crawl from his grave to the years that followed luring person after person into the Szarr home for a master so cruel you immediately wish to kill him.

“I spent so long under that bastard’s thumb that… I don’t even know who I am anymore. How I’m meant to be now that I’ve attained even the slightest bit of freedom.”

You understand how he feels. Perhaps the levels are different but deep within there’s always been this nagging feeling of how you’re supposed to live your life. How you feel as though you should be travelling the world in search of a new purpose rather than once again fulfilling someone else’s.

But then you remember what’s at stake. And how even someone else’s fate can affect your livelihood. Then it’s as if the cycle repeats itself, constantly reminding you that if you don’t participate then that’s the end. Your freedom is null just as Astarion’s, leaving you to wonder what’s the point of it all.

“I think people like you and I are just meant to live.” Your hands move up to touch his hair. Carefully, you grip his curls between your fingers, pressing the pads into his skull as you run them down, hearing him sigh. “To enjoy what little time we have.”

“Little?” He raises his brow with a smirk. “Darling, I’m immortal.”

“True but you could still become a Mind-flayer like the rest of us.”

“Fair point.”

He seems calmer now. The usual persona of his overbearing personality coming through, making you grin.

Instead of tightly wound he’s relaxed under your hold, practically melting against your touch as he lowers himself to rest on your shoulder. As he does, you end up catching a glimpse of his back, fully seeing Cazador’s work in the form of rough, red etchings that coat his entire spine.

You have to force yourself not to ask about them until he’s ready, tightening the hold you have around his head as you riddle his face in kisses, letting your lips linger against his temple as you close your eyes.

“They’re not as bad as they look,” he says then, somehow reading your mind.

As painful as it is to admit, you know he’s right. Compared to other scars you’ve seen his look undeniably perfect. The way they paint the image of what looks to be some sort of sigil against his pale flesh. Despite the violence endured to create such a piece, it’s obvious that there was care put in too. A meticulous hand working away with the precision of someone borderline obsessed.

If it wasn’t the result of abuse you could even call it beautiful. But since it’s not, you only continue to hold him, gripping his face for dear life, wondering what kind of pain he had to suffer to earn such a massive reminder of his ownership.

“Do you know what it is?”

He lifts his head, looking at you like he’s seeking the answer himself. “A brand I’m guessing. Not that I can tell. Unlike you I can’t use a mirror. Nor can I very well reach to trace the damned thing myself.”

Your fingers twitch at his words, feeling the temptation to touch them grow as you remember your own scars. In terms of appearance, they’re much more rigid. Three jagged lines that cover the middle of your stomach, making sure you remember. Ensuring your mind that every day you live on this earth —every new moment spent thinking that you’re worthy of whatever this is between you— that you’ll never be normal.

The moment they dug that first knife into your gut you were marked for life. Branded just like him.

Swallowing hard you force yourself to slip away from his grasp, watching the confusion that erupts before the understanding starts as you shakily discard your leather layer and throw your tunic over your head.

It takes everything in you not to put it back on when you see the look on Astarion’s face. How it studies you with knitted brows and a clenched jaw that makes you want to hold him again.

“Mine are just… lines. They don’t mean anything.” As you motion to the thick slashes that have been carved over countless times you catch his gaze twitching upward, taking in the exhaustion.

“She did this?”

After you nod you feel his hand move forward, ever so gently grazing the top of the centre line with curiosity. “How many times?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember how it felt?”

You press your lips together, breathing through your nose. Sucking in the Inn’s dusty air before blowing it out as you nod, forcing back the memory. Pushing through the pain as your tadpole squirms, asking to let him in.

Like all the other feelings you’ve shared as of late, it’s been so long since you’ve felt his presence like this. Even with the Illithid’s constant use outside of each other, when he calls out to you it’s completely different. The movement behind your eye doesn’t feel like an annoyance. It feels like a call. A tingle of hope that has you answering before you can even question what it is he might want.

When you answer there’s a warmth that hits your skin. Enveloping you completely, you feel the aching of the heat carry through your extremities, cascading down in anxious pools that have you breathing rather hard. Closing your eyes, you see the image of Astarion’s hands in front of you. Slowly he wiggles his fingers and turns his palms, taking in the fact that he’s safely under the sun, despite what he is.

You realize then that this is the first memory he has of freedom. Of a life where he truly believes the tether’s been severed. All the thoughts inside his mind are full of nerves. Building anxieties of the past and the future being interrupted by a present he never thought was possible.

It’s a memory that stirs you to move. To guide his hands to your waist as you crawl into his lap and grab his chin.

Touching his skin you feel that same warmth flow through to your core. Letting it take over all the thoughts of scarring and owners and the lives you’ve both lived to get to this point, it takes away your breath. Pulls from you the needs of anything but him.

In this moment, none of it matters anymore. Every experience is nothing more than a dimming shadow compared to the sensation of his breath wafting over your face as you angle your head down to look at him.

“Do you want this?”

His tongue darts out to line his lips. His hunger growing at the sight of you —at the feeling of you moulded to him like melting wax just cool enough to touch. “Yes.”

“So it’s okay if I—“

There’s a hand in your hair before you can finish, forcing you down to his mouth. It’s rough at first but quickly softens once he’s got you where he wants you. Firmly set atop his thighs and in his grasp. Allowing him enough access to reach up and touch the edge of your neck, his thumb lingering towards the centre to press a soft touch —reminding you that you have to breathe. That the usage of your lungs is no longer second nature but something you actively have to think about through the open-mouthed kisses that work to take it all away.

Your head dizzies at the feeling. All at once your vision blurs while your hands begin to roam, stretching over skin and bone, eventually hitting raised scars that make you kiss him even harder, knowing it’s what he needs. What he deserves after countless years of loveless encounters. After touches, empty of anything resembling the adoration you wish to offer him.

While laying waste to his bruising lips, you clumsily slide down his lap so that you’re standing on the ground, tucked between his open legs and bending forward.

Confused, you feel his face twist against your own, prompting you to pull away and lower yourself further, letting your knees gently come in contact with the floor.

“I was enjoying you where you were,” he muses then, cocking his head to focus on the way your hands begin to slide up over his knees, resting on each outer thigh.

“And now you’ll enjoy me over here.” You smirk.

“Cheeky pup.”

“The cheekiest.”

After that, you shuffle closer and reach for his belt, keeping eye contact every step of the way to make sure you aren’t stepping over any boundaries.

The last thing you’d want is to make him feel uncomfortable —to feel used in all the ways he used to experience. So you combat all that by checking in; offering him subtle glances every time you take the next step.

You can tell immediately that he’s appreciative. Whenever he nods there’s a faint smile that sits across his lips, offering you approval as your fingers knock against the metal clasp of his belt, shakily moving to open it up.

At some point he ends up doing it himself, leaning forward to kiss your forehead and laugh at the nerves that render your fingers useless. Nerves that only spread when you stare up at his face while his hands busily move the strap aside.

After tossing his belt aside he doesn’t let you go further. Instead, he drags you further between his legs, leaning down to cup your cheeks and kiss you all over again.

It’s distracting, to say the least. The feeling of his lips moving in tandem with your own as he reaches around to rid you of your bra with two quick swipes, leaving you just as bare as him.

It sends a shiver down your spine that makes him smirk, his upper lip quirking against yours before he gently bites down making you groan.

“Can’t let you be the only one with a view,” he mutters against you, making you awkwardly laugh as you watch his gaze lower to your naked chest. “Can I, pet?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Your voice sounds anything but confident as his hands continue their descent, matching your previous desires when they linger at your belt, waiting for you to give him the okay.

When you do he makes quick work, unclasping the belt with skillful hands before lightly smacking your ass, signalling you to stand before he carefully slides the rest of it down, thumbing the edges of your legs.

You have to force yourself not to cry out right then and there, feeling overwhelmed by the soft touch of his fingers. How they barely graze the outer parts of your already parting thighs, stopping at your knees when he looks up at you with a smirk.

“You seem nervous, darling.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove an open palm to his chest, pushing him back against the bed with a scoff. One that makes him laugh and watch as you kick off the remainder of the fabric, trying to appear brave. Something that proves to be harder than you anticipate when he swiftly follows suit, giving you a show of your own in the form of freshly exposed skin you’ve only ever imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.

In almost an instant, the fabric slips away, revealing more of him than you possibly could’ve expected, making your mind wander as the building arousal between your thighs twitches with desire. Telling you that you need this.

You open your mouth to ask for more only to be yanked upon his lap causing a yelp to fall from your lips that makes you both laugh.

“You really are a marvel, aren’t you?”

With a smile, his eyes scan your naked frame. Up and down and back, they linger at every part as if he’s studying you for future use. Taking mental notes with each passing freckle or scar that lines the length of bare skin. “I mean truly, look at you.”

As he speaks, one hand runs along your neck —over your shoulder and down your arm until it’s resting at your thigh, gripping you tight. “I’m not sure what God out there decided to make you but remind me to give them my utmost thanks after this is over.”

When he leans in you have to force yourself not to nervously laugh at his praise, once again feeling his lips find refuge on your own, driving you to take things further. Encouraging you to make him feel as good as he deserves.

This time though, instead of asking for approval with a glance you do so with a touch, reaching down to grip the end of his length with gentle hands that make him moan. Ever so quietly, the second you hear it you immediately strengthen your hold, using your free hand to grip his shoulder as you work him slowly, noticing him push. Feeling the subtle arc of his hips buck against your hand, wanting more.

For a moment you think about doing it. Letting your hand tighten further while you pick up the pace. It’d be easy. Nothing more than a simple readjustment but something mischievous stops you from doing it.

Remembering that night at the grove —the one where he relentlessly teased just to get a rise out of you— you find yourself smirking and pulling away, gripping his shoulder even tighter to keep him in place.

Almost immediately, he knows exactly what you’re doing. He can feel it in the way you languidly pull at his cock, barely holding on with each stroke.

“You think you’re clever, do you?”

You quirk your brow and bite your lip, massaging the apex of his shoulder. “I have to be if I’m going to be hanging around you.”

Furthering his torment, you then tighten your grip for a couple more pumps before returning to your previous pace, eliciting a hiss of disapproval that has him gripping both your hips and maneuvering you to sit against his right thigh.

“Oh really?”

Pushing up into your core, Astarion shifts you back and forth with his hands, making your breath catch inside your throat once you realize what you’ve done. How you’ve instantly set yourself up for a failure you know he’ll only revel in winning.

Considering he’s more than capable of making you fluster solely with words, you should’ve expected this —saw it coming from a mile away.

Continuing your ministrations as lazily as possible, he barely registers them as he glides your folds against his leg. Holding you down, he manages to apply the perfect amount of pressure to build the tension, making you press your lips tightly together, forcing back any sound that might be deemed a loss.

Even though it’s anything but a competition. A detail that’s reminded once he maneuvers one of his hands to cup your sex, rubbing rough circles into your clit.

It makes you lose all semblance of thought, forgetting the hold you have on his cock as you shakily reach for his other shoulder, steadying yourself against him.

“Doesn’t it feel nice when you give in?”

Despite the context, there’s surprisingly no snark to his words. No sarcasm or bite —just genuine thought. A question so true to its word that all you can do is pant through the building pleasure and nod; letting him raise you off his leg and station himself at your entrance.

It fills your mind to the brim with needs and wants you never thought you’d feel again. Having been subjected to abuse and then forced upon a journey you’re still not sure you’re ready for, the thought of attachments like this never once crossed your mind.

Even after everything you’d been through, you never thought Astarion was capable of such tenderness —of loving care and safekeeping. Of gentle touches that run across your aching skin as he looks at you and you at him, both of you deciding it’s okay.

As soon as it’s given, he’s sliding into you. Painfully slow, he uses the approval to grant you access to your shared pleasure, pushing through the tightness just as you open your mouth.

“Feel alright?”

Your fingers press against his neck as they slide up to cup his chin so you can pull your foreheads together. “More than alright.”

Through an unsteady breath, he laughs and guides you further down, allowing you both to savour the sensation for a moment before pulling back out again.

As soon as he’s missing you’re already longing for more. Desperate for the fill of his cock, prompting a whine to escape; earning yourself a tut.

“Remember patience?”

You do. More than anything in this moment you remember your claim and how foolish it was to think he wouldn’t forget it.

“I recall you saying—"

“Astarion, please.”

You’re not sure if it’s the anguish in your voice or the squirming of your hips that does it, but almost instantly he’s giving in. Once again offering you exactly what you need in the form of a push and pull so viscerally satisfying you’re left slumped against his chest, keeping hold of his neck. Forcing his hand to grip the back of your head to see the way he ruts inside of you.

It’s a sight that’s almost too much. One that makes you moan and close your eyes, allowing him to move your face to his. At which point you’re on the precipice of ruin. Both body and mind becoming a mess of everything and nothing, forcing your breath to falter.

You can tell Astarion’s in the same boat, struggling to maintain his starting pace the longer you mindlessly grind against him, unable to contribute much of anything else.

Together, the two of you try to move in unison, pushing and pushing —inhaling and exhaling. Anything you can do to share the burden of the building pleasure that grows and grows until—

When it hits, it feels better than you imagined. Deep within there’s a blooming that unfolds, petal by petal, opening to reveal unholy tremors that make you release a heavy plume of air through your closed lips.

Gripping you close, you can feel Astarion follow quickly behind, twitching inside before he inevitably spills out, making both of you groan and fall back onto the bed in a fit of nervous laughter before he cheekily suggests you make use of the tub.

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi

(If you'd like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form. Also, if your name isn't on here and it should be I couldn't tag you so message me and I'll try again next time!)

#where's your patience?#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

1K notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 1 month

Text

Maybe in another life - Lewis Hamilton

Part 2 is here: When I get to meet you

Alternative part 2: I'd like to believe

request: "hello can do heavy angst? ... lewis faces the consequences of his stupid actions? like he grovels a lot and suffer a lot. just ripped my heart open with your writing i dont care 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: Blood, Miscarriage, Asshole Lewis

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Angsty anon, that was a hard one to write. I changed the request a bit, hope it's okay. I just really don't picture him cheating with someone so close to someone he loves, specially since his relationships are very open (as of now, anyway), the rest is still there.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

TRIGGERING CONTENT UNDER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

The white of the hotel room walls seemed to closed in on Lewis as he reread the final line of the letter. "I needed you to know." Y/n's words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the roar of the city outside. Every muscle in his body tensed. It couldn't be true. He reread the entire thing, a cold dread settling in his stomach with every sentence.

The letter started with a casualness that ripped at him further. It was a stark reminder of the way they started – a fling fueled by adrenaline and an undeniable connection.

Then came the bombshell. The night she stormed into his Monaco apartment, the one he'd dismissed with a callous "call me later," wasn't just about a fight. It was about a child. Their child. Shame, hot and acrid, burned in his throat. He'd been a fool, blinded by fleeting pleasure, while she carried the weight of the future alone. Their future.

Tears pricked at Lewis's eyes as he read about her decision to keep it, to raise a mini-him, a mini-her, even without him. A part of him swelled with pride, a terrible, conflicting emotion considering how things ended.

The next part though, stole his breath, and even in the second read was still hard to stomach.

He learned about the miscarriage, the brutal way it unfolded – a sharp pain waking her in the quiet of the night, the rush to the bathroom, the crimson staining everything. The helplessness, the loneliness of it all. He should have been there. He should have held her hand, whispered reassurances. But all he'd offered was a dismissive phone call, months before.

Y/n's words about wishing he was by her side echoed in his mind, a constant refrain. The regret, raw and searing, threatened to consume him. He pictured her, alone, grieving a child they both would've never meet.

The letter continued. She spoke of the physical and emotional toll, the weeks that followed, a blur of doctor visits and a silence so deafening it screamed louder than any argument. She told him about leaving F1, needing a clean break from the world that constantly reminded her of what could have been.

The final paragraphs struck him with a force that left him reeling. "Maybe in another life, Lewis.” Another life. A life where he wasn't a self-absorbed champion, where he saw the woman behind the reporter, where he understood the depth of the love she carried, in her heart, and even for a few months in her womb.

Lewis crumpled the letter in his fist, the weight of his mistakes crushing him. The roar of the city outside mocked him, a reminder of the life that went on regardless of his private turmoil. He wanted to call her, to apologize, to somehow bridge the chasm he'd created. But the letter offered no contact information, and the knowledge that it might be too late settling heavy in his mind.

He sank onto the plush hotel bed, the opulence offering no comfort. He was a champion, a winner, and yet he'd lost the most important race of his life – the one for a future he’d thrown away in a haze of selfishness.

Now, all that remained were the ghosts of what could have been, a forever reminder of the price of his arrogance.

_________________________________________________________

Hi Lewis,

I don't want to blame you for any of what I'm about to tell you.

Our story wasn't exactly a fairytale romance, and I knew full well the kind of life you led when we started seeing each other. But somewhere along the line, things started to feel different. Maybe it was the late-night talks after Monaco, or the way you looked at me after a win, a genuine joy that went beyond the cameras.

Whatever it was, I fell for you, harder than I ever thought possible.

That night in Monaco, when I walked into your apartment, the smell of something I shouldn't have smelled. Then I saw the girls, the half-empty bottles, the porno on repeat. I was disappointed.

But deeper than that, I was scared, so damn scared. I needed to talk to you, Lewis, not just about the obvious, but about something more, something monumental.

See, the reason I was there, the reason my voice was shaky and my eyes probably held a storm you couldn't understand, was because I was pregnant, we were.

We were going to have a baby, Lewis. A tiny little person, half you, half me.

The thought had terrified me at first, the responsibility, the unknown. But then, this strange sense of calm. Maybe I could do this. We could do this.

I'm not gonna lie, I thought about ending it, the pregnancy. And that night made the doubt so much greater.

I need you to know I called the abortion clinic. Twice. I even scheduled a date. But I couldn't do it.

Turns out the universe had other plans.

It was still early, barely into the fourth month, but I swear I could already see a hint of a bump. Just the tiniest swell beneath my usual clothes, a secret I carried close.

I imagined late nights with a fussy baby, the smell of milk instead of the usual post-race adrenaline.

I pictured you, maybe not holding the baby because you were off winning another championship, but calling, checking in, a flicker of pride in your voice.

Naive, I know.

For a couple of days, there was just a feeling, a vague unease that settled low . Like a distant echo of discomfort, easily dismissed with a deep breath and a glass of water. But then, the backache started. A dull ache that settled and radiated outwards. It felt familiar, a dull echo almost like cramps, but different somehow. Deeper, more insistent.

The night it happened, I woke up with a sharp pain ripping through me, from the inside out. It stole my breath away, leaving me gasping for air. Panic clawed at my throat as I scrambled out of bed, a cold dread pooling in my stomach. I didn't make it to the bathroom in time, the crimson stained my clothes, the bedsheets, the mattress.

The smell of blood clung to everything in that bedroom for weeks.

The doctor confirmed it in the emergency, a hollow echo in a sterile room. I had a curettage to get the rest of tissue out.

The weeks that followed were a blur. Doctor visits, tests, a crushing silence that spoke louder than any argument we ever had. The grief was a physical weight, a constant ache in my chest.

I also need you to know that through it all, I mourned the life I couldn't carry to term, the tiny flicker of hope that had bloomed within me and that I couldn't keep safe.

That's on me, and I take full responsability.

I couldn't handle F1 after that. The constant reminder of what could have been, it was suffocating. And leaving was an incredibly hard decision, but I needed that. I had to move on.

Maybe in another life, Lewis. Maybe then things would have been different.

Maybe, I would have told you about the day our child started school, all jitters and excitement, a backpack bigger than their little body. Or maybe I would have been showing you their first wobbly steps, a mess of giggles and misplaced feet, a tiny us with ours eyes.

A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind.

This isn't a plea for a response. I don't even know if you'll read this all the way through. Maybe you'll crumple it up and toss it aside. God, maybe I hope you do. But I needed you to know.

- Y/n

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine

302 notes · View notes

dabisqueen · 2 years

Text

Virgin Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, creampie, overstimulation || Header by me (edit of a manga panel) || biggest shoutout to @/crumbly-scrombly for co-writing this with me

Virgin Dabi

He will try his hardest, literally his absolute hardest to not cum immediately, but he will as soon as his thick spongy tip breaches the entrance of your tight cunt.

His fat cock will unmistakably twitch and throb, shooting thick creamy cum inside of you.

A shudder will run up his spine, a broken groan spilling from his parted gnarled lips as his eyes flutter shut.

And he'll breathe hard, letting out a choked, throaty "Oh fuck—"

If you move against him, slow and sensually, he will try his best to keep it down but literally cannot help himself — your name will be on his lips with every roll of your hips.

Will get all defensive when you start giggling "That good, huh?” and huff in annoyance, averting his gaze, a cute blush spreading across his cheeks.

He doesn’t have much feeling in the rest of his body so this new sensation of orgasmic bliss is literally out of this world for him.

After he cums, he'll stay inside you until he gets hard again, cause it's so comfy and soft in there.

He'll hold you in place and secretly enjoys the intimacy and closeness. Just don’t point that out, he doesn’t want his mask to slip too far (yet) - so he'll pretend to just want cockwarming.

His big cock won't be soft for long, it’ll grow rock hard in no time, especially if you keep praising, complimenting him. It's what fuels his ego - and his cock.

Then RIP, cause he's not gonna stop until you've cummed multiple times. Because in his mind he has to outdo any competition and make you feel the best any guy has ever made - he wants to be the only one in the world for you.

When his balls are drained, he literally passes out on top of you. He’s so blissed out and if you tell him how well he’s done you might be rewarded with the softest of smiles you've ever seen on his face.

Virgin Shigaraki

He's rough and doesn't care, because that man has no shame, and also no patience. He's got the “all or nothing” mindset – so you better prepare for a rough ride.

He also doesn’t really know how to be gentle? At least not at first, that man still has a lot to learn about love and sex and all that. He wants to make you feel good in the only way he knows how.

Just sheathes himself into you without warning and cums on the spot.

His fat cock will be twitching hard while shooting his load.

But you won't notice, too blissed out by the feeling of being impaled on him, struggling to hold back your own orgasm.

Won't admit he just came either, even though you feel his hot cum dripping down your ass.

He'll stay rock hard and start pumping his cock inside of you, cheeks bright red, ignoring the feeling of getting overstimulated because it means he gets a few more precious moments like this with you.

Eyes screwed shut, his head leans against yours, blissfully enjoying this sweet torture he’s putting himself through.

He'll have you screaming and moaning in no time while he assaults your tight cunt with his fat gamer cock.

His pleasure is first and foremost at this stage of the relationship. However, if you’re really begging and writing he’ll switch positions to make it a little easier on you. He wants to keep fucking you afterall, and it’s better if you want it too.

Won't stop until you've squirted on his cock at least a couple of times.

Because he secretly adores you so much, just doesn’t know how to appropriately show it yet.

6K notes · View notes

hotmentransformed · 3 months

Text

Hollywood Magic

In the bustling backstage of the prestigious Oscars ceremony, nerves were running high. Among the frenzy of stagehands, makeup artists, and celebrities, stood Alex, a wide-eyed production assistant fresh out of film school. It was his first gig at such a grand event, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had bought a fresh tuxedo for the event and felt professional and ready to start his new career.

Throughout the evening, Alex darted from one task to another, ensuring everything ran like clockwork. He meticulously checked seating arrangements, coordinated with the stage crew, and even fetched coffee for the stars. Despite the chaos around him, Alex felt a surge of exhilaration with each passing moment, relishing the special opportunity to be a part of Hollywood's biggest night.

But as the ceremony progressed smoothly, tension began to mount backstage when one of the scheduled presenters failed to show up for their award presentation. Panic swept through the crowded corridors as frantic whispers filled the air. Producers frantically made calls to find a replacement, but everyone was either unavailable or unwilling to present. With no one else available at such short notice, all eyes turned to Alex.

Without warning, an envelope was thrust into his hands, and he was ushered onto the stage. His heart raced as he realized the gravity of the situation. This was his moment—a chance to step onto the grand stage of the Oscars and make his mark in the entertainment industry. Usually, the honor was only reserved for the most iconic of stars: how lucky he was to be just an average Joe, given an opportunity rarely afforded to even some of the most famous celebrities. As Alex approached the microphone, the weight of the moment bore down on him like a heavy cloak. The sea of faces in the audience blurred as his nerves threatened to overwhelm him.

Alex's heart pounded in his chest as he felt an inexplicable surge of warmth coursing through his body. At first, he thought it must be from the stage lights, but it grew stronger and more electrifying. It started as a subtle tingling but soon evolved into an intense sensation, like a thousand needles pricking his skin.

His muscles tensed and bulged beneath his clothes, a strange pressure building within him. Alex's eyes widened in shock as he felt the fabric of his brand-new suit strain against his expanding frame. The audience's murmurs of anticipation turned into gasps of surprise as they witnessed the spectacle unfolding before them. First, it was his arms, as if sculpted from marble, that began to swell with newfound strength. His biceps and triceps rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt, stretching it to its limits, and eventually ripping his sleeves. Then, his chest expanded, pushing against the material as if eager to break free. Each breath seemed to inflate his torso further, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

As Alex's transformation continued, his shoulders broadened, each muscle defined with chiseled precision. His back rippled with power, the fabric of his shirt straining against the force of his expanding physique. Even his legs, once hidden beneath his trousers, began to bulge with raw strength, threatening to burst through the fabric at any moment.

Despite his best efforts to resist, Alex couldn't help but flex his muscles, which expanded and tore free from the confines of his shirt and jacket, a mixture of embarrassment and pride washing over him as he unwittingly showed off his newfound form to the world. The audience's laughter only fueled his humiliation, but still, he couldn't stop himself.

With each involuntary flex, Alex's body seemed to take on a life of its own, moving with a grace and power that he had never known. His embarrassment gave way to a sense of awe as he marveled at the sheer magnitude of his transformation. But just as he began to revel in his newfound strength, disaster struck. With a sudden rip, the fabric of his pants gave way, leaving him standing on stage in the nude. His cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment as he hastily covered himself with the envelope he had been given to present the award.

Standing there dumbfounded and twice his previous size, he heard an announcer on the speakers: “And now, presenting the Academy Award for Best Costume Design, the one, the only: John Cena!”

#male tf #transformation #tf #transform #male transformation #muscle transformation #muscle tf #celebrity #celebrity tf #celeb tf

273 notes · View notes

diejager · 3 months

Note

hi so big fan :D, im terribly obsessed with literally all of your cod fics but oh my god stepdad könig + horangi drives me nuts-

just wanted to throw an idea in your brain because i cant stop thinking about it but imagine if reader used to go braless around the house (because its just her n mom) but after the introduction of 2 new unfamiliar guys in the house she puts on a bra when she leaves her room (but she also forgets sometimes and they call her a tease for it)

With time however, with all the fucking and the constant attention horangi and könig have been giving her nipples, theyre so fucking sensitive she like shudders when they scrape on surfaces on accident (ex. the edge of a table, fabric of her clothes) so she starts wearing a bra all the time to stop that from happening but könig and horangi don't like that so they take ALL her bras-

oh also another idea that popped up but what if reader who usually dresses rather tomboyish/masc also occasionally enjoys wearing very fem/provocative outfits. BUT könig and horangi have only ever seen reader wear masc outfits since theyve known each other. reader still wears her fem outfits but now she wears it under a bulky jacket and baggy jeans and changes out of it in uni/public toilet.

so like one day horangi is out and has to do a double take on reader out in public because they dont recognize them in their outfit (ex. a form-fitting sundress or a mini skirt with sheer tights and cute leg warmers) and he remembers reader leaving the house in something else. fuck i just know könig and horangi are going to get SOOOO many ideas on how to punish reader for that.

any ways thats it from me love ya <3

Hii, I looked at your illustrations and I LOVE them, they’re all so clean and nice.

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, smut, size kink, possessive behaviour, delusional, tell me if I missed any.

König used to enjoy stripping you, the act of ripping your bra off and watch your breasts sway from his rough treatment. There was something empowering to it, a show of dominance and possession over you when he could strip you naked under him or watch Horangi straddle you and pull your shirt and bra off, sliding your panties down your thighs. He found pleasure in doing so when you walked around in baggy clothes, hiding your shape and curves from his hungry eyes, it was like unwrapping a long-awaited present that he’d been teased with for so, so long.

If he was especially lucky, he’d find you without a bra, your perky nipples pressing against his chest or peaking under your shirt, two small and hard nubs that tempted him with the prospect of something sweet to bite and suck. He liked admiring them, all swollen and slick with his or Horangi’s saliva, spitting or letting drool fall on your tits while they fucked you, marking your sensitive skin with the indentation of their teeth and dark splotches all across your chest. You always whined about it hurting, pushing them away with frail arms, fighting with weak hits and slow kicks. What you thought would be a deterrent, was fuel to their growing hunger, they were men who liked the fight, the struggle, a prey that wouldn’t fall too easily.

But now, he was growing annoyed that you always wore a bra, like an incessant pest that slowed him down from getting to his prize, even Horangi had complained about it and how intricate your choice of bra straps you bought, all the complicated knots and crosses that made their job much harder than it should when they were pleasuring you. How could you make it so difficult for them? They always made you come, their thick girth splitting you in half and filling you in hot and bitter cum. They tried talking you out of wearing bras, but in your rebellious phase, you glared and ignored their words. There wasn’t much they could do to convince you to stop wearing them, there wasn’t truly anything they could hold against you. So they took them away, making you ask for them if you wanted to wear one and it had to be reasonable.

It seemed that you didn’t like their decision, coming to them for a bra every two day to go out, it left them watching you walk out the door in nothing but jeans, a shirt under your jacket, headphones holding your cap down and a backpack slung over your shoulder, hanging low on your back. It irked him that you always hid your beautiful body, something you should be proud of showing off, but perhaps it was to keep your body for themselves, to dance and writhe in your nude for them only, a treasure that only König and Horangi were privy to. He figured it was something he should be proud of.

Then Horangi told him how he found you in a short skirt and a shirt that rode up your abdomen and showed your pretty bra if you raised your arms, the soft jacket you left home slung around your shoulders, dipping low enough to show your back, but your jeans, shirt and cap were gone, stuffed in the now-filled bag. König couldn’t help but mimic the deep sneer on Horangi’s face, teeth tearing into his lip at your audacity of wearing such promiscuous attire for the world to see and hiding yourself from them. It made them wrathful, a deep-seated anger and envy that boiled until you got home, changed into the same baggy clothes you left with. This warranted a punishment, to teach you a lesson about lying to them and holding out on them.

“Come here, du scheiß Gör,” König growled, glaring at your shuddering figure. [you fucking brat.]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

197 notes · View notes

rogersideup · 3 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 6

Little Birdie

Series masterlist

Previous part: Rearview next part: Twinkles

Word Count: 7,800

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

One week.

Steve made it one whole week without you.

It was one of the longest weeks of his life.

Every day for seven days straight he needed Bucky to convince him not to text or call you. That conversation usually happened as Steve paced around his living room, while Bucky sat on his couch, threatening to get up and rip the phone out of his hands.

He couldn't even text you outside of work hours considering you blocked his number from being able to do so, but that still didn't stop the itch he felt to just see your name on his phone screen again.

Both boys were in agreement that Steve eventually should reach out and try to fix the damage that was done, because if your situation at the compound needed to get better just for the chance that you would stay, you at least needed your best friends back. But Bucky knew you deserved time and space away from all of the drama to really process it and figure out how you wanted it to end.

Bucky also knew a week of no contact with Steve would help the both of you stop fueling the fire. The harsh words would settle, reflecting back on the situation wouldn't feel as dramatic, and maybe now Steve would finally find the right words without the sight of you every day.

Plus, he would be damned if he let Steve have a conversation this serious with you over the phone.

Sure, both boys were extremely worried about you. There were a few times Bucky wanted to call and check up on you too, but he knew his own feelings shouldn't come before yours right now.

Meanwhile, the week did you wonders. You spent your days reconnecting with everything you used to love. Your favorite restaurants in the area, old friends you barely got to see now that you lived so far, the old yoga studio you attended 4 times a week, and seeing your family every day was healing in ways you didn't even know your heart could reach.

Filling the mornings and afternoons with everything you loved was important, but you knew better than to completely disregard the real issues at hand. So every night you'd go on a walk to the pretty park a few blocks from your childhood home, and meditate under the moon.

With the one airpod you had left, you'd let music shuffle and allow the lyrics to guide your thoughts. Some were a little to sad to bare, others were so on the nose you couldn't help but to listen over and over again while allowing the words to comfort you like a hug you've really been needing.

You and Steve were still friends and shared a playlist on your favorite music streaming app. Every night at the park you could see he was listening to sad music, and knew he could see you doing the same. Dramatic? Maybe. Were the sad melodies making you feel understood and less alone? Absolutely.

Eventually he got brave and while you sat under the moon and admired the stars, your headphones read the newest notification.

Steve Rogers added new song to playlist: Little Freak by Harry Styles.

You sighed, but against your better judgement you let the song play to understand what he was trying to say to you. Though the song was familiar to you, all this music was new to Steve. He loved listening to all your favorite artists and bonding over the modern music. The message was loud and clear when you heard it.

"I was thinking about who you are, your delicate point of view, I was think about you. I'm not worried about where you are or who you will go home too, I'm just thinking about you. I disrespected you, jumped in feet first and I landed too hard. Broken ankle, karma rules."

You knew deep down that you shouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. He didn't deserve to be invading your sacred space, he knew how much music meant to you. But on the other hand, he deserved to know how much he hurt you. If he got to send you a message through song, you deserved to speak your mind too.

So you added a new song to the playlist as well. My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift.

"Even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you till my dying day. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. You're the hero flying around saving face. If I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed? Look at how my tears ricochet."

After that, your phone was silent and nothing else was added to your playlist. You could see he listened to the song, then once it was over he was no longer active on the app.

You'd usually let your mind really reflect on what happened and what you wanted going forward, but you found that Steve took up most of your thoughts, and what to do about your career always came second to him.

It seems like your Mom and Dad's advice always leaned towards joining the Avengers. But why wouldn't it? All they ever wanted for you was to find something you love and run as far as you could with it.

Jane would've preferred you leave the field completely. You knew the nature of your job left her in a permanent state of unease about your safety, but you always reassured her that you were in good hands so you'd be okay.

Nathan was a little more understanding that not everything was so black and white, so he played devils advocate for all sides, and of course Luca wanted you to join the Avengers.

Hearing all of their perspectives was helpful to see the bigger picture, but at the end of the day, only Jane and Nathan knew the extent of what happened. You kept the whole Steve and Bucky situation away from your parents for the same reason you kept it away from Luca, you didn't want to ruin the illusion of a superhero for them.

Also.... Your parents really didn't need to know the nitty gritty on your escapades with the winter soldier.

All good things came to an end, especially having your whole family under one roof. After a whole week together, Jane, Nathan, and Luca had to go home to get back to their own life, while your mom and dad left to go on a few day vacation they had planned months ago. So it left you, and the family dog, Rocket, you happily agreed to take care of in their absence.

It was actually kind've nice to have time to yourself. You filled the day with morning yoga, brunch with a friend, some journaling and therapy, and a much needed nap. As the sun went down, you threw a toy around the house to try and get Rocket's energy out but it didn't help much. So after you cooked and ate dinner, you grabbed a tennis ball and walked him a few blocks to the park.

Luckily he was allowed off leash, and there was one other dog there for a little while that took an immediate liking to him, so they ran around and tuckered each other out while you sat on the grass and watched.

Eventually his little friend left, so it left just the two of you, the tennis ball, and the twinkling stars above head.

As lame as it felt to admit, the small spotty brown dachshund filled your soul with so much joy that you couldn't wipe the smile off your face. Throwing the ball, and watching his little legs carry him so far, so fast with tiny little hops was definitely one of the cutest things you've seen in a while.

He was a brave and trusting little creature in most aspects of life, but when the rumble of an approaching motorcycle got a little too loud for his liking, Rocket came running back to your side with his tail between his legs.

Sitting by your side, you picked him up and held him close to your chest while speaking calming words to him that he definitely didn't understand. You pressed little kisses to his forehead, and he licked your cheek in return causing you to laugh.

Feeling a little annoyed that the motorcycle pulled into the parking area for the park you were occupying on your own, you stayed vigilant of your surroundings. Fully prepared to leave when the man got off the bike, you set Rocket down and started reaching for his leash before the dog started running towards the man who was now walking towards the both of you.

"Hey! Rocket, no!" You jumped up from your spot to chase after the irrationality fast weenie. Tail wagging, and happy wiggles took over his little body as he hopped up on his back two legs to greet the stranger. "I'm so sorry! He usually never does this, I don't know why he's... oh."

I'm front of you stood none other than Steve Rogers himself, looking delectable and cozy in a cute teal crewneck and some casual pants with sneakers on. You immediately had a billion and one questions, but he was very obviously taken by Rocket who was also very obviously taken by Steve. There was a serious love as first sight situation happening as Steve leaned down with a big smile on his face to say hi to the little dog.

"It's okay!" Steve giggled, squatting down to get closer to Rocket. "He soooo stinkin' cute!"

"What are you doing here?" You asked, feeling throughly confused, and immediately feeling a little defensive and protective.

When he looked up at you, your arms crossed over your chest as a form of self soothing. It had been so long since you felt this uncomfortable energy, and having it ripple through your body once more felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

"Oh, I was just in the area." Steve said sarcastically, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

"Right." You agreed. "Casually in the area two hours away from home... on a motorcycle?"

"An hour and 45 minutes is only an hour and 20 on a bike." Steve noted with a shy smile.

"And how did you know that this area you so happened to be in was the same place I was, even though I never told anyone where I was?" You tilted your head to the side.

"Oh, it's easy. A little birdie told me." Steve noted.

"What was the bird's name?"

"That's not important." He denied, still smiling at the dog but standing to his full height.

"I don't know, feels kind've important to me." You hated that you had to hold back a smile as you looked at him. And you hated even more that you couldn't stop thinking about how stupidly cute he looked with helmet hair and a cozy crewneck on.

"Do you want to sit and chat?" Steve asked, suddenly seeming nervous. "...if not that's fine we can talk a different time if you want."

"You came all this way just to talk?" You questioned.

Steve swallowed nervously as he nodded.

“You could've called me." You challenged.

"Sometimes I think the old fashioned way of doing things is better." He shrugged. "...Also you blocked my phone number after work hours."

You sighed and pointed to your blanket on the grass. "Sit."

He quickly nodded and obeyed your orders. He sat first, and you sat next to him, Rocket trailed behind with the tennis ball in his mouth before happily handing it to Steve.

"Who is this little guy?" Steve asked, throwing the ball for him.

"Rocket"

"Like the raccoon?"

“No, he's my parent's dog. They just thought the name suited him. But they're out of town for the next 3 days so he's mine until then." You explained.

"I heard you spent some time with your family. You look a lot happier, do you feel better?"

"So Jane was the birdie who told you where I was." You noted.

"Will not confirm nor deny."

"Mmm" you hummed, reading between the lines. "Yes, it was very nice spending time with people who love me. I do feel a lot better, but it's going to take a lot longer than a week to heal from everything that happened."

"Of course it will, but all that matters is that it's getting a little better everyday." Steve noted. "I don't know if this helps, but I think I put the fear of the devil into Harvey and all his friends. Should you choose to come back, I don't think they would be an issue for you anymore."

"Do I even want to know what you did to them?" You asked.

"I don't think the details really matter too much right now." Steve shrugged once more.

A very uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you, so you threw the ball for Rocket this time.

"Would you like to talk about the hard stuff?" Steve raised.

"Can't we just talk about the weather?" You complained, dreading the inevitable.

"It's pretty chilly out tonight." Steve noted. "You're not cold?"

"Nope." You exaggerated the P at the end of the word.

"Good chat." Steve giggled at the astronomical amount of discomfort and awkwardness you were exuding. "This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it."

"I haven't cried in a few days." You told him. "I'm dreading losing my streak."

"Crying is healthy, and so is expressing emotions." Steve told you. "For example, I really missed you and I've been worried about you for a while now, so I'm here to express that."

"Oh, so you weren't just in the area?" You questioned.

"I took my motorcycle to get to you as fast as I could, because I waited a whole week and every single day that passed by without me giving you a much needed apology was killing me slowly with an amount of guilt I didn't even know was possible for a human being to feel. So no, I was absolutely nowhere near the area."

"Was that the apology?"

"No." Steve denied. "I'm really sorry for everything that's happened. I feel like every interaction I've had with you this past month has been a really bad reflection of my character. I should've went about the whole situation with a lot more logic and understanding, and I should've just listened to you and Bucky before letting anger get the best of me. It wasn't fair to you."

Your eyes stayed fixed on Rocket as he hopped around the grass, he watched you slowly nod while processing his words. "I never meant to hurt your feelings, and if I knew back then what I knew now, Bucky and I would've never..."

"I know." Steve saved you from having to finish that statement. "And our last training was just... completely unacceptable. I wish there was a logical explanation as to why I was so upset that day. Quite honestly, every time I even start to think about it I feel just horribly embarrassed and completely mortified. I'm sorry for not listening to you and telling you that I didn't care. I'm sorry for scaring you and completely breaking your trust. Most importantly I'm really fucking sorry for hurting you. I should've listened better and walked you to medical the second you said something, and the fact that I only made it worse has kept me awake every night since it happened."

"Bucky said you were having a tough few days." You noted.

"It doesn't matter." Steve declined. "I need to do better than that, and I will. You were having some really hard days too, but you never used it as a reason to treat me like shit."

“I was pretty shitty to you."

"But within reason."

"I told you to ignore my existence, called you some not so nice names, yelled at you a few times..."

"Because I pushed you to that level of anger."

"The fact of the matter is that you felt that way because you felt disregarded and disrespected by Bucky and I, and for that, I'm sorry too." You apologized. "I know you weren't interested in hearing me out before when this all happened, and at the time none of the words really came out right. So if you're open to it, I feel like I'd really like a chance to explain the choices I made."

"Of course." Steve practically whispered with a subtle nod, throwing the ball once more for the dog. "But don't feel obligated to. I don't think I would've come all this way if I hadn't already forgiven you."

"This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it." You used his own words against him.

"Ah, so you do think we could make it better?" Steve asked.

"Why wouldn't I want it to get better?"

Steve sighed. "You made it pretty clear in a few different ways that you didn't want me as a friend or even around you at all anymore. A big part of me was expecting you to turn me away for good when I showed up here."

"Oh... sorry." You mumbled sadly, suddenly feeling bad about all the words you shouted at him out of pure, hot red anger.

"S'okay."

"Growing up, I was never really the center of attention for anything. I was never good at anything, I got straight B's in school, I had 2 friends at most. Even as I got older and went through high school I wasn't paid much attention to. I never had a boyfriend, I struggled a lot to make friends, once I even went to my teacher to ask him a question 4 months into senior year and he thought I was a new student even though I had been sitting in the second row of his class every single day."

"...yikes." Steve cringed.

"Yikes is right." You agreed. "I never thought I would exceed at anything at all in life. My big plans were finding a 5-9 desk job to make ends meet then just keep going until I didn't have to anymore. Then I discovered the joy of helping people, realized maybe I'm not all that bad at it, and before I knew it I was at Shield. Then all of the sudden I went from never getting much attention my entire life, to having all eyes on me at all times. I was being held to impossibly high standards, the boys wouldn't leave me alone, it felt like regardless of where I was in the building, there was this big huge spotlight on me."

Rocket had finally gotten too tired to play with his ball, so he came back to you and Steve, and laid down right next to Steve's leg. "Even I was hearing about you before you had made it to high enough ranks to work with me."

"Getting no male attention your whole life will kind've mess you up a bit, but going from no male attention to getting thrown into the compound where only a handful of other women work will mess you up a lot."

"Like throwing a zebra into a pack of lions."

"Even that feels like an understatement." You grinned. "Harvey was the first guy I met that didn't feel like he was going to eat me alive, so I stuck with him."

"He was your first boyfriend?" Steve asked, sounding genuinely appalled.

"He was my first everything." You admitted shyly. "I thought he was one of the good ones, like that one boy you waited your whole life for. But obviously I was stupid, and that turned out to be one of the bigger mistakes of my life."

"He's the stupid one, not you." Steve denied.

"When I met you and Bucky, it was a big breath of fresh air. You guys helped me realize that Harvey was bad for me, but at that point I was already convinced he would be the only guy who would ever be stupid enough to fall in love with me. So I stayed way longer than I should've, but in the meantime I felt like I had opened up to you and Bucky far more than I ever had to Harvey. We started training together and talking more, and at that point I felt like I had given you so much more of myself than I had ever given anyone else in my life. Which I know sounds odd, but we were having these really good conversations that made me feel really vulnerable but in a good way, and we had built so much trust and understanding of each other that I never had to question what your intentions were when you were around."

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. That was the only word Steve could think of at the moment. How he felt, how he treated you, how he made you feel, he was an asshole.

"I'll spare you details, but after Harvey and I officially called it quits obviously I was really fucking sad. I wanted to see you, but you were away on a mission and I just needed to be with a friend so I went to Bucky's place instead. I had all of this new found freedom, paired with this gut wrenching feeling that I was going to be alone and unloved for the rest of my life, and a good friend in front of my face who was just so kind and gentle...things just happened. I wasn't the one to initiate, but I definitely didn't put a stop to it because for once it was really nice to feel wanted. We didn't even kiss or see each other naked, it felt like less of a big deal to me and far less vulnerable or intimate than most of the stunts and challenges I let you guide me through in training. Bucky and I weren't trying to be malicious and we had no bad intentions in our choice to not tell you, I was just afraid that you wouldn't understand and that you'd take it the wrong way. Which, with all due respect, you didn't understand and by the time I even got a chance to try to explain it to you, we were both so angry and defensive that none of the words would come out right."

Working up the courage to look at Steve to gauge any sort of emotional reaction from him, his face was full of remorse as his eyes stayed set on the dog as his hands gently pet his long body and scratched the top of his head.

You took the chance to take a deep breath and let your palm sink into the fluffy park grass, one last ditch effort to ground yourself before the getting into the hardest part of the conversation. "That fear of misunderstanding and miscommunication is exactly why you didn't tell me or Bucky or anyone for that matter that you liked me. And just like how the information about what Bucky and I did got to you in the wrong way at the wrong time, that information got to me in the very wrong way at the very wrong time. And just like you, I didn't understand, and I felt hurt and betrayed because of it."

You watched Steve's cheeks turn red before he hid his face in his hands and let out a groan, earning a little smile from you that he couldn't even see. "Can we just talk about the weather again?"

"Sure thing." You agreed. "I think I lied to you on accident, because now I am kind've cold."

"Wow I'll never forgive you." He joked dryly, mumbling into the palms of his hands.

"That's okay, we can add it to the list of dumb shit we gotta talk through." You giggled. "Well, seems like that covers the weather category again. Are you ready to come out of hiding?"

He peeked one eye out between his fingers. "No. I kind've wish the floor would swallow me whole right now."

"Wow, I didn't think that you had a weak spot, but I found it." You enthused.

Although it was at much too high a cost, seeing a genuine smile on your face for the first time in over a month was like a big breath of fresh air to Steve.

"I'm not covering my ears, I can still hear you perfectly fine. Please continue." He grumbled.

"Just to put you out of your misery and conclude that horrifically long sob story I just subjected you to..." You started. "I was only hurt in that moment because after fooling around with Bucky and getting the information that you liked me sprung on me, it felt like I had lost the only two people in the compound who didn't see me as or treat me like an object of some weird sexual fantasy. Part of me even felt mad and embarrassed at myself for believing that we could've been friends without you guys seeing me that way. Plus, I had all those people in the compound already saying the only reason I was getting so far in my career was because I was sleeping with you, and I so desperately didn't want them to be right. So, all of that being said, I'm sorry too, I should've never been so mean to you. I'm sorry that Bucky and I hurt you, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and not letting you explain yourself while accusing you of things you'd never do."

"Like I said earlier, I already forgave you." Steve slowly let his hands fall from his face, cheeks still stained a pretty pink color.

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve an apology." You reminded him. "We both hurt each other, it's not fair for you to take all the blame."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up" Steve took a deep breath.

"Don't do that" you shook your head. "Please don't throw up."

"I hope you know that our friendship has always meant a lot to me, and absolutely none of it was a scheme to sleep with you." Steve braved through the hard part of the conversation he absolutely wished he never had to think about again.

"Yeah, I do now." You reassured him. "I'm sorry I said that."

"I really just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Steve explained. "Especially in an environment where you were already getting eaten alive. Plus I was your boss, and you had Harvey, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship... and, yeah, I dunno. It was just a mess. I didn't tell Bucky because I didn't want him to tell me to tell you. He figured it out on his own, by the way. Apparently my eyes twinkle too much, whatever that means."

"I'm not uncomfortable, and yeah, you do have really twinkly eyes." You grinned.

"I guess that's your fault" Steve jokingly sassed.

"Oh so now we're pointing fingers?" You took fake offense.

"From this point on, I'd really like it if everyone could just ignore the twinkle in my eyes so we can all get back to being friends like we were before." Steve said, giving you a really easy escape to officially denying him.

"But I think the twinkles are so pretty!" You enthused, giggling when you could practically see his heart drop.

"You shouldn't be saying things like that when you know I already feel like throwing up." Steve shook his head and clutched his stomach.

"But I mean it." You confirmed. "Knowing what I know now, why would we ever go back to being how we were before?"

Steve swallowed thickly, then his hands started exaggerated movements to further get his point across. "I'm trying to give you an easy way out of telling me you don't want me back in the same way."

"I understand, but that wouldn't be true." You giggled. "I do remember you stating very clearly that you aren't my boss anymore, am I remembering that correctly?"

"No, technically I'm not you b-" He rambled quietly.

"Do we think this would do anything to harm our sweet little Bucky boy?"

"No. He's been going out with Natasha and has been trying to get me to ask y-"

"You we're so kind as to cut me some deals, so I've got one for you too. Let's take some time to let everything settle and heal over, then when the time is right, we'll explore more of that little twinkle, alright?"

"Okay." Steve nodded wide eyed and enthusiastic.

"Yeah? Are you going to throw up?" You questioned with a smile.

"Maybe only a little bit." He continued nodding.

"I guess that's better than a lot-a-bit" you justified.

"So we're okay?" Steve asked, twinkly eyed and puppy dogged face.

"We're okay." You confirmed. "Can I give you a hug? You look like you really need it."

Steve opened his arms for you, and you both had to awkwardly lean over Rocket who was instantly stayed tucked next to his leg. Embracing him tightly, you realized just how badly you needed it too.

Both unwilling to let go for a little while, you took the time to appreciate his body heat that was a stark difference between the cold air outside.

"I'm sorry." Steve quietly apologized again.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too." You accepted. "I really missed you, Stevie."

"I missed you too, Bug. I've been so worried about you lately." One of his hands was very sweetly rubbing your back.

"Sorry." You sighed. "I've been trying my best."

"I know. That doesn't make me worry any less."

"I love you." You reminded him for the first time in a while.

Steve relaxed and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding onto. "I love you more."

Although you could've hugged him forever, the two of you mutually unwrapped yourself from each other.

"How is your shoulder?" He questioned remorsefully.

"Oh, it's fine." You told him. "It feels so much better. I've been doing yoga all week and it's held up nicely."

"Good, that's good." He nodded. "And have you put any thought into what you're going to do about your job?"

"Everyone seems to want me to do something different." You sighed. "I've been coming here almost every night just to think about it. It's really nice that the sprinklers don't turn on at 10 pm."

“What do you want to do?"

"I think I know what I want, but I'm really scared of making the jump." You explained.

"I'm not here to talk you in or out of anything, I was just curious." Steve grinned. "You still have the rest of the week to think it through. But just know that I have no doubt in your ability to handle a big scary jump"

"I can usually only handle big scary jumps because most of the time, you're down at the bottom waiting to catch me." You admitted.

"Well regardless of what you choose, I'll still always be here for you." Steve reminded you sweetly. "I just hope you do what you think is best for you, and not what other people want you to do."

“That's the thing, I don't think I know what's good for me."

"Are you kidding me? You have great intuition." Steve said. "Your just need to gain back trust for that little voice in your head that's telling you what to do."

"The same voice that bullies me every day?!" You asked with a giggle. "Absolutely not, she gets no say in any of my choices nowadays."

Steve close lipped smiled at you, his dimples setting deep into his chiseled cheeks. "Then forget you even have a brain and listen to your heart."

"She's also been really problematic recently." You noted. "I don't like her very much right now."

His smile turned into a pout. "That sounds like a very tough thing to not like about yourself."

"Tell me about it." You agreed. "But we're working on it."

"Once again, I guess that's all that matters." Steve noted. "So you can't make a big decision with your heart or your head, and your shoulder is out of the question. We're running low on body parts."

"Maybe I'll let Rocket make the choice for me." You grinned at the sleepy dog.

"I think Rocket should be an Avenger... actually, I think Rocket should come home with me and be my dog instead." Steve smiled, petting the dog once more.

"My parents would hunt you down for sport if you ever took this dog." You giggled. "He's their favorite child."

"But I love him!" Steve pouted like a child. "He's just so fucking cute! Have you seen these ears?!"

"No pets allowed at the compound" You reminded him, nudging his arm. "Maybe that's all the more reason to quit."

“I think that's reason to break the rules, not to quit." Steve corrected.

"Captain America suggesting I break the rules?!" You questioned with a gasp.

"Am I not the same man who's whole career was founded off of breaking the law?" Steve questioned right back. "When have I ever followed the rules?"

"Wow, bad to the bone."

"That sounded sarcastic." He noted as his eyebrow raised in question.

"Me? Sarcastic? Never." You denied.

Rocket readjusted to get more comfortable, but crawled into the hole within Steve's crossed legs and curled up into a little ball in his lap, with his head resting on his thigh.

"Okay that's it." Steve declared, fists balling up to keep himself from unleashing his cuteness aggression on the creature in the form of hugging him so tight his eyes popped out of his head like a stress ball. "I can't take this anymore. How bad would your parents beat me up if I stole this dog? Because really, I think I could take the beating."

"I simply cannot express to you how much taking this dog away from my parents is not an option." You laughed at his question. "I think my Mom would run you over with her car."

"No way she would do that." Steve shook his head. "She was so nice when I met her!"

"She would not be nice if you stole her weenie." You pointed out.

"Come on, she gave me a hug. No mom that's giving out free hugs could ever hit me with a car."

"That's where you're wrong. Because any woman that has so much love for her kids would do anything to seek rightful justice if you did anything to fuck with them." You corrected him. "Even if she's five foot nothing, and you're Captain America. Don't mess with her baby."

“Oh no" Steve's eyes went wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh shit." He panicked. "Do your parents hate me?"

"No? Why would they hate you?" You questioned with a nervous laugh.

"Because I accidentally fucked with your Mom's baby and now she's going to do anything to seek rightful justice." Steve clutched the fabric of his sweater right over his chest. "The throw up is coming back."

"I didn't tell them anything about you or Bucky, other than that you didn't let me quit right in the spot." You explained. "They love you and all of the Avengers too much for me to ever ruin their perception of the people who make them feel safe."

"So why do they think you're here?" Steve asked.

"I only told them about Harvey and the general issues I'm having with all of the other agents."

"Your sister knows." He said. "She made a weird comment..."

"She always makes weird comments, that's just what makes Jane, Jane." You smiled. "Yes, she knows, but she likes you a lot. I think she even took your side, she's been advocating for you the whole time."

"She's going to tell your mom, and your mom is going to hunt me for sport."

"No she won't, and even if she does find out about it, she's a very rational person. As long as we're fine, she's fine." You explained. "Look I'll prove it to you, say cheese!"

Quickly taking your phone out of your pocket and pointing the camera at Steve and Rocket, he smiled and you snapped a picture. He watched you type away for a few moments.

You sent the picture in a group chat with your mom and dad, then immediately got a response.

"See! Look! I said, look who came by to hang out with your favorite child." You giggled at your screen, turning it towards him so show that you sent them the picture. "My mom responded and said omg, Dad is honored. We don't know who is cuter, Rocket or Captain Rogers."

"Okay now ask if I can steal the dog." His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink.

"I thought the point was to make sure my mom liked you" You laughed, locking your phone and putting it on the grass besides you. "Trust that I'm doing you a favor."

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it." He joked.

"I didn't know you felt so passionately about wieners, Steven." You giggled.

"What can I say? There's nothing better than kicking back and playing with a wiener." He ran with your joke.

"A nice, long wiener."

"This is ridiculous" Steve's face scrunched up, earning more of your adorable laughter.

Like no time had passed, you and Steve sat and chatted away for a few hours. You could tell the comfortable conversation was helping him resolve his own internal guilt, so you were happy to stay and chat for as long as he needed. But selfishly, you missed him more than you ever wanted to admit to yourself.

His adorable smile and pretty pink cheeks lit up a part of your heart that you had felt so disconnected from for so long now. And as the night grew colder, and significantly later, he couldn't just ignore the occasional chills that would make you momentarily shiver. You kept ignoring them and playing them off just to spend more time with your sweet friend, but eventually you ended up tucked underneath his arm and snuggled up to his side for warmth while Rocket stayed glued to his lap.

There was little you could do to ignore how comfortable and familiar it felt to be sharing warmth with the soldier. By all means, both Steve and Bucky were touchy people on a normal day to day basis, plus all of the training you did with Steve made you very comfortable with his skin on yours.

But this was different. His head that nestled on top of yours that rested on his shoulder, his big hand on the top of you arm keeping you close and snug against him, paired the gentle and quiet volume in his voice wasn't just friendly.

His hold was apologetic, and almost regretful. It was reconnecting, and mending. You could feel all of his unspoken words seeping out from his warm body to into your cold one, and you wondered if he could feel the same thing happening to him through your timid hand resting between his shoulder blades.

Just based on his calm breaths, but still racing pulse that you could feel on his neck, you knew it was different for him too.

But it was a good different, a hopeful and very exciting different.

Much like your shivers that you ignored and played off, Steve was trying to mask his yawns. Unfortunately, this was something that you couldn't ignore. Especially when you pressed the button on your phone and the screen informed you that it was already 11:52pm.

"As sad as I am to have to put an end to this, it's already almost midnight and your crazy ass drove an hour and a half here on a motorcycle." You reminded him.

"I just got you back, I don't want to leave you again." He pouted.

"I don't want you to leave either, but I'd prefer if you got home safely." Your timid hand now gently rubbing short stripes on his back. "Or you can stay the night with me here if you'd like."

A sleepy grin overtook the sat pout. "Thank you, but once again I don't want your parents to hate me. Plus I have my stupid annual physical in the morning."

"My parents wouldn't hate you, they'd rather you be safe than drive home tired."

"I'm not that tired, I'll be okay." He reassured you. "And you can't come back to the compound?"

"No, I have to watch Rocket." You reminded him. "But I'll see you in a few days at least. I'll be back before the end of the week."

"Oh, you'll be back?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging your statement.

"To give my official resignation at the very least, or to move all of my stuff into the Avengers sector at the very most. Who's to say what's going to happen?" You giggled.

"Well, when you need help moving let me know. I know a couple guys that can lift a few thousand pounds at a time, it helps the process go by really fast." Steve egged you on.

"Uh huh, I'll keep that in mind." You rolled your eyes with a smile, and wrapped your other arm around his front to squeeze him in a sideways hug. "Thanks for coming all the way here. It was really nice getting to have a conversation with you, I really missed spending time together."

"Of course. Thank you for even giving me the chance to explain myself. If I were you, I don't know of I would be able to be that gracious." He squeezed your shoulder in appreciation.

"There isn't much I wouldn't do for you." You grinned.

"Oh yeah? What wouldn't you do?" Steve questioned with a chuckle.

"I won't let you steal my moms dog." You stated. "Which reminds me, I'm going to need that back."

"Okay, I guess you can have him back. " Steve smiled and picked up the little fur-ball from his lap and placed him on yours instead. "Thanks for letting me play with your wiener."

"Feel free to come back and play with my wiener anytime." You laughed at his joke, unwrapping yourself from him as he started standing up.

"What an incredible offer, thank you" Steve smiled, now standing over you and offering you his hand to help you up.

"Like I said, anytime." You playfully winked.

Quickly putting on Rockets leash, you set the dog on the grass and accepted Steve's hand. He pulled you up effortlessly and bent over to grab your blanket from the grass.

"How far away is your parents house?" Steve questioned, subconsciously folding the blanket.

"About two blocks" You shrugged.

"Can I walk you guys home?" He asked, eyes twinkling once more as he shoved his hands in his front pockets to keep them warm.

"Absolutely not" You denied.

He was immediately pretending to be offended with a big gasp and hand whipped out of his pocket and over his heart. "Ma'am, it is pitch black out here and it's already midnight."

You laughed at his response. "Sir, it's pitch black and midnight. Your motorcycle is right there. I'm not letting you walk me two blocks in a neighborhood I'm familiar with because that means you'll have to walk another two blocks back here all by yourself somewhere you've never been. Logistically it makes no sense."

Steve puffed and furrowed his eyebrows. "What if some creepy dude comes and tries to mess with you? Huh? Then what?"

"Then I use all my big and scary self defense moves that Captain America taught me." You answered. "Also, do you not see this big scary guard dog? Nobody is going to fuck with me."

His pout deepened. "What if you start walking home and some dude on a motorcycle follows you all the way home?"

"Is that what's going to happen?" You giggled at his question.

"If you keep saying you're not going to let me walk you home then maybe it will." Steve shrugged.

"I've been walking by myself this late every single night for a week now." You told him. "It's always been fine, it'll be fine again."

"Now you're just trying to give me a heart attack." Steve deadpanned, earning your laugh once again.

"So I'm a good enough fighter to be an Avenger, but not good enough to walk to my parents house by myself?" You asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Steve enthused. "So glad we could have this conversation to clear that up, come one let's get you home."

His arm linked around yours and he started walking. "I think you're absolutely out of your mind, but I appreciate you nonetheless."

Looking up at his face just in time, you caught his smile. "The second half of that statement is really the only part that matters to me."

Your steps synched up with his, and Rocket walked ahead of the two of you. "Hey, Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"If you actually want to get me home, we should be walking in the complete opposite direction" You grinned.

Steve stopped and laughed. "Okay, you lead the way."

You did eventually make it home, and only when you stood on the door step did Steve let your arms disconnect.

"Look we made it here and nobody died!" You enthused. "Do you remember how to get back?"

"Of course I do" Steve giggled at your question. "It wasn't even two full blocks."

"Just making sure" you raised your hands in defense. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"I would if I could." His thankful grin showed off the shallow dimples in his cheeks. "See you soon?"

"In a few days" you nodded in confirmation.

He stuck his arms out for one last hug, and you accepted happily. After he let go of you, he bent down to say bye to Rocket.

"Drive save! Text me when you get home." You told him.

Steve's face scrunched up for a second, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"You blocked my phone number" He reminded you with a loud whisper.

"I'll unblock it, but text me when you get home" You giggled.

"Okay great!" Steve smiled big and did a little happy dance. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, love you!"

"Love you more!" He waved as he walked down the driveway.

Next Part: Twinkles

Taglist: @sarangheay @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bigtreefest

185 notes · View notes

blackswan446 · 4 months

Text

thief

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: in which a girl's purse gets stolen by an unlikely thief.

→ wc: 3167

→ cws: mentions of getting raped/murdered (not implied to have happened/will happen, more acknowledging that it could have happened), implied smut at the end

→ notes: aaa i hope you guys like it!!!

—

the sound of quiet chatter buzzed in the atmosphere. as you ascended the stairs leading to the subway station, the brisk evening air hit your face, leaving a bitter kiss on your exposed cheeks and prompting you to adjust your fuzzy white scarf to sit just a little bit above your nose.

you walked hurriedly, eager to get out of the cold and home to the hot shower and sofa that had been calling your name all day. your job, an assistant to the director at a small, ordinary insurance company was just that; ordinary. there was little to no substance to your work, and the most exciting topics of discussion were whose kids were getting married and what type of sweets were sitting in the break room. as mundane as it was, you appreciated the routine of it. your boss was like every other, your fellow office ladies treated you well, and it put food on the table, so who were you to complain?

as you strayed further and further from the subway exit, and strolled through more isolated and empty streets, you quickened your pace and stood up straighter, sticking close to the white glow of the streetlights. though the neighborhood you lived in was fairly safe and quiet, things still happened. glancing at the dark houses surrounding you, you kept walking, soles hitting the concrete with a soft thud with every step you took.

you were snapped out of your thoughts of dinner and a movie when you noticed something at the end of the street. more accurately, someone. their tall, shadowy figure contrasted sharply with the brightness of the streetlight they stood under, and it was only drawing closer to you. sticking your hands deep into your pockets and averting your eyes from the dark silhouette of the man that was moving in your direction, you took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind of the anxious thoughts that began to cloud the serene skies of your psyche.

calm down. not everybody you see out at night is a murderer.

the man, who you could now see was donning a black face mask and matching black hoodie, walked with slumped posture and his hands hanging sadly by his side. despite his depressing stance, he was very obviously a good bit taller than you and had a full, strong, build. in other words, he could, without a doubt, pick you up and shove you into a car with ease no matter how hard you fought back. a chill ran down your spine at the very thought, and as you finally passed by him, you silently prayed to every single god, goddess, and deity in the sky as he whooshed by. your relief, which was sweet and comforting, pushed the anxiety out of your body and wrapped you up in a warm hug as he left your peripheral vision.

that was, until you felt a strong yank on your purse from behind.

your stomach lurched at the sudden movement. the force, which was strong enough to rip your hand from the warmth of your pocket, pulled your arm backwards far enough to almost make you fall over. you felt the thin leather strap of your purse slide off your coated arm, past your shaking hand and into the grasp of the man you had just seen.

he took off down the street with loud, thumping, footsteps. it was in this very moment in time, this exact millisecond, you messed up, bad.

fueled by adrenaline, and without doing any logical thinking, you raced after him, heart pumping wildly in your chest as you struggled to catch up with him. your bag, which was a bright and bold red color, stuck out amongst the darkness of his outfit and the night around you, and, from this point of view, looked more like a big target rather than a cool accessory.

your forehead broke out into an uncomfortable sweat as you continued after him. the man had stamina, you'd give him that. it was unsurprising to you, based on the sole fact that he looked like he spent most of his life at the gym, but you had to give him credit. this man could run.

your lungs, which were screaming for a break by this point, were on the verge of collapse. your feet ached from how hard they were hitting the ground, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. a sharp, sudden, pain struck you in your side, the same type of pain you'd get after running for too long on the playground as a kid. and a hard lump sat in the back of your throat, thick and painful as you tried to swallow the saliva in your mouth. you could feel yourself staggering, quickly losing your pace and letting him get ahead. he, on the other hand, looked like he could do this for days, his strides long and even, his posture now perfect, and his speed unmatched.

your entire body protested, sending you more than enough signals that it was time to stop, but your mind persisted, urging you to keep going and reclaim what was yours. just when you were about to give up, one of the gods you had prayed to earlier finally woke up, saw your situation, and decided to grant you some mercy. whether it was true mercy or disdain in disguise, was a question without a clear answer. this action manifested in the form of the thief in front of you turning a corner into what you understood to be a long, narrow, alleyway.

though you were grateful that he was now cornered and stuck, you couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to go down there. it was fairly obvious by the trashcans and dumpsters that this wasn't a traveled and open road, but a dead end, a guaranteed end to a glorious race in which he would come out to be the loser. why did he choose to take this route?

ignoring your own confusion, you gasped for air after your sprint and wondered if it was even worth it. this was the very situation you had been warned about your entire life, one that plagued your mind on nights such as this one and added to the endless worries already stuck in your mind. and besides, by now, the slimy perp had probably jumped whatever fence was at the back of the alley and could very well be in the next town over by now.

accepting your defeat and resigning to your fate of having to replace almost everything you owned, you started to turn away from the shady alley and start back towards your house, still struggling to get a full breath of air into your burning lungs. you paused when you heard quiet footsteps from behind you. before you could actually react, you felt a strong hand land on your right shoulder and pull you backwards, almost making you stumble onto the ground. the person's other hand tightly grasped the upper left quadrant of your arm, pulling you closer to their chest.

you shrieked, flailing your one free arm and trying to step on their foot in an attempt to loosen their grip. they took the hand off your shoulder and instead clasped it over your mouth, silencing your screams as they gently guided you to walk into the dark and mysterious alley. over the pounding of your heart, which was loud and banging in your ears, you could hear some mumblings of what sounded like gentle and quiet praise, which is the last thing you would've expected from somebody who had just robbed you and forced you into an alley.

he slowly led you to the back of the creepy passage, not bothering to be rough or abrasive in the process. upon observation, you didn't see much besides trash and puddles of murky water. what stuck out to you was really your purse. instead of it being dumped out, open, or otherwise discarded lazily, it was instead sitting neatly in a dry part of the alley, away from any garbage or liquids. it looked like it had been placed there with care and concern, which further puzzled you on what this guy's intentions were.

you finally stopped walking, the man behind you removing the large hand that gripped your arm. before he removed the hand from over your mouth, he leaned in closer to your ear, close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck and smell the sweet cologne on his skin. "you'll be quiet for me, right? you won't scream or yell?" he asked, sending a shiver down your back. his voice was deep and masculine yet still, somehow, soft and kind. you nodded shakily, too scared to act out of line and subject yourself to more pain than you were already in for.

slowly taking his hand away from your dry mouth, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. he took both of his hands and sat them upon your shoulders once again, guiding you to sit down against a rough brick wall. pushing you to the ground, you sank down with your knees tight against your chest, shivering from the cold, damp, pavement. at this point, his tall figure was towering over you, causing your heart to sink down to your stomach and making your hands sweat. so many thoughts ran though your head, seeping into your mind like red ink on a clean white shirt.

the man, who has busied himself with removing his mask and pulling his hood slightly back, knelt down right in front of you. if you didn't know any better, you would've mistaken this man for a celebrity, based on looks alone. you hated yourself for thinking so, but he was undeniably and undoubtedly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life. his face was angelic, which was ironic seeing as this man was the furthest thing from a symbol of heaven that you had ever met. his eyes, instead of being dark, beady, and lifeless, were round and bright. his pupils glinted in the light of the streetlamp outside the alley, despite the distance between the two. his nose was smooth and sharp, and his lips were thin but still nice, adorned with a shiny ring on the bottom left. his hair, which partially stuck out of his black hood, was cut into a chic and modern mullet-like style. no, there was no denying that this man was handsome, but all that glitters is not gold, and that was more than obvious in this situation.

overwhelmed and scared, you couldn't control the tears that fell from your eyes and rolled onto your cheeks. a look of sadness and concern crossed the man's face, and he looked almost confused to see your emotional response. "don't cry, sweetheart, why're you crying?" he said affectionately, reaching out and wiping the tears that stained your face with his thumb. "hey, now...you don't have to cry. it's just me." he murmured, as if that would bring you any sort of comfort.

he sighed, and put his hands on your knees, which were the only thing in between you two. you shrunk back, as if you could get any further away from him. "don't hurt me. please, don't hurt me." you whispered desperately, voice quivering. he raised his eyebrows, surprised. "hurt you?! oh darling, you've got it all backwards." he cooed, half-smiling at you and your fear. "i'd never hurt you."

you exhaled shakily, still trembling under his continued touch on your knees. "princess, i understand that you're scared, but you don't need to be, alright? it's me, don't you remember me?" he asked, his thumbs making mindless little patterns on the fabric of your flared work pants. you looked at him, more confused than scared. remember him from where? was he an old classmate or coworker?

he picked up on your bewilderment, and smiled coolly. "oh, that's alright. we haven't seen each other for a while, and i guess you didn't really know about me." he said, "it's me, jungkook, from high school!" he exclaimed, his smile now wide and full. the name rang a bell, and you remembered seeing the young boy in passing sometimes. he wasn't someone you ever interacted with, you didn't know any friends of his and in general you didn't have anything to do with each other.

the look of realization that passed over your face didn't go unnoticed by him either, and he chuckled as he watched your thoughts unfold. "you remember me now?" he questioned, only to get no response from you. he sighed again, eyes wandering down your body and back up within a second. "man, highschool seems so long ago now. i was broke, and lonely, and head over heels for you--well, that part hasn't changed at all." he reminisced. your face contorted, from fear to visible confusion, and you managed to utter out one word. "what?"

he laughed softly, almost in disbelief. "yeah, it's true. from the minute i saw you, actually. you were--and still are--so bright, and beautiful, and kind...i wasn't exactly someone that you would hang around with. i was a loser, i was boring and awkward. but i still held onto you and kept you in my heart. i even made a promise to myself that one day, i'd get you all for myself, and...here we are." he said, beaming from ear to ear.

the world around you began to spin as you processed what he had just told you. what was he talking about, get you all to himself? how creepy! he didn't seem to think so, though. in fact, he seemed to have a sick and sinister sense of pride, a twisted feeling of confidence and an idea of love that had been twisted inside out and covered in a thick, sticky, coat of tar.

"why are you doing this?" you choked out, more tears threatening to leak from your eyes. he laughed at your inquiry, as if you had just asked the most obvious question known to mankind. "why am i doing this? oh, babe, you're so clueless, and that's exactly why. see, even though you are the most perfect and flawless girl in my eyes, you're just so...vulnerable. that's not anything to be ashamed of, darling, if anything, it's what i love most about you. you've never excelled in watching your surroundings or being careful, especially when we were younger. it was only a matter of time before something bad happened to you, i mean, look at you now! you need someone who can protect you from the danger that you would inevitably find yourself in, and that's where i come in." he explained calmly, stroking your hair gently as he did so.

the tears that stuck in your waterline ran down your face like raindrops on glass, smearing the black mascara you had put on earlier that morning. he scowled and wiped your tears once again. "oh, baby..." he whispered. without any warning or notice, he pushed one of your knees away from the other and slid forward, placing himself between your legs, so that they were wrapped around either side of his torso. despite your efforts to push him away, you were no match for him.

before you could move your head or pull away, jungkook leaned more forward and pressed his lips into yours. the kiss, while being gentle and sweet, also felt fiery and desperate. taking your bottom lip in between his teeth and slipping his tongue in your mouth, one of his hands shot to your waist and pushed you back into the wall, stilling your movements. the other hand reached up and cupped your face, angling your head in an attempt to reach further into your mouth.

despite everything in your brain, everything you had ever been warned about and against, everything that you had learned, a teeny, tiny part of your brain couldn't ignore how his lips against yours felt so good, so natural and safe, so right. every one of your instincts were telling you that this was more than a bad idea. these feelings also came with the gut-wrenching realization that jungkook was right. you were vulnerable, obviously, this man had just mugged you, led you into a dark alley where he could have easily raped or murdered you, and here you were making out with him?!

you couldn't stop the hand that flew to his bicep to pull him closer, and you felt him smirk against your swollen lips. his hands traveled from where they were to the buttons of your shirt, busying themselves with undoing the smooth plastic buttons. that was, until a police car sped past the alley, sirens and all, startling the both of you.

jungkook pulled away from your lips, sitting up and admiring the shade of purple that began to ghost your plump lips. you readjusted yourself, sitting up a bit straighter and avoiding his piercing gaze. "such a good girl...complain and cry all you want, my love, but something's telling me that you're more on board with this than you're willing to admit." he teased, a playful smile crossing his lips. "come on, you can say it. you want to come home with me, right? come on, i want you to tell me. you can do it." he prodded, stroking your cheek with his hand lovingly.

you nodded quietly, eyes glued to the ground, face pink and flushed.

hook, line and sinker.

he was definitely happy with you and your compliance, but he couldn't help but be both concerned and relieved at the same time. sure, you were vulnerable and overly-trusting, he knew that. but he expected a little more fight, even from you. his heart broke a little bit, at the thought of you being oh-so damaged that you fold the second he put his lips to yours. you poor little thing.

he knew you'd fall right into his little trap, he knew how you'd chase after him, he knew that you'd be scared. he knew you so well, yet you had still managed to shock him entirely. your trustful nature came as a surprise to him. and now, as the power to entirely destroy you sat in his tattooed hands, he had a choice to make.

did he stick to his original plan, and swear to keep you safe and happy, or did he

absolutely

ruin

you?

though he came here with pure intentions, the sinister opportunities that rested in front of him were too good to pass up. after all, he could always built you back from the ground up, couldn't he?

and now, within a split second, you went from a little lamb that had found her safe haven to one being led to its slaughter. lifting your chin slowly and meeting your eyes, jungkook gave you a sweet, innocent, smile and caressed your cheek.

"now, how about we finish what we've started?"

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

259 notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 5 months

Text

Lesson Learned || Fred Weasley

Title: Lesson Learned Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: When Fred catches Y/N doing something he doesn’t approve of he’s got no choice but to teach her a valuable lesson Warnings: NSFW - minors DNI! This includes consensual non-consensual sex, meaning that during the sex scene it is made to seem that the female reader did not consent, but it is revealed after that reader and Fred are in a relationship and this was a preplanned encounter - if you don’t like that don’t read! vaginal sex, degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, possessive/jealous behavior,mentions of violence. A/N: my last little fic of the year!! Thank you to everyone who has supported me, I couldn’t do this without you! I’ve been out of the smut game for so long I needed some practice so this was born! Tags: @darthwheezely since she requested this and i love her endlessly <3

“What the fuck?”

Ice sprays across the rink as Fred comes to a halt, ripping his helmet off so he can be sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Because surely even a jersey chaser like Y/N has to have some standards, and there’s no way she’s standing there talking no - flirting with an idiot like Cedric Diggory.

The captain of their biggest rival and an all around mega douche.

But it turns out his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Y/N is leaning on the edge of the barrier batting her eyelashes at Cedric as he regales her with some story that Fred is sure the idiot made up to make himself seem cooler. He just about loses his mind when Y/N throws her head back and laughs, her hand coming up to rest on Cedric’s arm.

Luckily Coach blows his whistle to bring them all back from their warm up skate, or Fred would certainly find himself ejected for being the shit out of Cedric before the game even begins. He skates back with the rest of the team reluctantly, already figuring out how to deal with Cedric on the ice - and how to deal with Y/N off of it.

“Holy fuck Weasley you were an animal out there!”

Fred grins as he teammates hoop and holler around him in the locker room, still fresh on adrenaline from their crushing defeat over the Baltimore Badgers. Fueled by the rage of seeing Y/N flirt with Diggory, Fred had been on fire from the second the ref blew the whistle. He skated faster than he ever had before, and hit harder too. By the second quarter three of the Badger’s best players were benched with injuries from being slammed into the boards by Fred, and he’d even managed to break Diggory’s nose during a fight.

The 10 minutes in the penalty box had been worth it.

“Just doing what I do best!” Fred shouts back nonchalantly as he rewraps his knuckles.

He takes his time getting ready after the game, thankful that the game was at home today so there’s no need to rush to the airport for their flight back. Because he knows that Y/N is always the last one to go home, still new to her job as the assistant manager and eager to please everybody. He also knows that while everyone is in the locker room Y/N is in the rink, checking the bench and bleachers for anything anyone may have left behind.

When there’s only a few guys left in the showers Fred decides to put his plan into action. He shoves his bag under one of the benches, and yells a goodbye to his teammates as he slips out of the locker room. Moving as silently as he can, Fred makes his way through the tunnel and out into the rink, crouching down as he reaches the opening in case Y/N happens to be getting ready to come that way. He peeks around the corner best he can and a thrill runs down his spine when he sees Y/N over by the team bench. She’s down on her hands and knees as she reaches for something, and Fred makes his move.

“Jesus Christ,” Y/N shouts as she stands up, surprised to find Fred leaning against the rink watching her. “You scared the shit out of me Fred, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, crossing his arms.

“Doing my job, obviously.”

Fred gives her a look. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

“Well can you just get to the point then? I’d like to finish up here so I can get home,” Y/N huffs.

“My point is,” Fred starts, tone dripping with condescension. “What the fuck were you doing flirting with Cedric fucking Diggory before the game?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s what,” Y/N spits back. “Last I checked I was allowed to screw whoever I want.”

Fred pushes off from the sideboard then, taking a slow step towards Y/N. He’s almost ashamed to admit that a thrill runs down his spine when she takes a step back. “Oh really?”

All the anger seeps from Y/N’s body and is replaced by fear at the tone of Fred’s voice. The look on his face makes her knees tremble as he continues his slow pace forward, her own steps retreating at the same pace. In an effort to distract him she throws the water bottle in her hand as hard as she can, not bothering to watch it hit him. Instead she turns around, trying to make a break for the tunnel.

Except Fred is quicker, not even deterred by the bottle smacking him in the chest he lets out a low growl, and it only takes three strides before he’s grabbing Y/N by the waist.

“Fucking, bitch,” he seethes, throwing her against the sideboard.

Before she can even think Fred is pressed up against her, pinning Y/N between the sideboard and his body. A hand twists around her hair, pulling hard to yank her head back. “Now you listen to me,” he growls, leaning in to speak against the shell of her ear. “You fuck me and only me, understand?”

“Fred,” Y/N murmurs, voice thick with a mixture of fear and sadness. “Please.”

He yanks her hair, cock twitching at the yelp in pain that leaves her lips. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson, hm?”

Y/N fights against Fred as one of his hands drops to the waistband of her leggings, squirming in a desperate attempt to get away from him. But his grip on her hair is strong, and his hips have her pinned to the sideboard. “Fred, no,” she gasps, skin suddenly exposed to the cool air of the rink.

“No panties,” he coos, nibbling on Y/N’s earlobe. “It’s like you were asking for it.”

With her leggings around her knees Fred places his free hand on the middle of her shoulders, pressing down so Y/N is bent over the sideboard. He finally releases her hair, satisfied that his hand and hips will be able to keep her in place.

“Time for me to show you how a real man claims what’s his.”

Y/N gasps as Fred suddenly sinks his cock in her cunt, hips not stopping until he’s fully buried inside. He barely gives her a moment to adjust to the stretch before he’s pulling his cock out half way and fucking back into her hard.

The only noise in the rink comes from Fred’s labored pants and his belt buckle hitting the sideboard as he sets a brutal pace. Y/N’s hand covers her mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet in the hopes that Fred will just take what he wants and this will all be over soon.

“Fuck, fuck,” Fred groans. Y/N’s cunt clings to his cock like a glove that was made just for him, and the slick noise her pussy makes as he moves is just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Your cunt is unfucking believable,” he praises. “My cunt - isn’t that right sweetheart?” He slaps her ass hard when Y/N only nods - not satisfied with her nonverbal answer. “Who does this fucking cunt belong to Y/N?”

“You,” Y/N sobs out, willing to give Fred anything he wants. “It belongs to you, Fred.”

“Fucking right it does,” Fred grunts in response, pace picking up as he edges closer and closer to his orgasm. “And I’m going to mark this pretty little pussy up so everyone knows it too.”

Y/N lets out a muffled moan as Fred’s cock pulses inside her, her cunt walls throbbing around him as he fills her up with his cum. Her pussy is embarrassingly wet, and she’s afraid to admit that she would have orgasmed too had this encounter lasted any longer.

As Fred catches his breath he slowly pulls out, eyes drawn to Y/N’s pussy and the way his cum starts to slowly drip out of it. “Fuck,” he whispers, using his thumb to capture a drop before it falls so he can push it back into her.

Fred tucks his cock back into his trousers and zips up silently, and Y/N is too afraid to move. Her knees are trembling from a mixture of fear and her almost orgasm, and she can practically feel Fred’s eyes as he stares at her exposed pussy.

“I better not see you talking to Diggory or any other fuck head - understand?”

“Yes,” Y/N responds shakily.

Satisfied with her answer, Fred gives a curt nod before turning to leave. He gives her one last look over his shoulder before heading out of the tunnel - not even bothering to pull her leggings back up. Bad girls don’t deserve chivalry.

When Y/N stumbles out of the guest locker room 45 minutes later, skin pink from her shower, Fred is leaning up against the wall waiting for her. There’s a goofy grin on his face, and soon there is a matching one spreading across hers.

“Baby,” Fred greets as she jumps into his arms, hugging Y/N tight. “That was fucking incredible - I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish.”

She pulls away from the hug, giving Fred a kiss on the cheek. “That’s okay - you can make it up to me at home.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fic #harry potter #harry poter fanfiction #fw #golden

179 notes · View notes

mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year

Text

#1 - Scenario » Dark!Peter Parker

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Kidnapping; NONCON.

AN: Just an idea I had.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

When Peter took you, he truly assumed that you would - eventually - come around and warm up to him.

Peter’s not a bad guy, is he? No.

He doesn’t keep you chained. He doesn’t make you starve. He doesn’t force himself on you. He actually lets you walk around the apartment freely. He plans cute date nights with your favorite movies and snacks. He takes care of you.

He. Does. It. All.

Why? Cause he’s 110% sure that you’re meant to be together, he just knows it. And he wants you to be happy. With him.

Peter gets that being taken away from the comfort of your home can be traumatizing and shocking. He’s understanding about that, he really is.

But it’s really hard to stay positive when you seem determined to shatter the sweet happy dreams he imagines for the two of you. He hates to admit it but you can be a little bitch when you want to.

You destroy the gifts that he lovingly offers you. You enjoy trashing your room (and his). You talk nasty things back. You curse at him. You try to hurt him innumerous times.

It really hurts his feelings.

It breaks his heart when you reject his touch. You can barely manage to utter a few words to him, let alone let him touch you. Like you’re repulsed by him.

You abruptly snatch your arm away from him, moving away to another division whenever he tries to cuddle you. At night, the presence of a pillow wall is mandatory as if you can’t even stand the sight of him.

At first, Peter is deeply hurt, although comprehensive of your situation. Time should heal things. But no. They only get worse.

Peter blames himself for that. Your snappy attitude, the mean behavior. It’s all his fault. Tony also agrees with that, assuring him that had he been more strict with you, none of this would happen.

Slowly, Peter starts to believe in that too. He’s always too nice with you, letting you walk away from misbehaving without any punishment. But he doesn’t want to punish you, he only wants your love and appreciation.

Peter just wants to feel the warmth of your body, he’s desperate for a gesture of affection. He needs it.

Finally he snaps. It was bound to happen one day.

You’re in a bad mood that day and so is Peter. You have a fit, throwing plates to the floor and to the walls, screaming like a banshee. Peter is tired of your attitude, he’s tired from a long day at work and coming home to you acting like a crazy bitch doesn’t help.

He’s tired, moody and exhausted.

You barely have time before he’s pouncing over you, a harsh slap making you yelp. Peter is quick in grabbing you by the hair, dragging you to the room, uncaring of the way you try to kick him away.

Enough is enough.

You want to behave like a bitch? Then you’ll be treated as one cause he no longer has patience for you.

Webs tightly bind your limbs to the bed and Peter jumps on you, ripping your clothes and pushing your panties into your mouth, silencing your pleas.

Your eyes glow with tears, but most importantly, with dread and Peter notices that. He smirks at your frightened reaction. Finally you’re giving him some respect - respect that he deserves.

He slides his hand down your arms, your legs, the smooth skin feeling like heaven and he almost drools at that. You quiver and shake under his touch, completely vulnerable and it feels good. To have you at his mercy, unable to do anything.

Peter kisses your wet cheek, promising to take it easy on you, that he won’t hurt you.

He lies.

The bed violently hits the wall, a result of Peter’s rough thrusts. His stamina never waves down, his desire for you fueling the multiple orgasms he’s already had yet wanting for more.

Beneath him, you’re almost passed out, limbs still glued by his webs. You barely cry, too weak and hurt to keep with your whining.

Peter is not being gentle, fucking you hard so it almost seems like he wants to merge into you, he’s finally unleashing all his frustration.

He fucks you over and over again, the loud sound of skin against skin echoing in the room. Dumping sticky loads of his cum inside you, vigorously abusing your sore hole. He’s insatiable tonight, his hunger for you surpassing any compassion or humanity.

He wants you, he needs you.

When he’s finally had enough, that’s when it hits him what he’s done.

You don’t say a word, a broken look in your eyes, dried tears decorating your face.

Of course Peter feels guilty, you look so sad and gloomy but hey, at least now you’re not fighting him. You let him shower you, unable to fight him back after the assault that he’s put you through, you don’t say a single word, only flinching when he touches you.

And when he takes you back to the bed - after changing the huge mess he’s done - you don’t push him away when he wraps himself around you, sniffing your sweet aroma, his heart content to be so close to you.

Maybe what happened is a good thing.

Maybe now you’ll learn to love him, that’s what Peter thinks to himself as he kisses your hair, falling asleep with you in his arms.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #yandere peter parker #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader #tw: yandere #yandere x reader #tw: noncon #dark fic #dark!fic

886 notes · View notes

magiccath · 7 months

Text

Worst Nightmare

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor is trapped in an alien-induced nightmare, and it's up to reader to save him

a gift for my friend @internet-stranger-says-hi

The Doctor woke up in an unfamiliar bed, panting. He looked around the room, anxiety building within him at his surroundings. He was in a hospital room. He hated hospitals, they gave him the creeps. His eyes searched the room for you, darting around at a shocking speed. It quickly became apparent that you weren’t in the room with him. Where were you? He needed to find you, and quick.

He noticed a small IV strapped to his arm and ripped it out with haste, not bothering to check the damage in his haste. As quick as he could, he threw the bedsheets off, immediately rushing to the door. A sudden tension built within him, harboring a desperate need to find you. He needed you, he always did.

He threw the door open and speed walked out into the hall. As he strode he ran his hands through his hair anxiously, wracking his brain for any memory that might clue him into his current situation. The issue was, he couldn’t remember a single thing. Where he was, why he was there, and most importantly, where you were. The questions piled up, fueling the anxious thoughts within the Time Lord.

He really, truly hated hospitals. He told Rose as much when they visited New-New York. Even the fun little gift shops couldn’t ease the discomfort that they brought him. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His name itself implied hospitals (or at least some kind of medical context), but he just couldn’t do it.

The hallways seemed to go on forever, an endless maze of off-white walls. The pain in his head was accentuated by the bright fluorescent lights, creating a blinding blur around his vision. The putrid smell of disinfectant hung in the air, making his stomach churn.

He tried to outrun the sinking feeling, searching desperately for an exit sign. He ran down hallway after hallway, increasingly desperate for a way out. It never seemed to end, an infinite labyrinth of his nightmares. He called out your name desperately, hoping you were somewhere in the hospital. He received no response, only the unsettling buzz of the lights above his head. It was excruciating.

He began to wonder if he was nothing more than a mouse trapped in a complex maze set up to find the block of cheese. In the end, he didn’t really care if it was a trap, he needed to find you.

He desperately called out your name again, more a plea than anything else. The more he ran through the hospital, the more he was convinced he was truly lost. Every shadow caught his eye, giving him false hope that you were there.

He needed you. So much more than he would ever admit to himself, especially more than he would ever admit to you. Without you, he was scared and lost, and worst of all, he was cruel. He never wanted to be those things. He never wanted to be without you.

He felt tears pickling his eyes, but he refused to cry. He had to shove his own feelings down and find his way out. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain and fear boiling within him, no matter how much it hurt.

He gathered himself and continued on, rushing through the endless halls. He made a mental map of where he was going, trying to ensure that he didn’t run about in circles. He noted the turns, the signs, and the labeled doors. It all seemed futile, resulting in him still running in what felt like circles.

After what felt like multiple gruesome hours, he ran into you. Your face felt like home, and he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you. He held you tightly against him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. From here, he could breathe in your calming scent. He never wanted to move, just wanted to stay here in your arms.

Unfortunately, his reprieve was brief, as you quickly pulled away from him. The warmth of your embrace was quickly replaced by a harsh slap to the face.

“You left me!” You cried - fury etched into your features.

“I lost you!” He argued, using his hand to cover the spot you slapped him. He didn’t understand what was happening, and that upset him. He always knew what was going on.

“You did not,” you huffed, “you left me all alone!”

“I didn’t, I would never do that,” the Doctor pleaded, obviously upset. He truly wouldn't. He needed you, he wanted you.

“I cannot believe you,” you sneered, anger boiling. “I follow you all this time, and the minute I stop being of help you dump me.”

“Please-”

“You’re an absolute monster, y’know,” you spat. The Doctor didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t sure he could say anything.

“The things you have done are completely unforgivable, and I’m tired of pretending they aren’t! You do way more harm than good.”

The Doctor felt tears building in his eyes again, and there was little he could do to stop them. Against his will, they started to fall. You were hitting him in his most vulnerable spots, and it was excruciating. You knew his insecurities better than anyone, and here you were exploiting them.

“You’re arrogant, rude, and a whole new level of selfish,” you continued. The Doctor shook his head like the action might stop your words.

“You don’t deserve to be loved,” you laughed, the sound more cruel than musical like it normally was. The Doctor didn’t want to hear anymore, but that didn’t stop you.

“I really, truly, wholeheartedly, despise you.”

That was the final hit, he was done for. Everything else became so insignificant. His ears started ringing, a pressure that muted everything around him. He knew you were still talking, still yelling at him, but he couldn’t seem to hear it. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps it was heartbreak. Perhaps he was so upset he was regenerating.

“Doctor!” your voice came through his head clearly. But that’s not what your mouth was saying. It was almost as if he had the subtitles on for the wrong show.

“Doctor!” But there it was again, clear as day, your voice calling him, pulling him out of the dark.

His vision blurred, and the scene in front of him faded away into nothingness. He had been violently ripped awake, forcing him back into the present. He sprang upwards, nearly knocking you over in the process. His breaths came in short, painful pants. He felt like his lungs were on fire, and the room around him was blurry and unfocused.

“Doctor!” you cheered a third time, throwing yourself into his arms. He stiffened at the touch, still wary and hurt from your words. What had previously been a comforting action felt more like a stab to the gut.

You pulled away gently, confused by his demeanor. He usually softened at your touch.

“Doctor?” you asked softer, worry clouding your eyes. What had happened to him?

“Where am I?” He gasped, terrified. He felt a lightness in his head like he could pass out at any moment. His eyes darted around the room again, unsure if this was another horrible dream.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, signaling that the aliens who kidnapped the Doctor were near. You supposed it was up to you to get the two of you out of this. A sudden urgency fueled you, and you sprang into action.

“Oh dear,” you rambled, “we need to get you back to the TARDIS, now,” you hauled the Doctor upwards as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

The Doctor was a lot heavier than he looked. You supposed it was due to his impressive height. Nonetheless, he was heavy enough that you had a bit of trouble dragging him back to the ship in a timely manner. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your body, motivating you to move faster.

You lugged the Doctor through the heavy wooden doors before slamming them shut. You fumbled with the lock on the door, your hands shaking. You finally got it closed and breathed a sigh of relief. You slumped back against the doors with another exhausted sigh. You were safe behind the TARDIS doors, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. What if the aliens figured out how to get into the ship? What were you going to do then? The Doctor was the one who got you out of sticky situations like this.

You moved over to where the Doctor lay on the floor and started tapping his cheek, hoping to prod him awake. You needed him to get you to safety. You had done as much as you could, unfortunately, it was up to him now. Frustrated and groggy, he complied, awakening with a groan.

“Doctor,” you whispered, urgently. All you got was a grumble in response. “We need to get out of here,” you urged, eyes darting between him and the door.

He noted the anxiety in your voice and demeanor, the events of the past few hours rushing back to him. He needed to get you out of here.

Begrudgingly, the Doctor pulled himself upright, dragging his hands over his face. Suddenly, a burst of energy flooded him, and he was on his feet. You watched flabbergasted as he ran about the ship, flicking switches, and pressing buttons.

“Doctor?” You asked with a laugh. This wasn’t unusual for him, which was a good sign. He had boundless amounts of energy at all times.

“Yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“Never been better,” he said, but his inflection was off, “thank you.”

You presumed he was thanking you for rescuing him, something he never did. You were still sitting on the floor, legs spread out like a child. You frowned at the ground, wondering what you had done wrong. You racked your brain for something that might explain his upset but came up with nothing.

You pulled yourself up from the floor, confused. You watched the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, the whole time completely ignoring you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning against the console. He didn’t respond and moved away from you. The ship suddenly felt incredibly cold to you. You rubbed your arms subconsciously, trying to comfort yourself.

The TARDIS landed with its usual thump, causing you to wobble slightly on your feet. You tried to catch the Doctor’s eye, but he evaded you.

“Home,” he said matter of factly, gesturing to the doors. His eyes remained trained on the console, refusing to look at you. Was he dismissing you?

“I didn’t ask to go home.”

“You don’t have to stay here.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked, hurt. Maybe he was finally done with you.

“You don’t have to spend time with someone you hate.”

“Do you seriously think that?” you asked, your voice pain-ridden. You had just risked your life to save him. You loved the Doctor, how could he not see that?

“You said it yourself,” he shook his head.

“When?”

“Earlier, when you found me in the hospital,” he still refused to look at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“You made it very clear that I was an unforgivable monster and you truly hated me,” The Doctor finally looked at you, and his gaze felt like daggers.

You scrunched your eyes closed, the pieces finally falling together. Slowly, you opened your eyes, “You got kidnapped by aliens,” you explained simply, “they put you in a dream-induced state and showed you your worst nightmare.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, eyes wide in confusion.

“None of it was real,” you said, completely earnestly.

“I could never hate you. Ever,” you pleaded, “and you are far from a monster.”

The Doctor shook his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Really,” you said, forcing him to look you in the eye. He needed to see you weren’t lying. He needed to see how much you meant to him. That you couldn’t look at him and feel anything but love.

He moved his gaze away from you, staring at the TARDIS console, brow furrowed. You desperately wanted to push your finger between his eyebrows to smooth the worry wrinkle.

“I spent so long not allowing myself love,” he whispered, so light you almost didn’t hear him. “It’s just safer that way,” you didn’t understand why he was telling you this, but you didn’t dare interrupt him.

“And then I met you,” he lifted his head slowly to meet your eyes. It was easy to forget how old he was, how much he had seen. That was until you looked into his eyes. Behind them was so much time and pain that it was almost impossible to look away sometimes.

“As much as I tried to fight it,” he continued, “There was no stopping my feelings for you.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You would never have expected him to say these things, to feel this way. A part of you felt the same and more, but you had always thought it wasn’t a possibility.

“Doctor,” was all you could manage to get out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he blurted out, already turning away. You caught his face with your hand, gently turning him back to you.

“I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my stupid human life,” you whispered, staring deep into his eyes.

“What?” He gasped like the information shocked him.

“I love your sticky-uppy hair,” you said, running your fingers through his locks lightly. “I love your freckles,” you ghosted your fingers around his nose and cheeks next, “I love the smile you get when you figure something out. I love your mind and the wild things it comes up with,” you allowed your hands to rest against his face again. “I love how kind you are, and how deeply you care. I love everything about you, every part of you.”

Somehow you had managed to say exactly what the Doctor needed to hear. Your gentle words and touch melted him to the core.

“Really?” He whispered, still terrified it wasn’t real. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone had said they loved him, let alone listed off a bunch of reasons why.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. Stupid Time Lord.

“Really,” you whispered back, leaning in closer to him.

He smiled lightly and rested his forehead against your own, bringing you closer to him. You nuzzled your nose against his gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a new kind of comfort with the close proximity. After a minute the Doctor slowly closed the last little space between you, finally connecting his lips with yours.

The Doctor was so much better at kissing than you had ever imagined. It put every single kiss to shame, even those on the telly. It was almost as if he was made for you. A perfect fit.

You smiled against his lips, feeling more at home than you ever had in your life. Yes, you could get quite used to this.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #david tennant #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff

395 notes · View notes