#fat burning solution | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sashiavi · 8 months

Text

•·····🍑······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•······🍑·····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁

#18•𝙾𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒•#18

𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ¹.⁵ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

Alhaitham was a meany. That was a fact - not an opinion. At least two people in the whole of Tyvet could agree on that. His two roommates, You and Kaveh.

Alhaitham always had something to say; Mean quips about how "You're not doing it right" when you attempt a task in a way he wouldn't. His passive aggressive notes plastered on communal boards, poking fun at you for the public to see. He'd chastise you for leaving an assignment late, watching as you scramble to pull something together before the deadline - maybe that was warranted. At least he sat with you while you worked, tinkering away at whatever needed to be done. Unlike Kaveh, who had retired for the night and set off to the bar. Alhaitham offered advice and solutions and did his best to seem helpful. He even force fed you coffees and kept you hydrated through the night to assist you in getting through your important project. You appreciated the notion, at least he was being nice for once.

One thing leads to another, as they do. Your project is abandoned and your pretty self sits in Alhaitham's lap, steadily enjoying his company. The wood of the seat below you creaks. You wrap your arms around Alhaitham's neck, pushing your lips closer into his as you roll your hips on his thick cock. His length fills you so good, stretching you out all pliant just for him to enjoy.

His lips are warm on yours, devouring you deliciously while you grind on his cock, pretty pussy gushing sweetly while you ride him. Your time with him went blissfully, his thick cock presses into just the right spots in your cunny. The familiar pulse of arousal burns on your clit, leaving you gushing and throbbing on his length. But. There's something else. A funny feeling in your tummy, unlike the delicious squeeze of an orgasm, something different. Thinking about it, you couldn't recall the last time you had relieved yourself in the bathroom, and you think it was beginning to show..

"H-Haitham… Gotta stop.. Need to.. pee.." Your words wobbled in embarrassment, you were sure your face was redder than a zaytun peach. The man under you halts for barely a second, nearly ignoring you, pulling your hips closer to his own. He elicits a sweet moan from you and raises his eyebrow.

"My sweetheart needs to go? Hmm? Can't possibly leave me like this.. right?" He makes a point of flexing this thick length in your cunt, pressing the fat tip into your sweet, gummy spot. The sweet kiss of his cock is too good to deny, surely you could hold out for him? Just a little longer? You whine shortly, bringing him back into a tender kiss, rolling your hips into his length. It continues for a while, tangling within each other in a hot limbo, sensitive spots squeezed and pressed in just the right way. The feelings bubbles up again, a lot harsher this time.

Gods your tummy felt full and achey, filled up with too much liquid, all those coffees and water breaks were steadily catching up to you. And quick. You whimper, slowing down your movements, finally giving your achey self a needed rest. His thick length flexes as you clench on him, hugging his cock with your gooey cunt in a pitiful attempt to hold your bladder.

"Can feel it.. Gonna pee if I don't- if I don't go~" You whine pathetically into him, steadily squeezing your gushy pussy on his length to avoid spilling and messing in Alhaitham's lap.

"Yeah? Gonna piss and make a mess all over me..? Now why would you do that huh?" Alhaitham tuts and pushes a hard, bullying thrust into you, running an achey spike right up your pussy.

"N-no~ Don't wanna make a mess.." You babble. You flex your thighs on him, squeezing him in to settle your urge to pee.

"Then you better help me cum yeah? Quicker you do that, the quicker you can go.." His brows are pitched upwards, voice light as he shakes his head with his words. His tone tethered on mockery and yet it spurred you on. You bounce on his length, taking him in long, deep presses of your sweet, milky hole.

His palms wrap around your waist, pulling you hard into his lap, pressing his cock into your cervix. His thumbs caress over your tummy, tickling at the smooth, sensitive skin. You give him a whimper, eyes glassy and doughy as you look at him. Alhaitham pouts and hums in mock sympathy, pressing his thumbs hard into your achey tummy, pushing against your sensitive bladder. You moan out wantonly, cunt squeezing his cock in an attempt to hold in your pee. Alhaitham growls, humping his hips up into your cunny, pushing his length into your wet, gummy walls.

"Can't hold it.. not gonna make it" Your pretty voice cries.

"What would Kaveh think if you pee all over the seat? Mess up his silly throw blankets huh?" His hips thrust up meanly, pushing his thumbs against your swollen bladder. Your cunny quivers, aching hard as the familiar burn of your bladder threatens to break. Alhaitham was a meany, always teasing you like this.

"No~ no! Don't wanna make him mad.." It was true, the thought of upsetting Kaveh made your lip wobble - You didn't wanna upset him, didn't wanna put another thing on his overflowing plate.

"Hold it in sweetheart.. be a good girl, hold it until I cum in your pretty pussy, 'kay..? Wanna make me happy right?" His hips grind into yours, catching your aching, stinging clit on his pelvis. You nearly cry, bucking your hips into his cock in an attempt to have him mess up your pussy quicker. His thick length is squeezed sweetly by your quivering pussy. Your bladder burns, aching and cramping in your tummy while you fight to squeeze a orgasm out of Alhaitham's fat, heavy cock.

Through your ministrations, the sweet pulse of an orgasm fires through your aching clit, forcing you to stutter your hips on his. You hump on his thick cock, chasing the sweet, creamy release of tension in your tummy. Something burns with another need for release. You cry as your bladder spasms, threatening to snap and gush over Alhaitham's lap.

Your pee squirts out in pretty little pulses, copying the sweet clench of your orgasm on Alhaitham's cock. You cry and whine, babbling pitiful little sorries as you mess all over his lap. You feel his hands squeeze, his thumbs press hard into your tummy, forcing you to piss all over his lap.

"Nawhh.. Silly little sweetie.. Couldn't hold it in? No?" Alhaitham cuts through, fucking up into your squirting cunt, relishing in the hot splash of piss that dribbles down his heavy balls. Your pee soaks into his half-on trousers, seeping into the seat below, all over the blankets and bedding placed over it. You hiccup little tears as he plows up into your sweet, gushing pussy. Your core quivers and stings, slick with arousal and your own pee.

"Makin' a mess yeah? Pissing all over me? Messing up Kaveh's stuff too..? Thought you could hold it, said so yourself… He's not gonna be happy.." Alhaitham teases, his voice drips with amusement. Your silly string of apologies continues, you even find yourself fucking back into him to prove yourself. To show just how sorry you were. Alhaitham grins and throws his head back, relishing in the soft squeeze of your spent pussy.

"Gonna make me finally cum? Couldn't even wait could you huh… Don't apologize to me.. Leave it for Kaveh.." Alhaitham growls a laugh at the hard clench of your pussy at his name. Alhaitham relishes in it, appreciating the warm mess of your piss in his lap, your sweet babbling form dumb on his cock. He comes close, twiddling with your achey clit while you try and ride him out. You squeal, a pretty squirt piddles from your wet cunt. Gods the sight of you was nearly enough. He bullies you more, forcing you to hump and squeeze and mess over his cock - all while reprimanding you for being such a silly girl.

"..'Haithem..." Your little pitiful whine is what does it. His thick cock pulses in your wet, messy pussy, spurting hot ropes of creamy cum right into your core. He groans out loud, grinding and humping into your clit with every hot pump of his cock, spilling his load right and deep into your cunny, messing you up just as you did to him. You moan and whine prettily in hip lap, clumsily humping against his half hard cock, crying out as his thick cum leaks out of your sweet pussy, joining the warm, wet mess between you.

Alhaitham pets your back, hushing you softly, assuring you that he wasn't mad, that he was just playing. He settles you down, assuring you that no one would be mad, and that you did a good job. You wriggle in his lap, huffing a giggle at the soft squelch of his trousers. You're about to clean up. Not before you hear a soft jingle of keys and the distinct click of the front door opening.

"..'M home~"

I'm sorry that my brain had the audacity to procure this - I'll see myself out 🚪🏃‍♀️💨

This is the first time I've ever really written this sort of thing - pls let me know if you enjoyed 💕

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Ilysm ♡

♡KinkTober Taglist♡

@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny @tericula @omletteattack @maryeehawe @pomeiu @the-massive-simp @himenoakuma @medieval-raccoon @succub-suki @mayberaspberrywrites

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

#ʚ•*°sashiavi's kinktober°*•ɞ #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #afab reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #alhaitham smut #alhaitham genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #kavetham #kavetham x reader

449 notes · View notes

kishibei · 1 year

Text

MOUTH BREATHIN'

shidou ryusei x reader | pwp smut, 18+ | 1.1k words

summary: when your boyfriend's team loses yet another game, you lose your temper. you like to run your mouth and shidou's got just the solution to the problem...

cont: throat fucking, hair pulling, rough sex, degradation, light dacryphilia (?), shidou is mean !!!

shidou doesn't know when to stop. he's never been good at it; knowing how far is too far when it comes to anyone but himself.

your knees hurt more than anything and that jaw he's holding open feels like it's about to unhinge when he tells you to open wider. ryusei's never been gentle, but this feels like it's gonna be his worst— you know it is.

maybe you should've been a little nicer to your boyfriend after his game today; offering him a sweet little kiss and some encouraging words as he walked off the field. but instead, you had yelled, giving him pointers on shit you didn't know two things about.

you realize you should shut your mouth more often, but the time for that introspection is long gone; ryusei's already decided that he'll shut it for you.

...

"ryu! please, i said i was sorry!" you whine, pressing your lips together as the man strokes himself in front of you.

all he does is laugh, tapping his cock against your pursed lips; smearing around the pre that beaded and dripped from its blushy tip. shidou always had a way of making you feel dirty, staining your face with a messy mix of his cum and the lipgloss that once sat pretty on those perfect lips.

you can't help but press your thighs together at that, trying to ignore the desperate clench of your pussy as ryusei grabs a fistful of hair, using it as leverage so that lost and hazy gaze of yours finds his.

"aw c'mon baby, y'know you wanna..." ryusei purrs, long tongue darting out to wet his mouth. he brings his length to your lips again, this time not even bothering to push past them. he knows you'll open up; you always do.

a twisted grin pulls at the corners of shidou's mouth, almost bisecting his face as he watches you part your lips for him. his eyes are trained on the thick threads of saliva that connect the roof of your mouth and the tongue you stick out for him, laughing at just how much you're drooling over this.

shidou doesn't waste any time, shoving his heavy cock down your throat as soon as he's given the opportunity. it's like swallowing lead— the way his weighty length is being forced past your lips and into the wet cavern of your esophagus. you can't breathe, and clutching onto his thighs, you gasp; only making you choke on him even further.

shidou buries himself deeper, smiling as he watches your eyes widen and gloss over; fat, miserable, tears threatening to spill right from them.

"here... since y'know everything, right?" ryusei sneers, gripping the back of your head as his hips snap forcefully. "you can take it, hm? 'cause you're just the best at everything, aren't you?"

shidou lets out a low growl, throwing his head back as you gag on him; the force of your throat constricting around his cock only heightens his pleasure.

you can't take it— breathing heavily from your nose, you nearly hurl; feeling your lunch churn in your stomach from the pressure of it all. bile burns at your chest with how he's fucking your throat now, causing the tears you had tried so hard to hold back to start flowing.

"please, ryu!" you try to squeak out, the words dying in your throat as they're converted into foul gurgles around the man's length. he finds this hilarious, pushing your head down even further until the tip of your nose is buried in the smattering of flaxen hair that covers his pubis.

"still running that mouth?" ryusei teases, pinching your chin between a finger and a thumb. "don't make me fuck it outta you, now!"

your boyfriend doesn't wait for an answer; he knows it's what he's been dying to do from the beginning. so when he gathers you by the hair, unlatching your mouth from his cock— you know it's all been planned, thought out from the very moment you mouthed off at him back at the game.

ryusei practically tears your bottoms off, pouncing on you like some kind of starved animal. it's beyond primal the way he tosses you onto the bed, not caring about how your crown slams against the headboard as he parts your legs. pressing them to your chest, he folds you uncomfortably; the burn of your thighs in this position only makes you wetter, mindlessly gazing up at him now; completely and utterly at his mercy.

you look so stupid under him: blown pupils set in shining eyes, your mouth hung open laxly while drool covered your chin and chest. ryusei chuckles, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt before burying himself deep.

"fuck, you're such a slut! i mean, gettin' this wet off suckin' dick?! how desperate..." he's toying with you now, laughing hysterically as he pushes in until he reaches the hilt, giving you all of him.

you can't help but clamp down on his length as he bottoms out, your cunt fluttering once his hips slammed against yours.

"you like this? getting treated like the little whore you are?!" ryusei laughs. "i'm starting to think you bitch on purpose! just so i can fuck you like this, yea?!"

shidou uses you to his full disposal, chasing his high with the knowledge that no matter what he does, you'll always follow after. he doesn’t let up in the heat of your wanton cries, thumbing at your swollen clit with the sole intention of overwhelming you.

"it's too much! leave me ryusei! i can't...!"

your pleas fall on deaf ears, the man’s pace increasing as his thumbs find purchase in the dips of your hips, guiding you along his shaft with reckless abandon.

he’s good at what he does; knowing exactly what spot to prod at to make you arch into him, how to fuck you dumb, leaving you sobbing and begging for him to give you a break.

ryusei swats your hands away as you try to grab at his wrists, body shaking uncontrollably as you writhe around in pleasure. you're close, he knows you are; the way you're repeating his name like it's the only thing you know is more than telling of the fact.

"ryu... ryusei! ugh, ryu!" is all you can spit out, squeezing your eyes shut as your skin prickles with goosebumps, giving yourself into the height of your pleasure. you whine desperately as you finish, gripping onto ryusei trying to ground yourself.

shidou doesn't let up, still slamming into you as you cum all over his cock. it isn't long until he reaches his own peak, spilling into you with a deep grunt, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

"fuck!" he exclaims, looking down at you with a twisted grin.

"and i'm not even done with you yet..."

1K notes · View notes

lovelybarnes · 1 year

Text

Truth- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: truth serum, ooc (its so hard keeping bucky and a truth serum in the same fic?) About: truth serum, request. (ph1+df31) Forgive for mistakes. why do i kind of hate this now

“Where’s this thing supposed to be again?”

Not missing a beat, you continue to survey the wide lab table in front of you, deft fingers careful when they tilt small vials at an angle so you can squint at the contents. “Things. Where are these things supposed to be.”

“Things, then,” Sam mutters, a fragile clinking noise following.

“Be careful,” you chirp, cocking your head at a thick tube with thick, dark liquid. You hold it up to the light, finally able to read the contents. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“Did you know Hydra made hair nutrients, essentially? This is, like, the evil solution to baldness.”

“You’re kidding,” Sam crows, stepping closer to examine what you’re holding.

“High amounts of minoxidil, some weird fungus, and something that sounds like finasteride on steroids. Also, probably steroids.”

“Bet they could make a fortune on it.”

“If it works in a way approved by the FDA. Like I said, evil solution.” You grimace and set it back on the desk. “Did you find anything yet?”

“No. There’s slime and weird little liquids everywhere but no big-ass, weirdly-shaped tube marked deadly,” Sam grumbles, nose wrinkling as he catches sight of a limp plant. “Do you think that’s a normal dead plant? Or something freaky and poisonous?”

“Probably the latter,” you hum. “And I really, really doubt Hydra would be so stupid as to have the most cliched image of a toxin representing their mysterious poison.” You pause at a large, bumpy glass. “This one is pretty weird,” you say contrastingly, carefully picking it up with two gloved fingers. “Von innen brennt,” you read.

“What does that mean?” Sam asks.

“Burn from within.” You inhale sharply, and tuck it into your chemical storage container. “I really don’t think we should be leaving this in here,” you reason.

“I don’t think we should be leaving anything in here,” Sam adds, pointing to another bottle. “Weltschmerz,” he recites. “What’s that?”

“It’s… it’s apathy. There’s no good translation but it literally means ‘world pain,’” you frown as you grab it, too, twisting it in your fingers. “Bruce and I are going to have a field day.” You tuck it inside the container and purse your lips. “In a morose way.”

Sam shoots you a quick look. “Right.”

You bring your index to your ear and connect to Bucky’s channel. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I fuckin’ hate Hydra.”

“Yeah, it’s not great over here, either. We still have that huge lab to check over; are you done with yours?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

You confirm, scanning the room once more and sighing softly. “Be careful, okay?”

“I am.”

“Then continue,” you quip, narrowing your eyes at a fat bottle with a tiny opening, translucent candy red sticky inside of it. You poke it to teeter so you can see the label, seeing something unintelligible but missing the necessary ideogram. “We’re not even sure what this stuff is yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out the moment you see it,” Bucky comforts. Your face heats up, lips pulled to one side as you avoid Sam’s raised eyebrow.

“Right,” you mumble, straightening up. “Uh, we should probably head over there now.”

“Right,” Sam parrots, long and curved with a smile.

You shoot him a look over your shoulder as you walk out, disconnecting from Bucky before responding. “Shut up.”

“I’m not doing anything!” he argues, hands up in surrender. He follows you out chuckling.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you murmur, shooting him a final glare as you turn a corner into another dull hall. Grimly, you observe the doors you pass them, perking up when you hear familiar muted footsteps ahead.

Bucky catches your eye, lips turning up a little at the sight of you. You catch his pupils flicker down your figure once you’re closer, snagging on a darkened spot right above your right knee.

“I spilled some water,” you explain, fingers dipping unconsciously to brush against the purported area. “No harm done.”

He moves and the ruby tucked in the crevice of his thumbnail catches your eye. Like an instinct, you reach for his hand, a frown pulling on your lips as you observe the small gash on his thumb.

“Hangnail,” he responds to your silent question, rubbing small circles into the side of your palm. “M’okay.”

You’re pleased to affirm so, bumping his shoulder gently after you sneak a glance at Sam. “Okay. How’re you doing, hangnail aside?”

His eyes constellate among your features and he manages some sort of comfort in his expression. “Bored.”

“Great.” Your voice is soft and pleased. He agrees.

You fall silent once again when the intended lab comes into view, Bucky’s large frame stepping half in front of you to prevent you from getting to it first. He pushes the door open before you can, left hand hovering above his weapon as he scans a room already cleared before letting you in, the same fingers that reached for a gun now grazing the small of your back.

Sam raises an eyebrow but remains silent, watching Bucky’s eyes follow you as you head toward the other side of the room to look through a multitude of vials. They don’t waver even after you spare him a reassuring glance crinkled with a tiny smile.

Quietly, he walks over to Bucky, who’s definitely aware of the movement but startles when he leans in close and taps his shoulder. “Strange man-made horror to find,” he reminds. “You can stare later.”

Bucky squares his jaw, metal fingers moving to graze uselessly along the glasses. “I’m aware, Sam.”

“Uh huh.”

It’s nearly silent then, tinged by brittle clinking and quick glances so heavy they seem loud.

Bucky is tired. Sam is tired. Most importantly, you’re tired—and it makes someone like Bucky a little careless.

He’s very sure he won’t be the one who finds the culprit matching Bruce’s description, which means he isn’t as careful as he should be when he ducks his head and inhales something so pungent it’s startling. He flinches back, making the steel shelf teeter. Both his hands shoot out to steady it, flesh fingers bending close to an undulating liquid that spills little bubbles onto his skin, burning sharply into the broken crevices of his nails.

What follows is worse. Clandestinely, a smudged window closes around his brain. It’s subtle and awful, like his mind processes become blurry and slow while outwardly remaining consistent. He keeps himself from stumbling but is sure his eyes round dismally, blinking owlishly as he struggles to catch up with himself.

It all happens in the quick span of a second before he opens his eyes and everything seems normal again, although something tugs thinly from the back of his mind. Super-soldier sanity, he guesses. He looks down at the cause and sees a match, vial open and a dizzyingly clear liquid stationary inside. A red symbol stamps the label, unnamed.

“I think I have something,” he says, cringing at how far away he sounds. Just when he feels the prickling of doubt, everything clicks into agonizingly perfect place. “This might be it.” Unthinkingly, he curves a finger around the neck of the bottle and holds it up.

“Whoa, there,” Sam warns.

You’re next to him fast, taking it away carefully.

“It was open when I found it,” Bucky supplies.

You nod at him distractedly, producing a lid from your pocket to close the beaker and observe it, thankfully protected fingers twisting it around in the light.

“It matches the description,” he adds.

“Yes,” you mumble distractedly, half in response to him and half in thought. “This is it,” you lower it into your transfer box and grin up earnestly at him when you close it, “good job, Bucky.” It’s very sweet.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “S’what is it?”

“I’m not that smart,” you laugh.

Bucky disagrees.

“It’s probably not too dangerous. Not airborne, at least, since it was uncapped like that.” you contemplate a little more, looking back up at Bucky. Your pupils set in a way more calculating. “How close did you get to this? Did you inhale it?”

“No. I don’t think so. I smelled something, but it wasn’t that.” Bucky juts a finger behind him. “Maybe the rotted plant. Probably.”

“Okay.” You say it rounded, edged with lightly veiled concern. “Tell me if you feel weird at all, okay?”

“Of course.”

Sam comes up from behind you, annoyed. “Okay. Are we done here? Can y’all flirt on the jet? I’m hungry.”

“You get so bitter when you’re jealous,” you bite, shooting Bucky a final, doubtful glance before tugging on his hand to leave.

“Am I so transparent,” Sam deadpans.

Bucky contemplates his strange state as he trudges back to the jet, taking quick notice of how dry his mouth has become, his tongue voluble. What he’s hazed with reminds him of oak bar tables and smoke, drunk confidence summery in his chest. He feels fine, he’s sixty-three percent sure. He thinks.

He’s in front of the jet before he can process the journey over, trying to shake away what feels like a creasing tug to his cling film mind. Your eyes are on him, and it looks like it’s not the first time, lashes kissing anxiously. Sam clambers inside, and you wait for Bucky right next to the doors.

“Are you okay?”

“Tired,” he tells you.

You’re about to respond when Sam shouts for you to hurry. Bucky scowls in his general direction, although it dissolves at your amusement.

“It’s okay, c’mon.” You guide him inside, seemingly unbothered as he follows you around like a puppy. “Do you want to take a nap on the way back?”

“Can I sleep on you?” he asks too rawly. You startle subtly with it, but recover quickly, a pale beam on your features.

“Yeah.” You smile at him, entirely saccharine. “Let me just get everything into the containment units.”

He sits in the seat next to your usual spot and stares after you as you walk away, appreciating the concentrated point of your expression as you fiddle with the storage settings.

“Maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” Sam cuts in, slumping next to him.

“I do talk to her,” Bucky argues. “I talk to her all the time. It’s just… she’s pretty.”

Sam struggles for a response for a second. “Oh-kay.”

“Do you really think I’d have a chance?” Bucky finds himself saying, unsure where his mouth has gotten permission to voice his thoughts. He clutches the suddenly few tendrils of control and tries his best to filter his thoughts. It’s too bad he can’t take things back.

Sam gapes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky forces through his teeth, feeling like he wants to puke. Unexpectedly, words feel so much easier to spill out than silence.

Lovely warmth touches his knees. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you, your presence something deftly familiar.

Up close, you’re even more captivating when he finally meets your gaze. He holds back from reaching for you, digging his fingernails into his palm to restrain them from curling around your wrist. He wants you closer.

Your sweet features furrow, sparkly eyes catching on his heated forehead and dilated pupils. “Bucky, are you okay?”

“Can I touch you?” he asks, a little desperate from gating the inclination.

“What?”

“He’s acting weirder than usual,” Sam provides.

“Bucky, sweetheart,” unauthorized, he softens at the nickname, “did you inhale anything? Do you feel okay?”

“Some of it got on me. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. It got on your skin?” You pull on gloves. “Show me where?”

He raises his right hand for you to examine, inhaling sharply when you take notice of the small gash on his thumb again.

“Okay,” you breathe, slowly and then assured. You grab his hand. He blinks. “Come on.” You say, tugging him to the sink and spraying water up to his elbow. “It might’ve entered your bloodstream, we have to wash it out. Sam, call the team, get Bruce working on exactly what it is.” You push Bucky into an isolation unit. “Probably not contagious, probably not deadly,” you mutter to yourself. “We found it nearly half an hour ago. More severe signs would have started by now.”

“It was a level three at worst,” Bucky says, but stays willingly, watching you. “It’s probably one or two. I feel fine, just… uninhibited. Reminds me of getting drunk back then.”

You shake your head, confused, edging on frantic. “Drunk?”

“It hurts to not tell you things.”

“It hurts?” You’ve never felt more helpless, only able to repeat his symptoms in an attempt to inspire some helpful memory from your research.

“More than usual.”

“Bruce says isolation!” Sam calls. “I quote: ‘There’s probably no need, but better safe than sorry.’”

“She knows!” Bucky shouts, eyes on you.

“He sounds fine. Just as annoying,” Sam chatters away to Bruce, and Bucky tunes him out, concentrating on the concerned lines of your face.

“Sam’s worried,” he thinks out loud. “So are you.”

“I am. You’re sweating, Buck.” You examine his face, fingertips bumping into the panel.

“Don’t worry,” he tries to soothe, his own fingers thumping against the separation barrier when he attempts to touch you. “If anything, this is a little bit of a relief. I don’t need Thor.”

You snort lightly. “You’re insane.”

“A little. Not stable, definitely,” he admits.

You hum lowly, biting your bottom lip, pupils quickly inspecting his features. Before Bucky can comment on it, you voice your thoughts. “Okay. I’m gonna test out a theory. I’ll ask you some questions and you just have to answer. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” he answers, then, unnecessarily: “I don’t think it would be if it were anyone else.”

You graciously ignore it, only ducking your chin. “What’s your full name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. But Steve’s right, that sounds a little snotty, doesn’t it? What do you think?”

You laugh. “I like your name. When were you born?”

“March tenth, nineteen-seventeen.” He frowns. “Damn. Just when I was reeling you in with the name thing.”

“Where do you live?” you ask, ignoring his comment.

He prattles off the address to his apartment. “Also you.”

“Me? I’m not…”

“You are,” he interrupts, glancing up at you anxiously. There’s so much he wants to tell you on the tip of his tongue, so much he doesn’t want to be forced to. Not right now. Not like this.

You catch his meaning and move on, eyes thinning accusatorily. “Are you the one who broke my mug?”

“Yes, I knocked it off the table. But it was Sam’s fault, he pushed me into it.”

“I knew it,” you mutter bitterly, leaning back, limbs less tense. “I’m pretty sure we’re dealing with truth serum.”

“That’s not too bad. Considering the options,” Bucky says. “It makes sense. I feel… I want to tell you everything.”

“Effective.”

“Thank you for not asking anything too invasive,” he says.

“I wouldn’t,” you respond.

“This shouldn’t be affecting me,” he continues. “The serum stops the effects. They must have made it stronger.”

You pause. “What?” Then, remembering his situation. “Nothing. Never mind. Do you have any pets?”

“A cat. You know Alpine, she loves you. But I know you like dogs.”

You tilt your head, wanting to ask further, but you stop yourself. “I do like dogs.”

“That’s why I’m getting you a dog for your birthday.”

You beam in surprise. “You are? Wait—”

“I keep looking but I can’t find the right one. I was thinking maybe it’d be better for you to come along, but I was supposed to think about that for a little longer.”

“Sam!” you call. “I feel like I shouldn’t be hearing this,” you confess to him, wringing your fingers in wait for the neutral party.

“No, you’re not supposed to know that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s weird it’s affecting you so much, it must be made for enhanced.”

“You figured it out?” Sam asks.

“Truth serum, I’m pretty sure. Really strong truth serum, from the looks of it.”

“You have to leave,” Sam says immediately.

“What?” you ask, confused for what seems like the millionth time. “No. I want to stay with him.” Your face twists in concern again.

“I want her to stay with me, too,” Bucky adds.

“No, you don’t,” Sam commands. “Who knows… what you might say in front of—” he points at you, enunciating your name with an italic and a gesture. “You should leave,” he turns to you.

“You’re going to take advantage of me,” Bucky accuses.

“Have you been lying to me?” Sam questions. “I am only interested in confirming. Like: did you or did you not break Redwing two months ago—”

“Sam!” you interrupt.

“Come on. Do you know how much food has disappeared? Water bottles dented?”

“I told you that wasn’t me,” Bucky grumbles, leaning against the wall.

“That’s true. That’s what you told me, but what’s true and what you said can be—”

You glare at him. “Stop it.”

He hmphs. “Fine. I’ll settle. He owes me thirty bucks.”

“Whatever. Go make sure everything’s okay up front, I have to give Bucky some meds. Friday, did you activate isolation protocol?” She affirms as you open the door to Bucky’s unit. It’s cold when you step inside, but when you reach Bucky, he’s burning. “Bucky, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He looks up at you, pupils dark and blown. He can’t stop his hand when it lands on you, but you don’t seem to mind, leaning in close enough to his face for him to catch the little details of your face. He clears his throat. “Now I’m a little hot.”

You wipe hair from his sticky forehead, taking a small napkin from your pocket to wipe sweat from his brow. “I can see that. Friday, can you lower the temperature in here?”

“You’re gonna get cold.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you. You can’t ask me to do that.”

You stare down at him worriedly, thumb rubbing gently at his temple. There’s a hiss nearby, and three pills in a little cup stand on the table. You grab them and hand them to Bucky.

“Take these.” You point to the pale tablets, three in a single container. “They’re a precaution and the blue one,” you pinch it to show it to him, “should make this pass a little quicker.”

He takes the blue one first.

“Five minutes ago, we didn’t know what it was,” Bucky says. “You’re amazing.”

“Friday’s amazing. All I do is hand things to you.”

“You’re amazing.”

You chuckle, observing his eyes. Purely clinical. “Okay. You are, too.”

Bucky bites his lip. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. You’re amusing me.”

You look genuinely offended. “Absolutely not.”

Bucky cracks a smile. “You have a tell.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

“It’s in your lips. You purse them a little. Like even you can’t believe yourself.”

You pinch his lips closed with your index and thumb. He stares up at you with wide, blazing eyes.

“I won’t complain,” he says, muffled.

“You should! Don’t be so nice to me, Barnes.”

“I like it better when you call me Bucky.”

“Really? Everyone on the team calls you Barnes.”

“I said you, not the team.”

You let go of him, eyes sorry. Your thumb bends, the bone tracing along his bottom lip. You’re so close. He wants to echo his realization so badly.

“You’re so close.”

“I’m sorry.” You move to take a step back.

“No,” he protests, reaching for you again.

“What?” You laugh.

“I’m in love with you.”

The very first thing he feels is great, overwhelming relief. Like something had been interfering with his breathing and his feeling and his being and it was removed.

And then came the panic, thickened with fear of the consequences of his honesty and very thinly edged with something nicer.

You haven’t moved since he admitted it, pretty features contorted in neutral shock. He wants to know you so well, he can tell if it’s good or bad.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” He gulps, wanting very badly to let go of you but unable to do so. “Does that blue pill make it a lot worse before it gets better?”

You stare at him.

“Say something, please. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t want to—I never wanted to tell you that.”

“Why?” you ask finally. Your brows are knitted, the edges of your features dipped in pain.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

You don’t say anything, but your lips part, the sorrowful border of your features softening. “I… I really want to kiss you right now.”

Bucky freezes. “What?”

Your face heats, pupils flickering away from him. You clear your throat. “But you’re in a vulnerable position right now and I don’t want to take advantage of that. I want you to tell me because you chose to.”

“You’re saying…”

“Yeah.”

Bucky really wants to kiss you too. “Why?”

“Because I think you deserve honesty.”

Bucky really, really wants to kiss you. He cracks an unfiltered smile, although it’s not entirely because of the serum. “Damn.”

“What?” you ask uneasily.

“I’m really fuckin’ lucky.’

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction fluff #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fanfic fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic fluffy #bucky barnes fic funny #bucky barnes fic fluff #bucky barnes fanfic funny #bucky barnes x reader mutual pining #bucky barnes x reader idiots in love #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes request

2K notes · View notes

gemini-sensei · 9 months

Note

Miguel convincing you to have another baby once your first starts kindergarten 🥰 he just loves having a little one in the house and now that Theo kid has started school they have so much quiet time at home. "Just one more please baby let's have another..." 🥵

I feel this in my bones because it's so true! @miguelnation come get your man

After two weeks of having nothing to do at home, especially on days off, he wonders what he's missing in his life. He quickly realizes it's a little one to fill up his time. With his first baby in school, he has nothing to do until he goes to get them and help them with their homework, playing games, and all of the great things they get to do together. So the natural solution to this problem is to have another baby to love.

I can see him just leaving little reminders around the house for his wife to find. Baby shoes and pacifiers, little stuff like that. He drops so many hints until he can't take it anymore and tells her he wants to have another baby.

"Please, mi vida, just one more," he begs softly. They're sitting on the couch, close to each other, and he takes her hands into his. "We should have another baby."

"Is that so?" she snickers, remembering all the little hints he'd left around the house. The most obvious was the box of baby clothes she distinctly remembered marking for donation sitting in the laundry room. "I couldn't tell."

"Can we have another baby, please?" he asks. "I miss having a little one at home, and I think (child's name) would be a great big sibling. Don't you?"

"They do get along well with other children," Reader speaks thoughtfully.

Miguel smiles and nods. "They do. They're so sweet and nice, they already have so many friends. I just know they'll do great with a little sibling."

"Hmm, you think so? And here I thought you wanted the baby, not (child's name)," she teases. She stands up, holding onto his hands and pulling him up with her. "Come on, big guy. Let's go talk about it more in the bedroom."

His ears start to burn. "How would you like to talk about it?"

She walks with a sway in her hips, making sure to show off her fat ass. She knows he's staring at her love handles and thick thighs, just picturing her carrying another baby. "How does Come put a baby, Migs, sound?"

"Like a dream come true," he grunts.

He rushes her and lifts her off her feet, carrying her bridal style. She yelps in surprise, then laughs and throws her arms around him. She kisses him and he takes a moment to kiss her back before walking to their room.

She smiles at him. "Let's make that dream a reality."

279 notes · View notes

fatliberation · 22 days

Note

One exhausting thing about being fat is the endless understanding and forgiveness you have to have to maintain any personal relationships. I overhear my mother saying how disgusted she is by fat Autistics. I’m a fat autistic. I can’t say anything about how deeply hurtful this is without being sensitive. My friend says only fat people will die of covid, so it’s not such a big deal. So I don’t deserve to live? Or the classic:“Ew I’m getting fat”. If you start a fight each time someone around you implies you don’t deserve life or your body is vile, you’ll spend your whole existence arguing.

I empathize with this so much, anon. My family (and some friends) are SO deeply invested in diet culture and fatphobia. I have a parent who is a lobbyist for the pharmaceutical company that sells ozempic and wegovy, and no amount of education or asking for human empathy will change their mind or make them treat me better. It's a hard reality to accept that you can't change everyone's minds. and it is so, so tiring and emotionally exhausting to have to advocate for your existence 24/7. I get burned out doing it too often. The thing is, you don't have to offer endless forgiveness. I'm currently working with my therapist on what to do about this, and the unfortunate solution is to set harsh boundaries (yes, even if they will never understand it or think I am too sensitive, or crazy... it is VERY uncomfortable but I am working on being okay with being misunderstood!) and distance myself from people who refuse to respect said boundaries. Next time my parent berates my food choices, tells me I'm going to die young, or compares me to an anti-vaxxer for not losing weight, I'm removing myself from their presence and tell them these types of comments are driving me away. If they want me in their life, they'll learn to respect me. It hurts, and it's so fucking hard when it's immediate family.

As for non-familial relationships, I've curated my social circle to (mostly) friends who are fat positive and it's one of the best things I could have done for my wellbeing. If I meet a potential friend who starts spitting some fatphobic bull, I avoid hanging out with them from the get-go. I've met most of my fat positive friends in social groups made for fat people, check out facebook groups to see if there's any fat community in your area!

Tbh I have always had this idea of carrying around little pamphlets or cards that are like fat liberation 101 for strangers, I would keep them in my pocket to hand out to someone who says something fatphobic to me so I can avoid confrontation (and exhaustion)... if I made those would you guys want them? 👀

#inbox #fat liberation #fatphobia #anti fat bias #boundaries

138 notes · View notes

earenwen-leafwhisper · 8 months

Text

Not wanted (part 1)

Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Chubby fem reader

Summer : "The silver hair of the prince was blown by the slight breeze, his purplish gaze burned with an anger worthy of his dragon. Y/n although set back could observe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Daemon was in front of her father, Dark sister in hand."

Author’s note: hello, I post the first part of "Not wanted" now, so you don’t wait as much. Part two will probably be published during the week or else it will be two publications on Sunday. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy your reading.

Trigger warning: mistakes have undoubtedly had to pass my vigilance, English not being my mother tongue they will be corrected.

Ao3 profile : Earenwen_Leafwhisper

---

There is a feeling, or will it be instinct, which tells you quietly that you are not wanted in a place, it can happen everywhere, whether in school, in the street, at work, but also in the family.

This feeling grows over time and it is not pleasant, the worst being the evening when the truth comes out. When your father is drunk with all the alcohol he has drunk since the beginning of the afternoon explains to you that you will never be born, that your life you owe to your mother who wanted more than anything in the world a child. That explains, a lot of things, like never having a "congratulations" when you achieve something, or a "I’m proud of you, I love you my daughter". No. Never, just "Did you see how fat you are?" "Stop reading", "Why don’t you read?" , being cut off at every moment, "Shut up!" followed by "Why don’t you answer me?". Little by little, all your self-esteem eventually crumbles, by a member of your closest family. There is also this question, "What would I do alone?" The moments when you imagine running away.

Being born on Westeros is not a dream life, whether we are peasants or nobles, we have our own personal hell. Yours is your father. Although not wanted, your father decided to do something with you, and marrying a second-rate lord was a good solution. His son, born of a first union, was already married to a lady from your region, strengthening the ties of the two families.

His son, he saw it differently, for him he had nothing to reproach himself. But to all the others, he was a frightful asshole, who amused himself by threatening servants and lords of smaller house than yours. Manipulating everyone around you, going so far as to threaten you, morally and physically, explaining clearly, that the day your father died, he would put you at the door of your castle. But you were just a ball and chain. Your father did not want to marry you, at the very beginning, prefer that no one speaks of you or shows interest, waiting for the coming years, he ends up wanting to see you leave with a lord, he could not see you when he was drunk, insulting you with various sentences, more or less painful, explaining that nobody would want you, the least that nothing. Deep down, he was bubbling, refusing to accept that someone was interested in you.

During the various tournaments in which he participated as spectator, he tried to find you a husband in vain, he reproached you, while it was his fault, because no lords had seen you in the flesh. The lords are trying hard to convince him to get you out of the castle, wanting to see who this misterieuse young woman was.

A date was chosen, those of the games organized by Lord Baratheon, for the adoubement of his eldest son.

---

To say that you were surprised would have been an understatement, your father, one morning sober, warned you or rather ordered you to be present at the games organize for the son Baratheon. Your mind worked very quickly, you felt fear mounted within you, your whole body became warm, your heart throbbing, you felt your blood flowing at the level of your temples, your hands became sweatly. With time you had learned not to believe the good news coming from your father because to each of them, hid a dark face, turning against you.

You instinctively understood that something was wrong. He had never wanted you to accompany the "family", you learned to appreciate the fact of not participating in banquets, the only semblance of banquets in which you had participated was in your very young childhood, during which only the houses vassal to yours participated and at the same time make your acquaintance, having seen you as a child at your mother’s side. Whether it was a courtesy visit or in the most difficult moments, you, the child who tried to do well to please his parents, but ended up seeing his father drunk, yelling at the guests who contradicted him on anything, (whether on the land or on the alcohol he ate) and who fell asleep on one of the benches aligned against a wall of the room, a knight winning up to your nurse in order to sleep safely.

As you grew up, you would stay back, observing in the dark the rare events taking place in your castle, seeing from your apartments, your brother’s wedding, do not participate in the festivities. In a sense you were grateful, you did not want to play this open-air play, where false pretenses were common, you could only wish good luck to the servants, knowing more than very well, that their work and reprimands would be much more severe than usual

Now you had to participate, was it a new way to humiliate yourself? To have you away from the castle so that your brother could make it his stronghold and abandon you in a place that you were unknown?

All possible reasons paraded in your mind, not even trying to find optimism in them.

---

The area of your family was quite far from the stromlands, the journey was long and winding, the summer was coming to an end, the roads formed of a mixture of earth and large stones, you avoided the forests anticipate the slightest attack of bandits who could have hidden in the trees and depths of the forest. You were traveling for the first time outside your castle and your father did not want to worry about looting in addition to having you nearby.

There were two carriages, in the first was your father, a mestre and his advisor. You were present in the second, more modest, made only of wood, without ornaments, made of the rest of the wood of an old carriage, a servant was at your side, helping you to sew a new dress, for the dinner in which you and your father would participate, dinner to help you find a husband. «New», was not the right word, you used fabric of old dresses that belonged to you to make your work. The jerky movements of the carriage made it difficult to sew, more than once you had pricked your fingers, fortunately there was no taste of blood spilled.

Your journey was calm, you stayed in the carriage most of the time, leaving only when you had no choice, escorted by your servant and a knight, you avoid your father, who over the days used up the small reserve of wine he took with him when you left. The less alcohol there was and the faster he started to be irritable. The slightest thing that was contrary to his desires was directly criticized, whether it was the singing of birds early in the morning, the wind blowing a little too loudly, or a knight of one’s armor needed to be oiled. Everything was a pretext for his moods, the rare moments when he was sober and asked how you lived the journey, and his drinking crises where he remembered for an eternal time painful moments for all and reproaching you, even if you had nothing in it.

---

After more than a fortnight of travel, you finally arrived on the edge of the ramparts of Storm’s End, gave you the impression of being gloomy, all its shades of dark color, made you think of the tales that your nanny told you before going to sleep. Your servant looked through the opening of the carriage opposite to yours, observing the little distance that separated you from your destination.

"My lady! Look! In the sky!"

Surprised by her sudden change in behavior, you looked, trying to understand why she had reacted in this way.

You squinted slightly, trying to look towards the clouds that were beginning to gather above the stromlands. It was just clouds, nothing new, just big gray clouds with white reflections. Whatever… There you seemed to see a darker point, moving, appearing and disappearing, moving in movements that did not seem to come from the wind. The more you concentrated, the more you had the impression that it was getting bigger and bigger. Your throbbing heart, you didn’t understand what you see.

"Sir Percival, do you see this form moving in the clouds?"

Sir Percival was a knight of of family who was loyal to yours for several generations, long before the conquest of Westeros by Aegon the conqueror. Percival seemed to be close to your father’s age, as far as you could remember, you had always known her. He had always encouraged you when you were a child doing a task that seemed impossible to you, unlike your father who always found subject to criticism.

Sir Percival mounted on his horse’s saddle, lifted his head, you could see from his profile that he was concentrating, you could see fine wrinkles forming in the corner of the eye that you could see.

“It seems Lady Y/n, that it is, a dragon.”

"A dragon?"

“Lady Rhaenys Targaryen is a cousin of the Baratheon House through her mother. It would not surprise me that other Targaryen would have been invited. Although tensions are still high between the two houses, with regard to the iron thrones. "

“Thank you Sir”

"With pleasure Lady Y/n"

When you put your head in the carriage you began to imagine how big the shape could become, what their dragon riders might look like. Lost in your thoughts, you whispered a sweet.

“Dragons…”

---

Tents stood against the ramparts of the city that was facing the castle. The long and heavy linen fabrics covered them, a ballet of color paraded on both sides of the central aisle. Shades of blue, green, yellow and other warm and cold colors contrasted against the walls of an anthracite gray. The tents closest to the doors were intended for the most noble houses and more precisely for their knights, small paths were formed between the tents, taking visitors in the direction of the tents of the vassal houses, whose tents became increasingly modest according to their ranks and riches.

From inside the carriage, you and your servant could smell scents of roasted meats, grilled vegetables and soups. The smells came from the outskirts of the enormous camp, where servants of vassal houses prepared meals on oak tables, suspended above the campfires, stood pots where various soups and stews marinated. Looking from the openings of the carriage, you could see the knights helping from their squires moving armor, swords, masses and shields towards the forges moving from the city to the camp. The noises they heard were a mixture of words, metal clapping, the neighing of horses and clogs clapping on the ground.

The coach stopped slowly arriving at the level of the places defined at the location of the future tents. Your house was not one of the largest houses of Westeros, but had known to keep its independence from the largest houses, bend the knee only in front of the Targaryen house, after several years of fierce war. Some people in your family had kept a deep resentment towards silver hair, prefer to have links with other houses in Westeros, hence their placement. Coming out of the carriage, you looked around, taking the time to remember every moment, knowing that she would risk being married to a person she did not know at the end of the games.

Your house was placed between the Stark and Tully houses. You had never met a person of the two houses, hearing of them only by the few bits of words coming from messenger or by the books about the conquest of Aegon. The people coming out of the main tent of the Stark house were preparing the beds, moving the weapon and armor racks, they too had to arrive shortly before you.

"You do not speak without permission, you do not look a lord or a lady in the eye, keep your head down, and most importantly! Don’t make me ashamed!"

The words of your father came out of your thoughts, since your departure from the castle, he had not spoken to you directly, you understood that he would not speak to you more, and kissed the head you understood that it was the best solution for the moment, no one present knew you except the knights of your house, no one would have stood up for you.

Sir Percival descended from his horse, standing beside you. He put his hand against your shoulder.

"Don’t worry Lady Y/n, I’m here."

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the years under your father’s yoke continue to pressure you.

"Shall I wait here until the tents are up?"

"No my lady, your father allows you to go around the camp, under the supervision of a knight."

"In that case, will you be prepared to accompany Sir Percival?"

"Of course."

Sir Percival, bowed gently in the direction of the young woman, letting his young squire take the reins of his horse, helmet under his arm, the knight began to walk beside the young woman, understanding more than his lord that the young woman needed it.

---

You felt several glances resting on you, despite everything you tried to keep your head high, constantly repeating to you, that your father did not see you, that he could not have concrete proof on your posture. The lord closest to your father looked at Sir Percival, recognizing the knight who at times accompanied Lord Y/f/n, they all watched the young woman round, recognizing for the most observant, the few features she shared with her father. So she was the young woman?

Murmurs began to roam the tents, first of all the less noble houses, clearly understanding that it was their chance to assert their houses in order to win ranks to theirs. The noblest houses were the most reluctant, the lords knew enough Y/f/n to know that your presence was hiding something. Never had your father talked about you, no hint, nothing. You could be legitimate just like a bastard they knew nothing about. A union between the two families by your blood did not guarantee the loyalty of the Y/h/n family, or even your legitimacy. There was still a positive point, your house, was known to have stood up to the Targaryen, it was powerful, but the disadvantage came from one man. Lord Y/f/n Y/h/n. Your father. Who of his problems with alcohol, became one of the most detestable men of Westeros, be it his words invaded with a hatred towards any man not thinking in the same way as him, refusing the slightest annoyance, and his bad manners, he turned and farted without any shame, whether during dinners, the shawl or in interviews when they took place at night.

Some shameless lords were already beginning to want to bring their sons closer, thinking they understood that your father could be overthrown quickly in case of an alliance, but the knight accompanying you watched over the grain, He threw black glances at people who observed too insistently his protégé. Fortunately all the families present were not insistent, greeting you simply out of politeness, resuming their activities just after.

From your walk in the central aisle, you could see the affinities of noble houses from their positions, the north remained mainly between them, the south with the south and then there were some houses that did not remain according to their geolocations on Westeros, But by their wedding rings, the children came and went from tents to tents, laughing at each other in a game that annoyed adults.

Looking at them you felt a slight pinch in the heart, you had never known a real moment of innocence to play with other children except one or two children of servants who ended up punished. Only your nanny and some knights kept you company, trying to alleviate the boredom of the little girl you were.

But of all the looks on you, you could never have imagined that one of them would have made you miss a heartbeat.

---

From both ends of the long alley stood two very large tents, of red and black color. From the location that the house Y/h/n, moving in the direction of the right stood the largest and most flamboyant in its shades of red, it was almost contiguous to the large door, this one raised flags of a red tricephal dragon on a black background. Many knights and servants moved in and around the tent, but no silver heads were visible.

“The king is very weak, he must have sent fighters on his behalf for the games.”

It was Percival, who saw the curiosity in your eyes, had spoken.

“In this case, who owns the second tent? It also carries the dragon.”

Percival concentrated, trying to understand why the Targaryen could have been divided into two parts. The Velaryons stood between the royal tent and the knights fighting under the banner of the Baratheon. In this case, the crown wanted to show that the union between the houses was maintained, although the princess was not the future queen. Who was in the second tent? To this Percival had no answer.

"I’m afraid I don’t know, lady Y/n. "

“It is nothing, we will probably learn in the coming days.”

You were right, when you returned to the tent of your house, you could see the second Targaryen tent grow. Unlike the royal tent, it was mainly composed of linen from a jet black. Two banners in the colors of the Targaryen were placed on both sides of the opening. There was very little movement around, the tent seemed almost deserted.

Almost.

A snap of armor was heard, you turned around at the same time as Percival and saw several knights walking quickly in your direction, Percival just had time to grab your arm and shoot at him, preventing you from being rushed. Slightly under the surprise, you did not pay much attention to the number of knights, or even to the fact that they did not apologize. The only thing that captivated your attention was a hair color that you had never seen beyond book to screen, silver hair, your eyes very easily found those that belonged to the person with silver hair. The purple eyes were almost hypnotic, you never thought possible that it exists, it took you a few seconds to turn away, not without fighting. In front of you, a man who seemed barely older walked, he was dressed in black with small touches of dark red. If at first the man’s gaze was surprised, it was quickly changed by a smirk. You felt your breath stay in your throat, time seemed to you to last an eternity. Although in reality your exchange of gaze did not last more than two minutes.

Percival with his protective arm around you, looked at the man younger than him, he growled. He understood why a second tent was present. Prince Daemon Targaryen would participate in his games, and this no longer in Percival. The prince since the appointment of Viserys as successor to the throne, was in dispute with the royal family, rumors about his adventures in the bordelles spanked numerous as his disrespect for people he did not see as his equal, refusing the arranged marriage with Lady Rhea Royce. The rogue prince was not someone the fathers wanted their daughters to meet. Percival though merely your protector feared that the prince would fall under his spell, not for the punishment he would have had, but he only wanted to protect you.

---

On the first night, Y/f/n ordered his knights and servants to keep you inside your tent, refusing to let you speak to anyone before he begins the bargain of your future marriage. He didn’t want you to undermine his progress, not noticing your look lost in the void.

Although you could not get out of the tent, the servants kept the entrance open allowing everyone to see what was happening outside, finding agreements with the servants of the nearby noble houses to say nothing to their lords.

You were sitting near the entrance and looking out, seeing that the movements of the day had faded by the time the noblest houses had come to the opening dinner of the games. You kept hoping you could see the silver-haired man again before your father came back, but he didn’t seem to have left his tent.

This is what you believed, because under a cloak with the hood up, the young prince was out, wanting to enjoy the night outside the large camp. He saw you from the corner of his eye, a servant was taking care of your hair (long/short, thin/thick, lise/curly/frizzy, etc.) y/hair/c.

Daemon was intrigued, he had already met your father on very rare occasions, as well as your half-brother. Oh more than once, the desire for murder had risen in his mind, he could still bear the Baratheons, but these two men, were detestable. Daemon wondered who this round young woman was, having never heard of her. Something in her attracted him, but he did not know what it was and he did not like it.

---

The night gave way to the days, the first games started at dawn, the archery tournament was on the outskirts of the city, long lines of targets next to each other butted in front of wooden bleachers. Ropes prevented the peasants from meeting the nobles. Your house was divided in two, the closest to the ground you were sitting with your servant, you had to keep your head low, feeling the heavy look of your father in the back, this one was two rows above you.

Daemon, from his place, standing back from the royal family, held a goblet of wine in his left hand, he tried to keep his gaze in the direction of the archers who were advancing, but was without hope. His gaze turned away at the slightest opportunity in your direction, he could see that since night, your posture had changed. From a straight posture, you had bent the spine letting appear some curves that he had not yet seen and which did not displease him, observing what was behind you, he saw Y/f/n, of which the black look was directed in your direction, while he seemed to speak with the lord next to him. Daemon despised this scene.

“You seem to be more interested in the Y/h/n house than in the tournament, my prince.” a lord who Daemon had forgotten the name, just spoken.

"If you please, my prince, it would seem that Lord Y/h/n wishes to bride his daugther although with her age I doubt that the lords are interested, they prefer them younger."

This lord annoyed Daemon, whether by his words or by his innuendo.

“At the same time, what did he think of his daughter, she only whas the second child, and of a second wife, his son will inherit everything.”

The second child… Daemon knew what it was like to be the second, more than anyone else.

---

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x chubby reader #daemon x chubby reader #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction

146 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

girl dad eddie and ollie pop are my favs! 🥹

I came up with such a cute idea that the reader had a fight with Eddie because he did something wrong (some minor thing but the reader is pregnant so she has mood swings and it upset her a lot) Ollie sees that mom is angry with dad, and because they are honest with her feelings and emotions the little girl helps her big dumb dad to apologize to the reader… At the end, Ollie falls asleep between his parents, they all cuddle and just enjoy their adorable family and this moment 🥰

AN | You wanted some more dad!Eddie and Ollie? Well here we are! 🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Eddie?” a sigh escaped your lips as you looked around the pantry and fridge for the things you expected to find. Unfortunately, none of the things you needed were anywhere to be found, “Eddie!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie almost ran into the kitchen, worried that somehow something bad had happened. But when he got there, he only found you, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest. Uh oh. He knew that look all too well - something was wrong. He hated to admit it, but you looked really cute when you were mad, especially now with your belly making it even more adorable, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Where are the groceries?” you gestured vaguely and confusion settled on his features. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, wondering if this was some kind of trick question.

“Umm…the fridge?” he asked as his eyes narrowed in confusion. Judging from the deepening of your frown that was clearly not the right answer; he swallowed thickly.

“Very funny, Edward,” well then. You’d gone and pulled out the full name, “did you not get anything?”

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” There was something admittedly scary about an upset pregnant woman. Especially when that woman happened to be his sweet wife.

“Are you serious?!” you groaned and threw up your arms in frustration, annoyance trickling through your veins. If you hadn’t been five months pregnant, you probably wouldn’t have felt this strong about the situation, but alas. But here you were - five months pregnant and going through a particularly emotional phase right now, “I gave you the list this morning! It had all of the groceries and supplies we need for this weekend and to make those stupid cookies for Ollie’s class!”

“Oh,” the list that was still tucked deeply into his back pocket suddenly felt like it was burning. He add totally spaced on that, “I forgot, sorry honey-”

“You forgot?” you groaned at your husband, “all I asked was that you pick up Ollie from school, go get the groceries and come home. How hard is that to process, Eddie?! At least you remembered to pick up our daughter.”

“Babe, it’s not that big of a deal,” oh no. He should not have said that; he definitely should not have said that at all. It wasn’t like this was his first go around with you being pregnant…you’d have thought that he would have learned by now. This was one of the times he wished that life had a rewind button. He’d go right back to that morning when you first asked him, if anything, at least back until he’d walked into the kitchen.

“Not a big deal,” your lip trembled with effort not to cry; the rational part of your brain knew that you were being silly and there was a simple solution to all of this. The pregnant and tired part of you was not having it, “babe…”

“Not a big deal,” you repeated, taking the tea towel from over your shoulder and tossing it at him. What exactly that was supposed to do, you weren’t sure. It felt right in the moment, “we have to bake those cookies tonight. She’s supposed to bring them to school tomorrow, Edward. And when are we supposed to have time to get all the groceries? Everyone will be here for dinner tomorrow evening and we don’t have time for any of this!”

You were crying now, big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. It was the overwhelming emotion combined with the fact that you weren’t even that mad at Eddie. But you were too stubborn and too pregnant to let it all go. He tried to come closer and pull you into a hug but you shook your head, “sweetheart. I’ll go and get everything right now, the store is open late and it’s not even that late yet. I’ll make the cookies myself so she’ll have them in the morning, okay?”

“No,” you pouted, rubbing at teary eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “it’s not the same!”

“Baby,” Eddie wished he could think of a feasible way to calm you down but he was pretty sure there was no way to do such a thing at this point. All he could do was to try and love on you and reassure you that everything was going to be futile, “it’ll be fine-”

“It was a simple thing,” you sniffled heavily, burrowing your face into your hands. He tentatively put a hand on your shoulder but you flinched out of his touch. You pushed your way past him, heading towards your bedroom to take a moment to calm down. Eddie stood there and watched you go with a confused expression on his face. He had definitely fucked up; he groaned at himself. The last thing he ever wanted to do was upset you, especially when you were pregnant.

“Daddy?” Ollie poked her into the kitchen, a sheepish little smile on her face. He gave her one in return and she padded over to him, wrapping her small around his legs, “what happened with Mommy? She was crying.”

“Ollie Pop,” he crouched down so he was at her eyes level, gently brushing some of her wild curls out of her face. He sighed before thinking about what to tell her. The two of you had always made it a point to be as honest with her, “Mommy was upset with me because I forgot to do something she asked me. I promised her I would do it and I didn’t.”

“Oh,” she looked at him, little brows knitted together, “but you do that all the time. Why was she crying this time?”

Leave it to his daughter to call him out on his forgetfulness. He really wouldn’t have it any other way. He gently touched her cheek, playfully pinching it ever so lightly, “well, princess, right now Mommy’s got your little brother in her tummy and that takes a lot of work and sometimes it makes her a little more emotional.”

“Emotional.” she repeated, “what do you mean?”

“It makes her feel things more strongly and more often,” he explained, “does that make sense?”

“It’s like when I dropped my ice cream last time,” she mused as he nodded, “and I felt all sad.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “like that. But do you remember how sad you were? For Mommy it’s like that, but twice as much. So we have to try and be really gentle with her, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding her little head up and down, “how do we make it better now?”

“Well kid,” he slowly stood back up before picking her up and settling her on his hip, “I think we should go to the grocery store and get everything we need from the list. And then we have to make those cookies that you’re supposed to bring to school tomorrow. What do you think?”

“I think so,” she agreed, and he pressed a cheesy, sloppy kiss to her cheek, “can we make extra cookies for Mommy?”

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” he agreed, “let’s go then, Ollie Pop. No time to lose!”

Eddie tentatively ran upstairs to your bedroom, ready to apologize and grovel, but he found that you were already napping. You were curled up in the comfy chair you like to read in by the window, snoring softly. He came in and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before scribbling a note in the event that you woke up before they were back. The last thing he wanted was for you to have a heart attack thinking that the two of them had run off on you.

Once that was all situated, he made sure your list was in his pocket before he grabbed Ollie and the two of them headed off. Maybe you’d still be annoyed when you woke up, but at least things would be done.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you woke up, after taking an unintentional little nap, it was dark outside, leaving your bedroom cast in only the soft glow from the bedside table lamp. You hadn’t even remembered turning it on. Slowly standing up, you stretched your tired, stiff bones before going back downstairs. You could hear Eddie and Ollie, and smelled something delicious - your heart panged slightly with how you’d overreacted earlier.

The sight that greeted you in the kitchen was enough to make your heart burst with joy. The two of them were at the kitchen table, a plate of cookies between them as they packed the cookies into little cellophane baggies. Almost as if he sensed you, Eddie looked up to find you standing there with a soft smile on your face.

“Hi baby,” he stood up and walked over to you, hesitating for a moment, unsure if you wanted him to touch you. You answered his silent question by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into as much as you could, despite your belly. He let out a small sigh at the feeling of you having you in his arms. He pulled back after a few moments, gently taking your face in his hands, “I’m sorry about earlier. I should have remembered to do what you asked me to do and I shouldn’t have played it off the way I did.”

“‘s okay,” you promised softly, leaning into his soft touch, “I shouldn’t have been so dramatic either. It wasn’t the end of the word even if I made it seem like it. I overreacted.”

“You’re pregnant,” he grinned softly, “your body is going through like a million things at once. You weren’t being dramatic, it’s just-”

“The crazy hormones?” you finished as he nodded sheepishly, “yeah. I, ugh, I didn’t tell you but last week I went to get a coffee on my way to work, spilled the entire thing and had a complete mental breakdown, like ugly sobbing and everything. I think it’s safe to say that yes, the hormones are a little crazy right now.”

“But you’re growing our kid,” he reminded you, “and that’s pretty metal. I think you’re allowed to have and do whatever you want.”

“I’ll remind you of that later,” you whispered in his ear before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You could already see him flushing a pretty shade of pink, “but really, my love, I’m sorry about earlier. I love you.”

“I”m sorry too,” he agreed softly, “and I love you.”

“You went to the store and got everything, didn’t you?” you asked as he nodded, pointing over his shoulder at Ollie who was still happily packing cookies, “and made the cookies. What a wonderful husband and daughter I have. Thank you.”

“We made extra cookies just for you!” Ollie grabbed a cookie off the plate and came over to you, gently holding it out to you. You took it from her before gently combing a hand through his hair, and taking a bite. They were delicious; Eddie was a better baker than he gave himself credit for, “do you like them?”

“I don’t just like them,” you finished the rest of the cookie before beaming at both of them, “I love them. They’re perfect - thank you so much, my loves.”

“You’re welcome,” she looked so pleased with herself as she walked over to the table, “we’re getting them all ready for tomorrow!”

“I can see that,” you turned your attention back to Eddie, who was currently looking at you, all starry-eyed and soft smiled. You mouthed a silent thank you to him, “do you guys want a hand with packing?”

“Yes!” they shouted in unison. They might have been monsters, but at least they were your monsters.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The current situation found you lying in bed under Eddie, his arms caging you in as he leaned down to kiss you dizzy. He was ever so mindful of your belly, despite the fact that it wasn’t very big yet, almost paranoid to hurt in some manner. Neither of you in a rush were for anything, relishing in the touch and taste of the other. He placed soft kisses along every bit of your exposed skin, causing you to sigh dreamily and giggle whenever he hit a ticklish spot.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, slowly working his way back to your lips, “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“Eddie,” your smile was electric as you pulled him back to your lips, “so are you. I love you.”

“I love you,” he nudged his nose against yours, “and you know what else I love? I love e-”

A soft knock came at the door that interrupted the two of you. The two of you exchanged a look before you giggled and he sighed dramatically. He moved off you and off the bed to walk towards the door.

“That’s your daughter with her impeccable timing,” you stuck your tongue out at him as he dramatically clutched at his heart. You dropped your voice so only he could hear, “we’ll finish this later, Daddy.”

He groaned lowly before slowly opening the door to find Ollie on the shoulder side, clutching her stuffed hedgehog tightly.

“What’s wrong Ollie Pop?” he softly as he held open his arms to her. She gratefully let him pick her up, snuggling into his chest as he came back over to the two of you. Ollie wasted no time in settling in between the two of you, allowing you to wipe away some of her big crocodile tears.

“I had a nightmare,” she pouted, snuggling up to Eddie, “can I stay with you tonight?”

You exchanged a quick look with Eddie and he nodded; not that either of you would ever say no to her. Any other plans you had could wait until tomorrow, unfortunate as that might have seemed.

“Of course it can,” he grinned as you made yourself comfortable and snuggled Ollie, “alright ladies, lie back and relax, because you’re about the hear the most epic tale of princesses and dragons you’ve ever heard!”

“Of course,” he promised, tucking her under the blanket and making sure she was all warm and had her favorite stuffed animal, “we’ll make sure you’re all safe and sound.”

“Will you tell me a story?” she looked at him with big eyes as he nodded eagerly. You were pretty sure that Eddie loved story time as much as Ollie did, “can it have dragons and princesses?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #st #dad!eddie

534 notes · View notes