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navybrat817 · 6 months

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Teacher's Pet

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You role-play a bit with Bucky before a costume party. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, role-play, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #6 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Not exactly a costume party with this Stud and Smartie poll winner, but close? @mumbles411, I think you'll appreciate it.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tonight was Tony's Halloween party and it was the perfect excuse to bring one of Bucky's fantasies to life. Months back, he told you about a particular role-play he wanted to try. You, shockingly, didn’t jump him then and there when you asked him to repeat himself, which he did. Right against the shell of your ear.

"I wanna fuck you while you wear a schoolgirl outfit."

Whatever you want, Stud.

You had to admit to yourself, that particular fantasy sounded like fun. You hadn’t thought about fucking any of your teachers before. Had Bucky actually been one of your professors, however, you would’ve been more than willing to cross a line. Who wouldn’t risk it all for him?

You inspected yourself in your mirror with a soft groan as you twirled. You reassured yourself after a moment that you looked good and Bucky would love your costume, if that's what you'd call it. The soft blue cardigan matched one of the shades in the short plaid skirt, which barely covered your ass. The white button-up exposed your midriff, along with the top of your bra, and the knee-high socks provided the finishing touch.

I look sultry, right? No, innocent. Both? Sulocent? Innotry?

With a deep breath, you pushed your door open and left your room to find him.

Oh, fuck.

You weren't sure if you said the words in your head or out loud as you spotted him standing beside the bookshelf in the living room. Everything went quiet in your mind as his gorgeous eyes met yours, but your heart almost raced out of your chest. Instead of his normal work or casual clothes, he had a tight sweater vest over a nice shirt and tie. The outfit made your massive boyfriend look even larger than normal somehow. He even wore a pair of fake glasses to complete his look.

“Well, look at you,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging in a smile as you bit your lip.

Yeah, look at me.

Something predatory in Bucky’s gaze surfaced as he dragged his eyes down the length of your body. You worried initially that the costume was cliche when there were so many others to choose from, but you felt sexy from the way he looked you over. You could’ve worn a hideous costume and he would’ve managed to find a way to compliment you. Tearing your gaze away to glance at the clock, you realized you had time to have some fun together before you had to leave for the party. At least, you hoped he wanted to fool around.

“Professor Barnes,” you breathed, hoping the next words out of your mouth wouldn’t sound ridiculous as you smoothed out your skirt. “Do you have a few minutes to discuss my paper? I want to make sure it’s perfect before I turn it in.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted to experience a bit of role-play before the party, but you wanted to give it to him if he did. The two of you did your best to please one another and it would be something for him to remember for days to come. You would, too.

And I can play it off if he decides he’s not into it, right?

He pushed himself away from the bookshelf to walk toward you, taking slow and deliberate steps as your breath hitched. “Do you normally violate the dress code when you want to discuss a paper? Not what I expect from my top student,” he said, making you swallow as he brushed a finger along one of the buttons on your top. “Or were you just trying to get my attention?”

“I’m going to a party,” you answered, smiling to yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll catch someone’s eye.”

Bucky jaw clenched he stepped closer, forcing you to take a step back with wide eyes. “Is that right? Who said you’ll have time to go to this party?” he asked, backing you up until you were in your bedroom again. “If you really want your paper to be perfect, we’ll have to go through it line by line. That could take quite a bit of time.”

You tried to keep your breathing even as your eyes stayed on him, praying you appeared seductive as you walked backwards until your hips met your desk. “A bit of time? That could take all night, Professor,” you protested, lost in his gaze as he pushed a thigh between your legs.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice quiet and deep as he braced a hand on each side of you. How was it possible for you to come undone when he hadn’t actually touched you? “You still want to be my top student, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” you answered as he leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, not kissing you just yet as you whimpered. Praise from Bucky always spread warmth through your core. “You do want to be my good girl, right?”

A shiver rolled down your spine when he brought his hands up to cup your face. It didn’t matter how he dressed or acted or what games you played. You knew in your heart this was your Bucky, your roommate, your everything. You were his as much as he was yours. So if he wanted you to be his good girl, you’d give him that.

“Yes, Professor,” you whispered.

His mouth hovered over yours before he kissed you, your mouth moving in perfect time with his. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when you inhaled, the touch and smell of him a sensual assault on your senses. The kiss was deep and thorough, a promise of what was to come. It made your head spin when his tongue brushed against yours, your hands flying up to his shoulders because you feared you’d collapse otherwise.

We really might not make it to the party.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough as he backed up enough for you to face your desk. Your body felt hot and needy, desperate as you fell into that familiar pit of need you often found yourself in with him. “And bend over.”

Blood warmed your cheeks as you bent over as instructed, your ass on display. Well, almost. You wore a pair of snug underwear that covered as much of you as possible. No doubt he saw the wet spot that formed and you didn’t have it in yourself to feel embarrassed with how turned on you were.

“I don’t even have to look at your pussy to know how pretty it is,” he said, flipping your skirt up a bit more. “Bet it’ll look even prettier when it’s taking my cock.”

Please, please, please.

“I thought we were going to discuss my paper,” you said, peering over your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that, but I think we should take care of each other first,” he said, making you clench around nothing as he touched your covered slit. “Or was it your goal to make me hard in my pants and go along your way?”

“No, Professor. I wouldn’t tease you,” you promised, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he slid your underwear down to your ankles.

“Of course not because you’re my good girl,” he said, your thighs trembling as he pushed them further apart. “My brilliant, sexy, good girl.”

Your head nearly collapsed against the desk, your eyes squeezing shut. Why did his praise make you feel hot and want to cry at the same time? “I…”

Bucky’s hands froze on your thighs when you sniffled, immediately leaning over you and touching your cheek. “Are you okay? Check in, Smartie. Please,” he said softly.

As if you needed more reasons to love Bucky, the fact that he stopped to make sure you were okay meant the world. “Green, Stud. Very much green. I'm okay. I’m sorry,” you replied after taking a breath, your heart nearly beating out of control. “ The praise just hit me all the sudden. And I just love you so much.”

And here you were trying to do something sexy and fun for him and you ruined the moments with your emotions. The erection in his pants probably faded as soon as you sniffled. Maybe the two of you could leave for the party and try again later.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple where you felt him smile. “First, you don’t need to apologize for getting emotional. Second, I love you, too. So much. And third, we'll only keep going if you want to.”

Your eyes shut, the urge to cry both surfacing again and subsiding at his words. “I didn’t ruin the moment, did I?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“You’d never ruin the moment,” he replied, his lips touching your temple once more as you sighed. “Trust me.”

It was comforting that you could talk to Bucky about what was going on in your head or heart, whether you elaborated or kept it short. Which was why you felt confident again when you opened your eyes and glanced back at him, seeing only love, desire, and something soft in his stare. “In that case, I want you to fuck me bare, Professor.”

Bucky groaned, his soft hair tickling your neck, before he leaned up. He kept a hand on your back like he knew you needed his touch, his other hand quickly working to open his pants. “You think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re at the top of my class?” he asked, easily slipping back into his role. “You think you’ve earned my cock?”

“I can take whatever you give me. And I’ve earned it. I’m your good girl, remember?” you said, your nipples aching through your clothes as he pressed you further into the desk. Fiery shocks and heat went through your body as his finger teased your clit. “Please.”

You whimpered as he moved the digit to your folds, spreading the growing moisture around with a hum. He teased your hole, but didn’t push inside. The slow torture made you quiver and you wondered just how much more begging you had to do.

“Really is a pretty pussy for me to ruin,” he said, finally pushing in with little resistance. Your eyelids fluttered as he slid in and out, but you needed more. “Maybe I should let you go to that party. Send you in there dripping with my seed and show those boys who you belong to.”

“Please, ruin me,” you begged when he pulled his finger out, looking over your shoulder again. He was going to fuck you with the glasses on and the thought had your body going up in flames. Almost as much as the fact that he was stroking his hard cock to the sight of you. “Make me yours, Professor.”

“You’re already mine, baby,” he told you as he lined himself up. “But if I need to come inside you to prove it, so be it.”

You cried out as he thrust into you, the stretch intense and the force hard enough that you had to grip the desk to hold on. Waves of sensations threatened to explode through you at the deep slide of his cock, your body more worked up than you initially thought. You crushed your chest against the hard surface beneath you and you moaned as he pushed in more. There was no doubt in your mind that he was in control.

And you loved every second of it.

“Fuck, I needed this,” he groaned, his hand mapping along your back as you melted under his tender touch. “Should make you ride me wearing this. Put your hands behind your back with my tie.”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant when you moaned, licking and lightly sucking as his hips rocked against yours. The image of you in his lap filled your mind, your hands bound as he helped you bounce up and down on his cock. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he was practically pounding you into your desk and you wondered why you hadn’t worn an outfit like this for him sooner.

“Should keep you under my desk,” he went on, feeling his weight press you down more as he thrust. “Such a smart mouth in class, I know you can use it to keep me warm.”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, trying to push your hips back. He drove harder and deeper, your wet walls on the verge of quivering with bliss. “Please, Professor.”

He chuckled low in your ear, your eyelids fluttering again as you mewled. Your building orgasm threatened to rip through you and you barely registered that you begged for him again. “Already close, aren’t you? And I thought you were a good girl,” he said, his breath hot as he sped up his thrusts. “But bad girls let their professors fuck them bare, don’t they?”

“Y-Yes,” you whined, your eyes starting to roll back when he angled his hips to hit that glorious spot inside you. “Oh- There. There! Please!”

“My good and bad girl,” he grunted, moving faster as you arched your back, needing desperately to come.

“Want you to come in me,” you blurted out, teetering on the edge. Just a bit more and you’d fall. You needed it.

“I’ll come in you when you come for me,” he urged, smiling when he said the words that made you come undone. “You can do it, baby. Make me proud.”

The cry you let out was a decibel you didn’t think you were capable of reaching when you came, succumbing to pleasure as you shivered beneath him. He let out an impressive string of swears as you quivered around him, chasing his end as ecstasy flowed through you. A few more thrusts and he was gone, painting your walls with a growl before he rested his head on the back of your neck, both of you trying to steady your breathing.

You made a sound of protest as he pulled out of you, both because you didn’t want him to leave your body and you didn’t want his release spilling all over the floor. As if he sensed the latter, he pulled your underwear back up your legs. “Hey. I’m here,” he said, carefully guiding you to the bed so you could cuddle together. You were thankful he moved you since you didn’t have the strength to move yourself.

Fuck the party. I can’t walk.

“So,” he said after a minute, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed your back. “You earned an A.”

You giggled when he smiled, the sight making your heart speed up again. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. You were glad he was satisfied. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Don’t thank me. It was fun for both of us,” you said, tracing a heart on his chest. “The glasses really are a nice touch. You should wear them again.”

“Yeah? You like how I look in these?” he asked, adjusting them on his nose.

“I do. You’re always handsome,” you said, his blue eyes crinkling behind the lenses.

“I like looking good for you,” he said, tilting your chin to give you a soft kiss. “And I’m fucking you at the party.”

Oh, Stud. You know how to make a girl feel special.

“You better,” you said, burrowing yourself closer. “But I need a minute before I try to move, Stud.”

“Whatever you want, Smartie,” he whispered, linking your fingers together as he took your hand. “Whatever you want.”

These two will always have a special place in my heart. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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lustlovehart · 1 month

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Hiii! I've never done this before but... What if Scara and reader had a fight... Like a fight fight... and reader was seriously injured due to him being blinded be emotions... What do you think would the aftermath of this...?

A/n: Yet again, another ask that i was originally gonna js give a short thought to, turned into something longer *sigh* (I need to stop doing this).

Summary: [Angst/Comfort]He could never say sorry, even in the moments it mattered.

Warnings: Harm to reader, Scars, Unrealistic Writing of getting hit with lightning,

———

During his time in the fatui, no one exactly had the galls of stopping his rampages. The balladeer is quite famed for his regular intervals of anger, you’re no stranger to it yourself, you’ve seen him mad. it’s just…

Hes never been angry towards you.

You’d get the occasionally scoff every now and then if you uttered something he found foolish, but never has he lashed out at you to such a degree. Not to this level. He’s painfully reminded by his ignorance as soon as his hand crafted eyes lay sight upon your bare form, a body, a human body, covered in scars from lightning. Lightning he inherited, lightning he engaged, lightning he struck you with.

There’s no doubt, the silence is defeaning while you sit with him in the empty room, waiting for one of the medical professionals in the fatui to check on you.

He’s silent. It’s rare. He’s never been quiet for more than 5 minutes with you. He’s either complaining or attempting to make small talk a vast majority of the time, typically the former. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t even stare at you like he always does. You’re about to break the silence before the harbinger breaks it for you.

“You don’t look okay.” He doesn’t look at you, his vision trained on the white tile at his feet.

“Yeah. you struck me with lightning.”

…

“oh.”

It doesn’t hit you until he releases a quiet ‘oh’ from his mouth. Something you probably know better than anyone else that has been on teyvat within his 500 year lifespan.

This man can not say sorry.

“oh? Oh? Kunikuzushi put your pride away for one second.” you don’t try to hide the frustration in your voice. You truly did not mind the eccentricities the puppet in front of you holds, you never did, not even when you first met him.

He still doesn’t answer but you can see the way his face winces and widens in the same moment. Seems he got way too accustomed to ‘Kuni’ and ‘Scara’ to remember that you do in fact remember his given name.

“What else should I say to you? I’ll strike harder next time?” He isn’t getting mad, he was only infuriated earlier, but not now. You can see his demeanor start changing. Whether it be in the direction you want it to go, you’re not sure yet.

“Maybe a sorry? An apology? A “oh forgive me [Name] I love you so much?” He doesn’t answer you, he only scoffs and fall back onto the back of his chair. You don’t miss the way his fingers dig into the cloth of his clothing, probably using it as a replacement for human skin.

The man can’t breathe, but you can hear him inhale and exhale before his next words.

“i don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to- well not at you.” It comes out softer than the other words hes said to you the entire period of time in the room. His eyes are finally off the floor, trying their best to maintain contact with your own.

Once again, all thats left between the space of you two, is silence. You look away from him for a moment, fiddling with the blanket draped over your legs. You’d like to assume that’s the closest you’ll get to an ‘I’m sorry from him’, but you can’t accept that, so you don’t reply. Ever since waking up, you never were able to see the scars on your body, only the ones on your arms. You wonder if they look hideous.

Your hand reaches behind you to your back, your fingers grazing whatever part you assume suffers scarring.

“Are you worried about how it looks?”

“No, not at all, fighting is commonplace in the fatui.”

“Lying isn’t good, you told me that yourself didn’t you?” Damn him and his pristine memory. You can never remember where you leave your keys yet he can remember things you’ve said to him years ago?

…

“No matter how scarred and beaten you are you’re still [Name] are you not?” With the way he’s looking at you, you’re sure this is another thing he’d want to keep out of the publics knowledge. “Even without your face i’d strike someone down for you in an instant.”

“Oh like you did to me?”

“…” Seems the sweet moment was ruined. You don’t mind though, it’s funny to you.

———

The weeks that followed still held some tension. You’d refused to see him for awhile. When asked by some trembling lower subordinate, one in which the harbinger had personally sent, why you weren’t seeing him, your reply made the soldier fear for his own downfall.

“He’s insufferable right now. I’ll talk to him when he shows me he’s not a man child who can’t admit his faults.” You’ve always been able to put up with his outbursts, but right now, you realize maybe you should turn up your attitude with him.

After that unfortunate event, not unfortunate for you, for the fatuss, your days have seemingly been more dull. You’ve forgotten just how eccentric the balladeer is. Waking up never seemed so boring, the puppet would either be by your side in the early mornings, or knocking on the door ready to whisk you away.

Seems that routine is coming back.

“Oh? Have you finally swallowed your ego-“

“I’m sorry.”

Seems he couldn’t go any longer without you, how sweet.

———

Tagging this, I was super confused if this could be characterized as angst w/ comfort or fluff. I just did both though.

#scara when reader used his full government name:#Reader: Kunikuzushi. Scara: 😨#genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #genshin impact x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #angst/comfort #wanderer angst #genshin angst #vesperwrites

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theship-thewalrus · 1 year

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Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen wife. Where she's ignores him because she pregnant and thinks he dosnt want kids?

Hi Anon!! I enjoyed writing this and hope it is what you have been looking for :)

aemond targaryen x targaryen! wife! reader

pretty much the ask

word count: 852 words reading time: about 4 minutes warnings: none

Pregnancy was not something that can be hidden forever, eventually, the bump would become too noticeable. People will begin to whisper, and eyes will be drawn to your midsection. But you couldn't tell Aemond, but you knew it must be soon. Each passing moment is a moment someone else may tell him. The Maester may attempt to graduate him, a maid who overheard it may begin to spread the gossip. But you needed time, just a little more.

Spending time in the library was not something you did all that often, preferring the fresh air you could gain from the garden. Yet, when you needed comfort, a warm and homey place to hide away. Protecting you from the pressures of the outside world, even just for a moment. You had been ignoring your husband as of late, hiding away from him in the hopes he would not find you. It was not that you disliked the man, quite the opposite, as he was handsome and kind, caring for you in his own way.

But the prospect of a child was not something the pair of you have ever discussed Of course, it was a part of your duty to produce a child to carry on his family line. Yet, he never pushed you for a child, never doing anything you did not want to. Something you would always be thankful for that, knowing someone else may have not been as understanding.

Approaching footsteps were heard from behind you, assuming it was a maid you did not react. Continuing to read the book you had on your lap, not even bothering to look up. "Is this where you have been hiding?" Aemond voice shocked you, thought you should have guessed your husband would not take kindly to your hiding away. He would find you eventually and demand an answer.

"I have not been hiding my dear husband." You say softly closing your book and resting it against your stomach, as though it was going to do anything to hide it. Aemond's eye scans over you, taking in your appearance. As though he was trying to read you at the moment, to figure out what was the matter before you tell him. There were thousands of possibilities of why you were hiding from him.

Perhaps you had grown tired of him, no longer wanting to see his hideous scars. Perhaps you have a lover, someone on the guard that can give you everything he can not. Such insecurities always plagued his mind, something he could not shake as he heard the whispers in the hall.

"Do not lie to me." His words were cold but not harsh, they were never harsh with you. Despite it all, you were his wife and it was his duty to protect and care for you. Looking up at him with wide eyes you knew you must come clean. You could see the worry in his eyes and the questions on the tip of his tongue.

"I fear if I tell you why I am here, you may wish I stayed hiding away." Your voice held fear, Aemond was quick to pick up on it. Taking your hand in his, he gave it a gentle squeeze trying to reassure you in some capacity. He hated to hear the fear in your voice, fear of his reaction to what you are hiding from him. He thought he made it clear you could tell him anything, no matter what it was.

"Tell me what worries you, my love." Sitting down beside you, he takes you in his arms. Shielding you from the world and anything that is upsetting you. Smelting into his embrace you allow his warm arms to ground you, giving you time to wrap your brain around your thoughts. Silence enveloped both of you for a moment, allowing the crackle of the fire to provide background noise.

"...I-I... I am with child," you say softly, shifting slightly to look up at him, wanting to see his reaction before he opens his mouth and simply tells you. Maybe he would tell you a lie, but his eye always gave him away. It was a window into what he truly thought about things.

For a moment his face showed nothing, he said nothing. Simply digesting the information you had just told him. But a small smile stretches over his face. It was wonderful news. He had always wanted a family with you, to see you swell with his babe. He could not fathom why you would be fearful to tell him. "This is glorious news. Why would you not tell me?" He asks softly, not holding any anger or frustration directed at you.

"Because... I thought you would not want a child." Aemond scoffs at your words, shaking his head. "Of course, I want a child with you. This is wonderful news." A smile forms on your face, one that mirrors his own. For a moment, you felt silly for thinking that he would not want this child. Of course, he would have wanted a child, your fear was simply misplaced.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond imagines #aemond x reader #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagines

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junipers-archive · 1 year

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Power-Outage

Word Count: 1.2k

Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend

Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?

It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-

"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.

Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-

"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer

"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"

You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.

"Spence you still there?"

"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?

"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.

And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.

"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"

The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.

"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."

Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"

There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.

Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"

Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?

"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"

He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

You admit defeat.

"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.

But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"

He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.

And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-

"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."

You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.

You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.

You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.

With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?

You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.

You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.

This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!

That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.

You called him at 2 in the morning.

And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.

This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"

You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"

"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.

"You...want to...build a fort?"

"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.

And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."

And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.

He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.

By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.

But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.

While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.

He was your light.

He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.

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dejwrites · 2 years

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ make up⠀ 〳 ⠀ j.todd ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) even after a harsh argument, he still finds his way back at your door.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reading discretion is advised: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy, written with black reader in mind, same y/n & jason from this one shot, profanity, angst (implied argument between reader and jason), mentions of bruises/cuts, jason meets reader's parents in this, him asking whose is it was extremely self indulgent ok, pet names (baby, listen you guys can't unclench this pet name out my hand when it comes to jason), mentions of children, reader and jason make up after an argument in reader's childhood bedroom lol, soft smut yay, oral (f.receiving), missionary position, i guess slight mating press positon, breeding kink (try to unclench this kink away from and i'll bite you), wc: 3.6k, minors dni pls

YOUR ARGUMENTS NEVER DRAGGED OUT LIKE THIS. They were always little and ended with mumbled apologies and hush kisses after heated words. However, this argument left the most hideous knot in your stomach whenever your mind wandered off to think about it. You never went over two days not speaking to your boyfriend Jason, it was never in the both of your nature to not at least hear each other voice. Even if it was for a split second, the two of you always found a way to talk to each other. Perhaps that's why these past couple of days have been rough for you.

A simple disagreement about communication was an explosive time bomb that caused you to question where your own relationship stood at the moment. You found your eyes watering thinking about how upset Jason was before storming out of your apartment. The sound of the door slamming still played in your head like a horrendous loop of a chilling Halloween tune. One day turned into two days and two days turned into three—still no word of him. Your pride not wanting to message him since you weren't even sure he understood why you were so frustrated at him.

"Hey sweetheart, I can't wait until you and Jason get here. I know you said, he didn't have any specific request for dinner tonight, but I think I went a little overboard" You remembered your mom saying before you left to venture towards your childhood home.

You had forgotten all about Jason meeting your parents this weekend. You couldn't even come up with an excuse on why he wasn't coming. If you told them that you and he were taking a break, your parents would most likely not like him. So, here you were showing up with just yourself and some excuse on behalf of Jason. Maybe you can say his grandfather got sick? Had to babysit his younger brother? Anything to avoid any other curious questions from your parents. Praying that within your time of not seeing them for a while, they would no longer be able to read you like a book similar to when you were a teenager.

However, the time has come, and here you were sitting at the dinner table—alone and with silence swallowing you and your parents up bit by bit. You sipped at your wine nervously before it was your mom addressing the elephant in the room of your missing boyfriend that you spent the past couple of weeks gloating about how excited you were for him to finally meet them. Your mother's lips parted to speak, but the sound of the doorbell interjected in her concerning words for you.

"I'll get it," Your father firmly said before he's standing to go answer the door.

As soon as your father was out of sight, your mom leaned over a bit to get a closer look at you. She took note of the way you were avoiding her direct eye contact, "Sweetie, did something happen between you and Jason?" Her hands reach over to caress your hand.

"You know you can speak to me about anything," She comforts you like the way she did during your first high school breakup.

You were trying so hard not to cry. Your eyes were aching to let a tear finally come tumbling down your cheeks simply because you missed him. But the sound of a familiar laugh causes your head to snap towards the entry of the dining room. There he stood with a black eye a bruised lip and that stupid grin he always gives you. Jason Todd.

"I apologize for being late," Jason says as he placed a kiss on the top of your head before taking the seat next to you at the dinner table.f

You could tell that your mom was suspicious of Jason, her eyes darting from you who had plastered a smile on your face, and back to Jason. He managed to butter your father up with some joke and an expensive bottle of scotch you were sure Jason probably snagged from Bruce when Alfred wasn't around. "I just got caught up with work." He says.

Your mom darkly chuckles. You wanted to mentally roll your eyes at the way the kind sweet welcome basket-making mom went away with a quickness. Now, the protective mother lion attempting to protect her cub demeanor was on. "Work? Huh? What exactly do you do?" She asks.

"Jesus! At least let the kid put food on his plate first." Your dad sighs with a head shake.

Jason returned the chuckle and gave your mom a grin. You weren't sure what excuse he was going to give her. You just knew the true occupation would have your parents banning you were seeing Jason as if you were Rapunzel herself.

Jason motions to the bruises that decorated his face like a used art canvas. "Boxing." He said with a grin.

You watched your mom shift in her seat. It was as if she was searching for if he was telling the truth or not. You wanted to tell her that this trick only worked on yourself and your father, but you just sat back passing whatever food Jason's eyes lit up seeing. After all, your mom did cook all of this for him. As soon as his plate was full, he dug it. He had a quite large appetite.

"So, are you pro or trying to become pro?" Your father asked as he was eating also.

You knew anything about sports would get your dad excited. He used to coach your high school basketball team.

"I'm trying to, hence the fact that I was late. I want to apologize again for that, I know this was very important for you two and Y/N." His eyes glances over you before you could feel him grabbing your hand under the table.

Could he sense that you were beyond out of it at the moment? Your mind was racing with so many questions? He just showed up after the two of you haven't talked for days. Eating with your family like the two of you haven't shared severe words towards each other.

"No need to apologize, she seems happy that you came and that's all that matters." Your mom answered before her lips finally curve into a smile. "She talks so much about you that we just had to meet the guy that has our daughter so lovestruck in Gotham." She pushes around the vegetables on her plate.

"Hopefully, she has only told you good things," Jason says.

"You know the usual. He's so cute. I really think I love him. We'll make such cute babies...the usual things." Your mom says.

"I didn't say the last thing." You said out loud.

"So, you don't think you and I will make cute babies?" Jason playfully nudges your shoulder. "Come on, they'll have the most cutest nose because they'll have your nose and my eyes." He says with a grin.

There goes that grin again. That grin causes your body to instantly heat up and all the blood to rush to your cheeks. Despite being so confused about the situation, you still returned the smile that you were trying so hard to hold back. "I didn't say that. It's just, I haven't mentioned anything about babies to her. The other statements are true though."

Jason laughs, "I know."

You could feel the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your palm. How can he make you feel at home even though you were technically in your childhood home? He made you feel so safe and cherished.

The night went on with Jason wooing the hearts of your parents. He had a drink with your father in your father's study, most likely giving Jason the somewhat-threatening threat in case Jason broke your heart. Jason even helped your mom put away the leftover food that was left. As soon as the moon peaked through the curtains of the house, it was time for everyone to call it a night. You got ready for bed after showering, most likely settling in bed to go to sleep. You knew your mom would purposely have her book club ladies at the house the following morning just so she can show off her future son-in-law.

As you were in bed reading a book, you could hear Jason come into your room after showering. He's rubbing a towel through his damp dark locs while a white towel was wrapped around his waist hiding away his lower half you have seen countless times. You hated to admit that your curious eyes glanced up from the romanticized words in your book to peek at him while he was looking through his suitcase for something to wear to bed. Droplets of water staining his toned chest followed by the glorious site of happy trail—that went so well with the well-sculptured v-line that was on display.

Your lip grazed at your chapstick-covered lips before you realized you were staring. You quickly averted your eyes back to your book, but your attention was tugged away once again due to Jason's words.

"I'm sorry, that argument we had was so fuckin' stupid." He admitted. His back was turned from you, but you knew he had a look of regret on his face. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"It's okay. I figured you were sorry as soon as you came here. If you wouldn't have shown up, I would have assumed our relationship was done." You truthfully admitted.

Jason turned around and the look of horror that was on his face caught you off guard. You could even see his lip twitch in annoyance at you even thinking about the mere thought of you two breaking up. "Please, never think about something like that." He takes a couple of steps to be by your side.

"We'll figure it out, we'll talk it out. That's what we do." He firmly said.

And that was true. Every argument, you two figured it out. You sat down and communicated with each other. Perhaps this argument just got a little too heated due to the overwhelming amounts of stress on both ends. With Jason and his Red Hood activities and your life at work, it was bound for both of you two explode like a ticking time bomb. You just exploded at each other though.

“I know.” Your voice trails off as you looked down. Finally realizing that your argument was silly, could have been resolved if the two of you weren’t so stubborn.

Jason’s tall stature is hovering over you before he’s lifting your face up to look at him. “Don’t have such a down face.” He’s leaning down peppering your face with subtle kisses gaining a giggle from you.

"Jason, stop! Your towel is going to drop." You said through your faint giggles.

"Let it," Jason responded before he entrapped your lips.

His kiss forced you to fall back on your bed, your body pushing yourself further on it to give Jason space to climb on top of you, which he did with a quickness while being sure to not squish you with his weight. Through subtle breaks between the kisses, you’re mumbling against Jason’s lips. “I missed you so much.”

It was true. The days without him not being next to you in bed felt empty & quiet. You missed the warmth of being in his arms after a long day. You missed his soft grumbles while he was sleeping so close to you not wanting to let go. You just missed him.

“We miss you too baby,” Jason spoke back against your lips.

His tongue is stained with the taste of mint toothpaste traces alongside the outline of your lower lip. You could even feel him grind against you a bit, feeling the imprint of his hardened cock against the inside of your thigh. That’s what he meant when he said we.

Your hand slipped between the two of your bodies, gracefully brushing against his heated skin to tug the towel down. Your hand grazed against his hardened cock causing him to tug away to let out a relaxed sigh. Jason begins to kiss your neck, indulging in the scent of you that he missed so much. His hand grabbed ahead of yours which was so desperate to make him feel good. He pinned them above your head and kissed his way back to your kiss-swollen lips.

He mumbles against your delicate skin, "I want to make you feel good."

His callous fingertips danced down your body until they found their way into your underwear. The oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Jason was pushed up just so he could have better access to you and what was his. He hooked his fingers upon your underwear to tug them down your smooth legs. Tossing the piece of fabric so carelessly behind him before he kneeled down. His hand tugged you closer to the edge of the bed. His lips pressed teasing kisses on the inside of your thigh.

He was so eager to get a taste of you and you could tell by how eager his kisses got as he got closer to your drooling cunt. You relaxed under his touch when you finally felt his face fully in between your thighs. Your breath instantly hitched in your throat feeling the way Jason's tongue glided against your puffy lips. Your hand instantly went to grasp for his hair as felt the wet kisses upon your sensitive bud. "Jason, stop the teasin' please." You whimpered out.

You gained a hum from your boyfriend as he made direct eye contact while he was letting the flat of his tongue collect all your juices before he was back paying attention to his task. His eyes closed as if he wanted to focus on making sure you came. Each time you attempted to squirm away from him, his arms only pinned you back down forcing you to endure him. After all, he hasn't had a taste of you in a while—it's the least you could do.

As soon as you felt his tongue trace alongside your sopping entrance of your pussy, you felt yourself rocking upon his face in the most pornographic manner. You prompt yourself up on your shoulder assuring Jason how well he was making you feel. The fiery pit that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was slowly approaching. The only thing you could let out was the moans that encourage Jason some more. "Don't stop Jason, I'm so close." You panted out.

As soon as he heard them words, Jason's tongue begin to rapidly flicker at your clit. He insert his index and middle fingers and his dick appeared to grow harder feeling how wet you were. His fingers weren't shy to make you feel just as good as his mouth. He was sure to pump them inside you at the pace you loved. He felt you tighten around his finger, but that didn't stop Jason from removing himself from between your thighs. Your body shook so violently while your hips rocked against Jason riding out your drastic orgasm. You exhaled sharply letting out a dragged-out moan of pleasure and as soon as Jason's mouth was no longer on you—you felt so empty.

"Gosh, you look so beautiful like this," said Jason as he was letting his tongue glide across his lips collecting any more of you that stained his mouth.

Jason was a very passionate lover at times. It all depended on his mood and the situation. Tonight, you couldn't tell which side you were going to get. But from the way he left you a panting disaster after being in between your thighs—you knew he wanted to prove something to you. Perhaps he missed you during the days you two weren't speaking. As Jason climbed on top of you, his hand lining himself up at your soaked entrance, his tip that oozed with precum teasingly brushed against you.

Before your lips parted to mumble a sarcastic complaint, Jason's cock shoved its way inside you bit by bit shutting you up completely. Your head sank into the pillow under your head and your hand flew up to grasp at Jason, "It's okay baby, you just haven't had my dick in you in a while." He cooed down at you.

By his cocky tone, you weren't sure if he was praising you or mocking you. He leaned down to pepper your face with soft kisses, "I'm going to start movin', okay?" He adds.

Jason begins to move slowly. He didn't want to hurt you or anything, so until now his strokes were slow and steady. It kinda felt like the first time you two had made love. You remembered the vivid memory of when Jason first said I love you. It took you by shock because you weren't even sure he meant it. However, the way he made love to you that night proved it.

With each move of his hips, Jason gained a moan from you. From broken gasp to subtle mumbles of his name, he was putting his all into making sure you felt good. Most likely putting his own pleasure on the backburning just to hear you coo out his name a little louder in the night. When Jason heard your hush moan encouraging him to go faster, he did what he was told like the perfect boyfriend he was.

His pace quickened causing the headboard to your bed to knock against the wall. You were glad your parent's room was down the hall, but you did remember on some nights your mom would leave the master bedroom to get tea when she couldn't sleep. Hopefully, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights.

"Fuck, you feel so good." Jason groaned out.

He tugged his cock out fully and his eyes darkened at the sight of your slick covering his cock. He pushed himself back inside your addicting cunt as if it was the missing puzzle piece to a puzzle. The feeling of you wrapped around him was like an intoxicating drug he couldn't get enough of. Without a word, Jason hooked his muscular arms under your thighs to form the lewdest mating press position.

You were completely trapped under Jason due to each time his hips pushed forward he was bottoming down inside you. The sound of skin slapping against each other echoed the room alongside your broken moans of his name.

"Whose pussy is this?" Jason questioned. Each syllable that passed by his lips, he rammed his hips into your harder.

Usually, you would spit out some bratty comment to get a rise out of the dark-haired male, but tonight in the heat of the moment—you're desperately and proudly moaning out that it was his and only his.

With your legs hooked under Jason's arm, your eyes lolly in the back of your head each time his hips pushed forward. Your pedicured toes curled with each kiss his cock pressed against your cervix. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his limbs grasping to want to intertwine your bodies some more.

"I'm going to cum Jay," You moaned out. A single tear glides down your flushed cheeks.

You finally were able to meet Jason's intense stare. Sweat droplets decorated his forehead and chiseled chest. His face was shaded with the color read through the intense session of passionate sex. "Go ahead and cum. Let it all out, baby." He says.

Jason could feel your thighs quivering under his arms and that caused him to drop them immediately—returning to the ardent missionary position the two of you were previously in. His strokes were slow and sensual. A sign that he was so close to being a cumming mess just like you. His hand went down to rub at your throbbing clit in a circular motion. It was quite amazing how well, Jason knew your body. From the way your lips gasped apart or the way your eyebrows crinkled together—he knew that you were so close to clutching around his cock and that's all that mattered to him right now.

The pleasurable feeling of you pulsing around him drives him to the edge. The grasp he had on you grew a bit tighter and his strokes were a tad bit sloppier. Just a matter of time, he could feel his balls grow heavier. A string of profanity words with a mixture of whines rolled off his tongue as if it was a foreign language. He could feel his body grow hotter due to the load of cum he just released. Just as the vigilante was about to pull out hesitantly due to the overwhelming power of your pussy clutching around him perfectly, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The heel to your feet pressed against his lower back as you trapped him into a kiss indulging in the mess below your waist. The both of you are forced to ride out each other high from makeup sex until your bodies finally gave out on you.

Jason's body collapsed next to yours, you and Jason were completely exhausted while your dazed eyes stared at the white-colored ceiling. Your brain felt like mush while your body still was processing what had just happened.

"You think your parents heard us?" Jason broke the thick silence between the two of you.

"If my mom starts showing you my baby hand-me-downs in the morning, then yes." You rolled over to cuddle against him. Your head promptly laid on his chest as you felt him kiss the top of your head.

"Good thing I didn't pull out then."

TAGS — @maydayaisha @shamelesshoefairy @eiflawriting @lostwanderr @stunnababyyabyyy @bunnyyamor @endeavours-jockstrap @hllokttyairhead @aasouthteranoswife @godessofbucky @cybervei @everstoneluna @scabsaint @saintblk @heejayy @prettyboyyuji @polyqueen101 @diorlov3er @dior-fawn @celestialuffy @venusflytrapstar @cookiemonsterboss @blackwolfqueenzz @trunichole15 @yooniluvbot444 @smileyy-cakee @deeliciious @putridstares @obitohno @aotwarriorsimp @renjiluvermain @spookyblackwitch

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x female reader #jason todd smut #dc x black reader #dc x reader #jason todd x black reader #x black reader #female reader #dc comics smut #dc comics x black reader #dc comics x reader #jason x reader #red hood x reader

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thot-writes · 7 months

Text

MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!! *slams fists on the table* I DEMAND MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!!!!

how astarion would treat his werewolf gf (SFW);

Astarion is not as surprised as one might’ve expected him to be. he’s likely had a lot of experience with lycanthropes of all kinds through Cazador (that bitch)

when you’re revealed to be a werewolf, the cogs in his mind are already turning for suggestive jokes he can make about it

you actually hear him (thanks to your superior hearing) in front of his tent mumbling them to himself as he workshops them

“‘Every good dog deserves a bone…’ hm… no, that sounds too seedy. Maybe… ‘if you’re a good little pup I’ll give you a… treat’? Gods, why is this so much harder than I thought?”

you have to cover your mouth to stop your hideous snickering. hearing his process on his meticulously crafted persona is simply too cute

you always end up turning the lines back onto him anyways. after all, if you’re the dog but he’s the one on all fours and begging, what does that make him?

astarion is a little disappointed that you can never wear silver, and he tells you so. it burns you to the touch, but also it would look so good on your gorgeous skin— isn’t a little bit of pain worth it for the fashion?

you throw garlic cloves at him for suggesting it. luckily for him the tadpole negates what damage that would normally do.

loves the bloodthirst. he’ll cheer you on when you’re getting worked up & rabid during battles

occasionally you’ll have bouts where all you crave is extreme violence. it’s quite manageable, they normally only happen when a full moon is close or when you’re in the middle of a particularly nasty fight.

one time, you tackled a man who’d targeted astarion and bit half his face off. you don’t even know why you did it, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time— and your adrenaline was running too fast for you to stop and think for a second

if astarion’s heart was still beating, he was sure it would’ve fluttered at that moment. seeing you defend him with such aggression was so… romantic

he had to resist the urge to pull you in for a kiss. at least while you still had the man’s face-skin in your mouth (did you eat it or spit it out?)

as your relationship shifts less from lust and more to love, he starts to express concerns over the darker parts of your curse.

astarion knows that while lycanthropy has a cure they’re often hard to find— and you’ve little interest in one at this point anyway. but doesn’t mean that doesn’t mean he can’t help you in other ways

when a full moon is coming and a horrific, agonising transformation is upon you, astarion stays by your side and tries to alleviate the pain by showing you have his support

after attempts of trying stronger and stronger pain-killing elixirs failed to make much of a difference, he decided that perhaps just being there with you was the better option

he’s by your side and resting your head on his lap, stroking your hair and offering the occasional word of encouragement

when it’s time to transform you get magically restrained and even still, he remains. sometimes he passes the hours with reading or embroidery, sometimes he tries to talk with you to see if you’re still in there

he hopes by doing this that you’ll learn to retain some control over yourself and you won’t need to be restrained each full moon. and it’s kind of working! once, he managed to calm you down enough to give you a little pat on the head— and that’s enough proof for him that you can best the beast

you’re not entirely sure if you believe him when he tells you that though

and as if astarion needed yet another reason to hate the gur, now he has one.

as a monster, they’ll be just as likely to hunt you. he won’t let them.

even if you have no strong feelings for the gur, astarion is brimming with more than enough spite and vitriol for both of you.

honestly, being a werewolf has made you two even closer than before. you can relate on certain issues now— you’re both bloodthirsty monsters, capable of losing all sense of control and reason, and when night falls is when the people of faerun should be the most fearful— for the night is your personal hunting ground.

astarion is very supportive of a lycanthrope partner (much like he is with a durge one) and will not judge you for it. when your control lapses, he reins you in, when you’re dealing with the pain of a pre and post-transformation, he helps you through it.

on the surface, you’re two fearsome, monstrous beasts that would send an average person running— but beneath, you’re two people madly in love, trying to temper the negative effects of your respective curses. for each other.

#YES IM A FAN OF WEREWOLF/VAMPIRE PAIRINGS WHYYYY DO U ASK #I CANT HELP IT!!! THEYRE SO CUTE!!#my posts #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate iii tav #baldurs gate x reader #reader insert #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #fluff #astarion headcanons #werewolf x vampire #vampire x werewolf #gender neutral reader #astarion #astarion ancunin

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argentiluver · 10 months

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“Chu-Chu!” || Jealous! Chuuya Nakahara x G/N Reader - Bungou Stray Dogs

Warnings: Just some mild swearing (it’s literally chuuya), that’s pretty much it.

Chuuya grit his teeth as he watches you hug a plushie of him tightly, completely forgetting about his presence for the 5th time today. He already felt like ripping that stupid stuffed toy apart and throwing it out the window.

How dare that thing take his rightful place…? It should be HIM you’re hugging, not some damn plushie!

You were only sitting beside him with the Chuuya plushie held close to your chest, causing the actual Chuuya to narrow his blue eyes at the thing that was stealing your attention away from him.

You wouldn’t pay Chuuya any mind or attention the entire night due to your consistent coddling towards the plushie as you held it close to your chest.

“Goddammit, when are they going to throw that toy away already…?” He thought to himself with an almost envious scowl, glaring at the plushie in your arms.

Chuuya hated to admit it, but he was jealous...Jealous that stupid plushie of him you sewed got more attention from you than you give him him. You barely paid him any mind, only paying attention to the cute plushie instead, and it infuriated him.

The plushie even looked exactly like him. The orange hair, the grey tux, the fedora hat, the coat, it just looked more cotton-like and small.

Well...Small-er.

Chuuya remained quiet and took another sip of his cold drink. His gaze fixated on you until he finally clicked his tongue in frustration and slammed his drink down quite angrily.

“I'll tear that thing to shreds, maybe they'll finally acknowledge my damn existence..." He mumbled to himself with a scowl, voice low enough for you not to hear him.

Before you could even react, Chuuya abruptly snatched the plushie from your arms, glaring down at the thing that was slowly poisoning your mind.

You gasped, startled by the sudden snatch and spun your head towards the source, only to see your boyfriend holding the plushie in his grasp tightly, "Chu-Chu!" You cried dramatically, trying to grab it yet Chuuya held it far away for you not to touch it.

"Chu-Chu...?" Chuuya repeated in disbelief with a glare sent to you. He slowly raised his free hand, the other holding the plushie securely, and pointed it at you, then he started to speak up again in a harsh tone.

"You've got some nerve..." He began with a cold stare, "You don't even speak to me at all. But when it comes to this ugly piece of cotton, you're willing to yell it's name out loud?! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?!"

"It's not ugly, Chuuya! It's cute!" You gasped dramatically at your boyfriend, offended by his words as you continued to try and grab the plushie that just had a small, unwavering smile on it's face.

"It's hideous!"

"IT'S ADORABLE!"

Chuuya lowered down the hand holding the plushie, turning the other way while rubbing the bridge of his nose with an exhale leaving him.

"And what about me?" He then asked with a frown, turning to face you, "Am I not handsome? Do I not deserve your acknowledgment? Do you know how stupid it is when you give a goddamn toy more affection then you give me?"

You were clearly taken aback by his words as your brows furrowed and your hand dropped onto your lap.

"What are you—" You cut yourself off suddenly as a smirk slowly spread across your face, "Are you jealous...Of a plushie, Chuuya...?"

Chuuya stiffened at your words, a blush creeping on his cheeks, and he went silent for a moment before he looked back at you with narrowed eyes. He was thinking on whether to tell the truth or not, but he had already said too much.

"Yeah? So what?" He glared, holding the plushie in his lap with a firm grip, "You've been paying more attention to a sack of cotton more than you have been me! Of course I'm upset!" Despite how defensive he's being, he still looked pretty embarrassed and even tried to not make eye-contact with you.

You only laughed, throwing your head back against your chair, causing Chuuya to grumble.

“You're seriously jealous over Chu-Chu?” You snickered, trying to contain your laughter.

"Quit calling it Chu-Chu like it's a human being!" Chuuya demands, slamming his hands on the table, dropping Chu-Chu in the process to which you quickly caught with your foot and bounced it back up in your lap.

You finally stopped laughing, but your grin was still visible on your face as you fixed your position in your seat. You couldn’t believe this was the same Port Mafia executive who would kill someone heartlessly with cold blood, “Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll put Chu-Chu to the side, then we can cuddle and you can have all the affection you deserved!" You grinned wider and put Chu-Chu on the table in-front of the red lounge sofa, spreading your arms out for him to enter.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes skeptically as he stared at your open arms, he was still annoyed but you knew he couldn't say no either. He slowly approached you, not saying a word and he eventually sat on your lap and wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't know how I got such a ridiculous lover." He said as he buried his face on your shoulder, "You can be such an idiot sometimes...Yet, I can't stop loving you."

The fact he was calling you ridiculous despite getting jealous over a plushie, and was only calmed down by cuddles was pretty ironic, but you decided not to say anything.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too..." You instead giggled, leaning your head against his and holding him closer. Chuuya smiled lightly against your shoulder at your words, a light blush spreading over his cheeks which you didn’t seem to notice.

The two stayed silent for awhile as they laid in each-other's arms peacefully before you suddenly broke it.

"Can Chu-Chu cuddle with us?” You asked sweetly, blinking your eyes in an innocent matter.

Chuuya was about to object, but sighed and glanced at the plushie for a moment before he looked back at you as if you were a child asking for a toy.

"Alright, the toy can join us," He said grumpily, "for now..." He added which came out as a mumble.

You grinned and reached over to grab Chu-Chu, placing him in between you and Chuuya before going back to cuddling with him.

After a few more minutes, Chuuya could hear your soft breathing and snores against his chest, and he took that as his chance to kick the plushie off the couch and away from them.

He held his leg up and swiftly kicked it directly where it’s face was located, causing the plushie to collapse on the ground with a soft thud!

A triumphant smirk spread across Chuuya’s face as he watched Chu-Chu lay flat on the ground like a starfish, the smile still on it’s face.

“Serves you right, little bastard…”

Live laugh love Chu-Chu, he does no wrong 🫶🫶 and I made this while my cat was laying in-between my legs, BUT HE WON’T MOVE AND I’LL FEEL TOO BAD IF I GET UP 😭😭

the chuuya plushie in question:

saw this plushie on ebay and I immediately thought of making this

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x you #chuuya x reader #jealous chuuya #plushies #bsd #bungou stray dogs #ily chuuya #jealous #gn reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #chuuya fluff

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obriengf · 4 months

Text

Forbidden Cloth || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: Stiles uncovers a strong disdain for Ugly Christmas Sweaters. Words: 1k Warnings: just stiles being cute af so don't read if you're not into that Notes: guys i rambled so much in this

hope he's bringing me love this christmas cause i deserve you here ✩

"Do you like my sweater?" Your voice carried such sweetness; an innocence that made a young man's heart swell with an overwhelming warmth. With that tone, you could get away with whatever you wanted and he would be right behind you, following every move, your cheerleader for life. You stood in his kitchen doorway, arms stretched between the dark wooden arches, a sense of 'ta-da' shown on the high upturn of your smile and showman's stance. And Stiles would have happily played along - singing your praises, throwing compliments - if it wasn't for the hideous fabric gracing your frame. His face dropped; speechlessness weighing down his tongue, brows furrowed and head tilted as he was truly lost with what to say. Your sweater soon absorbed every ounce of his focus and Stiles hated it. Truly, absolutely hated it. His jaw moved as words gathered yet remained unspoken, until, in candid Stiles' fashion, he let his mouth run before he could think it through, "What the hell is that?" Your brows furrowed, only mildly taken aback by his outright and unfiltered way of finally speaking. You hummed, "What are you on about?" Your question was rhetorical, to you at least, knowing full well that the itchy and bright bundle of fabric that you wore was anything but appealing. But you couldn't help yourself - messing around with the awkward mess that was your boyfriend was something that never failed to put a smile on your face. With pursed lips, you gazed down at your sweater, trying your hardest to not visibly cringe at the exaggerated embellishments. You hummed once more as faux naiveness contorted your features, "You don't like my sweater, baby?"

"I-I..." Stiles mumbled, trepidation sneaking inside his thoughts, trying to convince him to avoid offence. But the thing about Stiles Stilinski, even though he is the epitome of support and determination, he also has a bad habit of forgetting to filter his opinions before they escape his busy mind. "Like it? But it's so... so ugly."

It was quick when you saw his eyes widen; large warm irises of brown complementing his raised brows and ajar jaw. It was as if the mere second the words left his lips, Stiles realised what he said, and how much trouble he could be in. A deer caught in headlights, frozen and unmoving despite the rapid racing of his heart as it reverberated in his chest. He was potentially, and utterly, screwed.

"Wait, you think it's ugly?" You repeated his words, shot them straight back with a delicate timbre as your hands ran down the sides of the mismatched patterned wool. Stiles was looking worried now, and your capacity for games was wearing thin when you could see how he was beginning to pale. You managed a chuckle, filled with light and sincerity, as you began making your way toward him, "Good thing that was the whole point."

He watched you snort, his face dumbfounded, amusement breaking at the seams as his brows rose and the corners of his lips lifted in absolute puzzlement. His body was tense as he had braced himself for the blowback of how his unfiltered words could have caused harm, how they could have made you sad and insecure. He would never hurt you, not intentionally, and the guilt was hasty when it seeped deep into his bones and set every alert and emotion alight.

But now he was staring at you and that beautiful smile that was burnt in the back of his mind - living there rent-free, happily, most likely for the rest of his life. And by god, did it make him smile back with just as much joviality.

"I-I don't... baby, if you don't like it, why are you wearing it?" His words laughed but remained quiet as you got closer. It took everything for him to not come face to face with the bright and retched cloth in front of him as he opted to instead stand, eventually towering over your shorter frame, his hands large and delicate as they cupped your cheeks so habitually. Thumbs rubbed tentatively against skin; the touch was barely felt, but it was enough to provoke a red blush to gather where Stiles trailed.

You went to speak but froze in place - his childish gaze making you melt into the backdrop of your Christmas-covered apartment, always so mesmerised after all this time spent together. He had an effect on you, and he seemed to know it by the way his eyes had a mischievous glint that complemented well with his bitten lip.

"It's a thing, wearing ugly sweaters for Christmas." You breathed as your hands pressed to his chest, maintaining some sort of stability as he continued to courteously invade your space. His head tilted as he once did before, curiosity in the form of large puppy eyes and relaxed brows now contorting his features. It made you laugh within your word's undertones, "I've seen people do it on social media and it's cute, you know? Couples wearing matching sweaters -"

"You got me one too?" Stiles intercepted, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice. He loved you, so much, probably too much, but just the idea of wearing something as off-putting as your own sweater was something that made him cringe. "There's no way that you're gonna get me in one of those, sweetheart. I'd burn down the world for you, hell, I'd help you bury a body, but I'm not doing this ugly sweater thing."

He put his metaphorical foot down, but you saw no harm. If there was one thing that you admired so incredibly much about Stiles Stilinski, it would be his outright honesty - sometimes confused for an unfiltered mess, but you loved it regardless. You smiled up at him and he smiled back, unspoken understanding building the foundation of your relationship and it made the man lean down and press a gentle peck to your forehead.

His lips dragged down to your cheeks, your lips, under your ear before he whispered against your sensitive skin, "Alright, now go take that hideous thing off, and that cute little skirt while you're at it."

#dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf fic #teen wolf imagine #obriengfchristmas

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eeulysian · 3 months

Note

Hello! I hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night! If it's ok, could I ask for some Uni (Path to Nowhere) smut headcanons? I love her so much, if not dating headcanons are also fine! Thank you! :>

⟡ . DATING UNI HEADCANONS

summary: uni x afab!reader, how it's like to date her

cw: also involves smut hcs, uses of strap ons, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation and praise, dirty talk, a little bit of mommy kink

a/n: sorry this took so long!! i wasn't too sure on how to write it out since i wasn't too familiar with uni, but i researched about her so i hope it isn't too ooc 💗

SFW

✦ you didn't know how you even managed to pull her... uni was a little apathetic and snarky compared to most of the sinners in the bureau, so you were quite confused. you're glad you're in a relationship with this beautiful woman though, she was eye candy indeed.

✦ she may say some rude things to the other sinners which makes them furious, but you're there to calm the commotion down and get her to apologise to them. you tell them that she doesn't call others 'hideous' or 'ugly' for no reason, since she thinks that people who are considered 'ugly' are unique in their own way.

✦ but you think it's best for her to just... not come up to people and say those kinds of words to them. it may cause another argument in the future, and you don't want the bureau to become the next WWE even though it's full of dangerous criminals already. she understands and apologizes for causing a commotion. you two ended up cuddling in bed, and she promised that she wont do anything bad again.

✦ she's not very good at expressing her emotions, but she tries to show you her love with small simple gestures like holding your hand or caressing your hair. if you don't really like pda, she makes sure she doesn't do it too much to be careful to not push you out of your comfort zone. if you do like pda or you don't mind, she'll gladly snake her arm around your waist, or give you a kiss infront of the other sinners. that way, she'll be able to let you know she loves you (and sometimes just wants to show you off to other people). after all, actions speak more than words. she's the moon and you're her sun.

NSFW

✦ you can bet that she's either a rough dom or a service top. maybe even both depending on her mood. when she goes rough, she'll be sure to make you see stars and scream her name as loud as you can. constantly thrusting in and out of your tight, squelching pussy with her 8 inch purple strap on. if she wants to be even more rough, she'd be pulling your hair or even choking you. she does make sure to not accidentally hurt you, the "choking" in general isn't too harsh, fortunately.

✦ and during rough sex, she would even blurt out degrading names, calling you a "slut" or a "needy whore", constantly begging for her to let you cum. in the end she would only edge you and tease you, not always letting you have your way.

✦ when she does feel like being a service top though, expect her to fuck you slow and deep, letting you feel her strap, inch by inch, with full glory. she's also skilled with her tongue and fingers, the same way she is with her strap on.

✦ you'd be sitting on her face, grinding on her tongue running through your walls. or you'd even be on the bed, letting her fingers explore your pulsing walls while you suck on her nipples, telling you that you're doing great and that you're such a good, obedient girl.

✦ one time you accidentally called her 'mommy' when she was edging you, you were pleading to her to let you cum and that it's been enough edging and teasing, but you accidentally... blurted out that word for some reason. she smirked at you, knowing the effect she has on you. oh you just knew your legs will feel like jelly the next morning.

#path to nowhere #ptn #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere smut #path to nowhere x reader #uni x reader #path to nowhere uni #ptn uni #ptn x reader #ptn imagines

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dufferpuffer · 8 days

Note

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

#severus snape #hp #headcannons

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peachyjinx · 8 months

Text

On the Edge- Ch 1- Pent Up

Word count: 2300

Summary: You're having trouble bringing yourself to orgasm, and and being around Loki isn't helping...

Day 7

You huffed in annoyance, the sheen of sweat dripping down your forehead onto the pillow. You had been trying to orgasm for over an hour now, but it was elusive. You've never had problems with this before, and especially not recently.

For the last couple of months, all it took was 15 minutes thinking about Loki while you pleasured yourself and you were tumbling into ecstasy. Tonight you had thought about a joke he had made at Tony’s expense. The way he said it with a wry smile and a wink he shot you in front of everyone made your cheeks burn. He always lit you on fire, either when you were around him or in the privacy of your own bed. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn't come.

Your mind continued to dwell on Loki as you gave up on your missing orgasm and walked to your bathroom, running the shower, and thinking about your unsated lust. He had been with the Avengers over a year longer than you, but he still didn’t quite fit in. His sharp wit with his backhanded compliments to the others made you blush. His devious eyes would flash to yours, and sometimes you felt like he was showing off just for you. Recently, you found that you couldn’t contain yourself around him and began to flirt back.

But then you reminded yourself that Loki flirted with everyone. You'd even seen him jokingly make a pass at Steve, much to Steve’s horror. Steve immediately turned beet red and left the room, with Loki left cackling behind him while you tried to contain your own laughter in front of the others.

Your mind drifts more as you wash yourself absentmindedly. Not just to his mischievous nature, but to his body…that tall, strong build with a swagger that was unmatched by any human you knew and made you weak in the knees. Those intense blue eyes that always seem to be hiding his true thoughts. That sharp jawline that made you want to walk up to him and bite it while you twisted your fingers in his hair…

Okay, that's enough. No more thinking about Loki tonight.

You finish your shower and climb back into bed, with fresh soft pajamas cooling your skin.

Maybe I'm just tired. I just got home from a mission, and my body just isn't ready.

Your mind wanders to the last time you masturbated. When did you come last? A week ago.

It’ll be fine, I’m just tired, you assure yourself.

You roll over and turn on your tv in your bedroom as you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~

You slowly followed Nat into the conference room for the post mission meeting, the members of your team grumbling at the audacity of Steve’s 6 am assembly.

Your eyes casually glanced around the room and landed on Loki. He looked as bored as he always does in these meetings. He thinks they are a waste of time, and makes no attempt to hide his disdain.

What was it he said that one time?

“The trials of battle are meant to be discussed over a feast and surrounded by loose companions, not in a hideous board room with poor quality breakfast foods!,” Loki spat at Steve at one particularly boring recap meeting as he dramatically left the room.

You grin to yourself as you doodle in your notes, trying not to look up at the other attendees sitting down- Nat, Clint, and Loki.

It was extra hard to avoid looking at Loki this morning, he had his hair in a loose bun, with little wisps of black tendrils framing his face. He dressed in his casual Earth clothes, which still managed to make you feel underdressed around him. His clothes were always the best that money can buy, and perfectly tailored to his form. Even though he's supposed to “blend in” on Earth, he still looked every bit the rich Prince from another world that he is.

You zoned out as you watched Steve talk in the front of the room, not thinking about anything in particular.

“...we obtained the data we needed, so kudos to everyone on the team,” Steve congratulated his exhausted audience with a professional smile.

“But it’s important that even though we came out unscathed, our mission wasn’t without its flaws. I’m of course speaking about the incident at the bar,” Steve continued in a casual, but firm tone.

All eyes look to Loki, who's staring at the ceiling. Sensing the room’s focus on him, he lowers his jaw down and his blue eyes scan the faces of those around the table with a sly grin.

“Just say what’s on your mind, Captain”, Loki feigns annoyance, though you could tell he was enjoying the attention.

“We almost didn’t get the information we needed because you were obviously distracted. Do I need to read all of my notes?,” Steve shot back, trying to maintain his casual demeanor.

“Did we get the information or not?” Loki nonchalantly replied to Steve, looking around the table to discern what his teammates thought.

“If it weren’t for Nat and Clint’s quick thinking, you could’ve compromised everything!”, Steve raised his voice, gesturing with the file in his hand.

“It was just a bit of fun,” Loki smiled to himself, raising his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

“Loki, you started hitting on some random woman in the bar! If Nat and I hadn’t intervened, we could’ve gotten the attention of the Hydra agents in there! Hell, she could’ve been one!”, Clint glared at Loki from across the table. He never hid his dislike for the God, but it didn’t bother Loki.

“Well I think your missions- and your team- are incredibly dull. You need to liven things up,” Loki mocked, sitting straighter in his chair now, his devious grin looking for someone to challenge him.

You didn’t speak up. It had been hard enough watching Loki woo a gorgeous woman at the bar, his hands trailing her back while she giggled and played with her cocktail straw. He had laid it on thick, you vividly remembered the way he leaned in close to her while whispering in her ear…

Your attention snapped back to the meeting and watching your teammates argue. When these guys fought, it was best to just stay out of it.

“Loki, you nearly started a bar fight when her boyfriend came back!”, Nat was now raising her voice, glaring at him with Clint.

“You asked the God of Chaos to join your team- what did you expect?! It’s in my nature!,” he smiled and his attention turned to you.

“And what do you think?”, Loki shifted, leaning forward to look at you with his hands clasped on the desk. You felt heat on your cheeks as he inquisitively looked at you. It felt like his beautiful eyes pierced into your soul, his complete focus on you feeling like too much and not enough at the same time. You looked up at Steve, hoping to stay neutral even though you weren’t.

“Well, I think it was a dick move by Loki. But he's right, what do you guys expect? And we got the facility location and completed the reconnaissance successfully. So what does it matter that he almost started shit? He probably would have fixed it with his magic anyways…”, you trailed off, looking between Steve and Loki.

A smug smile spreads across Loki’s face as he raised his hands expressively.

“See?? I was merely playing and at no time was the mission in threat of failing!,” he proudly declared as if your comment cleared the matter up.

“Loki. I need you to reign it in. I know you’re bored, and this is nothing like your Asgard missions, but you’re here with us now. You need to tone it down- lives could’ve been endangered,” Steve warned, not budging.

Loki stood up, showing he was once again done with another mission recap meeting (or with Steve telling him what to do).

“Ah yes, but of course, Captain. I will make sure to take your commands into consideration in the future. Thank you for the support, Darling,” he shot you a devilish smile and a wink before stepping out of the room. Your body flushed with heat as you tried not to look at your teammates.

He had you good.

~~~~~~

Day 10

You screamed out in frustration at another failed attempt, slamming your fists on the bed next to you. You panted heavily, concern seeping into your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me? Is it mental? Is it physical?

You sat up and looked around at the toys scattered across the bed. Clit stimulators, vibrators, your favorite dildo- you had tried it all, and nothing. You took a deep breath and reassured yourself.

No, it’s never been a problem before. I just need to wait it out some more.

You opened up the calendar on your phone, thinking back to the last time you came. You had been thinking about Loki railing you, of course. You marked the last day you had an orgasm and sighed. Hopefully this is over soon.

You looked out the window to see the daylight shining in, and decided the best way to move past your problem is to pretend it wasn’t a problem. And since you had no Avengers things going on, you could actually relax and take in some sights of the city and explore as you wanted.

You threw on a t- shirt and jeans and ventured out into the bustling city. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you felt better. You decided to treat yourself with your favorite coffee shop, getting a flavored coffee and a couple chocolate croissants.

The spring air swirled around you as you entered Central Park with your snack, the faint smell of flowers blooming improving your mood already. This is just what you needed- some nature to ground you. You wouldn’t be surprised if this would be over after today.

You found the perfect bench across from Belvedere castle and sat down, taking in a deep breath and sighing as you appreciated your view. Everything else was going great, you really needed this moment to think about all that you do have, not what you don’t.

“Mind if I join you?”

Shit. You know that voice.

You looked up from your pastry to see Loki taking a seat next to you. Wearing a dark green fitted sweater with his tight black dress slacks, he looked as polished as ever. As he sat, his legs sprawled out a bit, to where your knees were almost touching. You told yourself to remain calm and not think about how sexy he looks.

“Not at all,” you shrugged, trying to remain as casual as possible.

“It’s quite lovely in this spot, I must say,” Loki stretched his arms along the back of the bench, and you felt your heart flutter at his closeness.

“Yea it’s not all bad here on “Midgard”,” you joked, making him smirk. It made your stomach flip.

The two of you sat in silence, and if you had been in a relationship, this would be incredibly romantic. The cherry blossoms were blooming and there were flower petals in the air- it was just perfect. You tried to think of something to talk to him about that wasn’t work- you were rarely alone with him outside of the tower or on a mission. Loki shifted and his knee touched yours, and you stifled a moan and felt your body go tense.

“Does the castle remind you of home?,” you asked with a friendly tone, trying to keep things light and prevent your mind from obsessing about the fact that the two of you were casually touching one another. You’re not going to let him get to you.

“A bit. If it were nicer, perhaps,” he grinned down at you and you took another bite, while acting engrossed in a family that was strolling by.

“What’s that you’re eating?,” he asked, his tone still relaxed, as if it was normal for him to sit so close to you, alone, in a romantic setting. Your conversation was friendly and innocent enough, but you could feel the heat rising in you, and you fought to ignore it as you chewed.

“A chocolate croissant from Lulu’s. They get the lamination perfect, they’re so buttery and they use the best chocolate- would you like a bite?,” you excitedly offered him.

“I’ve been around for more than a thousand years, I have eaten foods and drank spirits so divine that you couldn’t imagine. I doubt it could compare,” Loki looked down at you play mockingly, with a sparkle of mischief in his eye.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Alright, fine, your loss.” You took another bite, thankful you had another croissant to stress eat when you got back to the tower.

You could feel Loki’s eyes still on you, when he reached his hand out and cupped your chin to look up at him. Loki slowly brought his thumb up to your cheek, gently wiping a stray crumb at the corner of your mouth. His eyes studied you now, intensely.

“…though there are some things on Earth that still surprise me,” Loki smiled affectionately at you.

You swallowed your bite and looked into his eyes, dazzling a blue as bright as the sky, sucking you into his world. You wanted to stare into those eyes for eternity. You felt your face get hot and your core ached, reminding you of what you needed so desperately. You resisted the urge to clench your thighs, afraid he would notice.

“Alright, let me have a bite,” he unceremoniously demanded as if you weren’t just having a moment.

You moved your hand towards his mouth and he took a bite from the croissant, a thoughtful look on his face as he savored it. You watched him slowly chew and you tried not to be in awe of the God, and the fact that he wanted you to share something with him.

“Not bad, ” he raised his eyebrows and smiled at you, setting his large hand gently on your knee.

You will never recover from this.

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Chapter 2: Stormy Weather

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On the Edge Chapter List

Peachyjinx Master List

#loki smut #loki x reader #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki smut #loki fanfic #loki #loki series #loki mcu #mcu loki

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Eat Your Young

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (platonic!Ellie Williams x reader)

Author’s note: I’m sorry (gif by @pedrohub)

Summary: “Thoe I walk through the valley in the shadow of death I fear no evil for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley.” [4.1k!!!]

Warnings: episode 8 spoilers!! David (this is a warning in itself), Ellie in peril, canonical violence, bargaining, reader being a badass because I said so, a slight allusion to sa, PTSD symptoms, physical trauma, angst with a happy (slightly ambiguous) ending

Your body aches when you come to. Your face pulses with bruises, and you can feel broken ribs pushing against your lungs. Memories spark under your throbbing skull— waking up to the sound of the garage opening, Ellie yelling for help, the men, the horse going down. She should've woken you up earlier. She never should've tried to face them by herself. Your eyes blink open, and a hideous red carpet stares back at you. Rope ties your hands and ankles to the chair you're sitting on, and you look around for Ellie.

An empty room has never been as scary as it is right now. Your heartbeat quickens against sore ribs, and your breathing rattles loudly. Did they take you both? If so, where is she, and why isn't she with you? Did they find Joel? You think about how weak he was when you left, how he could barely hold his own knife, and how delirious he was. Your teeth grind together as you try to shrink back tears at the thought of him dying alone in that stupid basement. Your thoughts are interrupted by a door opening, and you look up enough to see the familiar man walking through the door.

David pauses by the swinging door once he sees you're awake. His eyes rake over your injuries with an alarming lack of care, and you shift in the chair. Your shoulders scream in pain, and you wince, but Ellie stays at the forefront of your mind.

"Where is she?" You ask. David grabs a chair from one of the tables and sets it in front of you. He's close enough that you can smell sweat and grime on him. You straighten up, making yourself as big as possible, as he sits across from you and stares at you intently.

"I was starting to worry about you," he says, and you let out a shaky breath. "How are you feeling?"

"Where the fuck is she?"

"She's alive. That's all you need to know right now."

"Let me see her."

"I'm afraid you're not in the position to be demanding things," he says as he rubs his hands together. You glance at the door he came through and make a mental note. She has to be through there. She would be able to hear you if you called for her. Does she know how close you are? "Are you her mother?"

"Fuck you."

"You're feisty just like she is. If you're not her mother, you must be the closest thing to it," he says. You try not to let his words settle over your bones. No mother would fail her child the way you've failed her, the way you're actively failing her. "She wouldn't tell me anything about the man, but she asked if you were okay. She cares a lot about you two."

"Is he here?" You hate how small you sound when you ask about him. David smirks, and your skin crawls.

"Not yet, no. We're looking for him now," he says. "My people are dead set on vengeance. It's a good thing I went out with them this morning. Otherwise, you'd both be dead."

"Lucky us."

"I know you didn't kill Alec, and I'm sorry you've traveled with such an angry man for so long. Once we find him, we'll bring him to justice, and you'll be free," he says like he's offering you a one-way ticket to Heaven. "We have room within our group. You and your daughter could live here safely. Start a new life."

"So, you want someone to pay for the loss of life? Is that it? You kidnapped me and a fucking kid to settle a score?"

"In a sense." He sighs. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about Ellie. She has to be fucking terrified right now— alone, hungry, and maybe hurt. She's strong, though. She could find Joel and move him to a safer location. You've seen her hold her own before, and you trust her as much as you trust Joel. She doesn't need you, but she needs Joel.

"If you let her go, I'll settle your score. Whatever you need to end this shit. I'll call him off, and they'll leave and never come back." You decide. David sits back in his chair as he considers your offer, your sacrifice.

"You really think a man like him would just leave you here?"

"He'd do anything I asked him to," you say. "Just let her go. This isn't her fight, and I think you know that."

"Why do you care so much about him? He's a murderer."

"So am I. I've done really shitty things to stay alive, things I can never tell her about. I'm not a good person."

"But he is?"

"He's trying to be," you say, catching sight of the Bible sitting on a nearby table. You let yourself soften just enough. "Isn't that what you're all about? Salvation and redemption and sacrificing yourself for the greater good? That girl is his chance at redemption, maybe his last one. They need each other way more than they need me."

"You love him." It's not a question. It's a statement like pointing at the clouds gathering on the horizon and announcing there will be a storm— obvious and beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Let them go. Please." You breathe. David sits silently, tapping his fingers together, before standing and wordlessly walking through the door he came in from. A tear falls from your eye, but you quickly wipe it on your shirt sleeve. You listen for voices as the building creaks against the force of the blizzard outside before twisting your wrists against the rope. The burn makes you grit your teeth, but the slow loosening is enough for you to continue.

You don't have a plan for getting out of here alive, only a plan for distracting David long enough for Ellie to escape and find Joel. They can take care of each other. They'll finish what we started. They'll be okay. You repeat it like a gospel, like a blind truth that you have to follow because you can't afford to think differently. You hope she understands that this is the last thing you want. That if you could've kept her safe forever, you would've. That abandoning her and Joel was never in the cards. You hope she knows that you love her.

Ellie shouts from the other room, but you can't make out her words. The silence that follows makes you sick to your stomach. You would take her nonstop talking over this eerie stillness. Your fingers search for a weak spot in the ropes as blood drips down your hands.

"Hey!" A gruff voice rings out from the other side of the room, and you freeze. One of David's men walks over to stand in front of you, a heavy semi-automatic weapon in his hands. When you look down the barrel, a gold bullet stares back at you, but you can't look away.

"Did you find him?" You ask. Something uncertain flickers behind his eyes, and that's enough of an answer. There's a chance, however minuscule, that he's alive and out there and trying to find both of you. A dull and dangerous ball of hope forms between your broken ribs. "We can end this here. If you just let us go, we can put this all behind us."

"And if I don't? You'll what? Kill us just like you killed Alec?"

"Oh, no. You'd be lucky to die as fast as he did," you say. "After what you did to her, you really think I'd just let you die that easily? I'll rip all your fucking teeth out of your skull and feed them to you before I even think about putting a bullet in your head." Terror flashes across his face, but Ellie's screams keep it growing. The man in front of you turns toward the sound, giving you a window to slip your hands from the loose ropes and grab at his gun. You push it up and away from him, a stray bullet singing through the air and hitting the ceiling. He shoves you back, and the chair breaks as you hit the ground so hard that you see stars.

David rushes in from the other room, blood splattering his clothes— her blood. He looks pissed as he assesses the situation, holding his hand tightly. "I offer you a home here, and this is what you do," Your molars buzz as molten rage rolls off you. David lunges at you, grabbing your face with one hand and holding up the other so you can see his broken finger. You try to squirm away from him, but his grip is tight enough for your jaw to creak with the threat of it shattering. "Look what she fucking did to me! You think you're going to get any sympathy now?" His breath is hot on your face as he shouts, but Ellie's blood is the only thing you care about. You spit in his eyes and wrestle out of his grasp, reaching for a piece of splintered wood. A warning shot fires by your ear before you can lift it, and splitting, ringing pain slices through your brain.

Your heart beats in your face as you try to army crawl further away, shaking your head hard like it will release the muffled pain. A swift kick to your ribs knocks you down, and you roll onto your back, pressing on the broken rib as you try to breathe. David and David's Bitch (you honestly don't care to learn his name, and that title is more fitting anyway) stare down at you with their guns in your direction. David tsks as he steps forward to stand over you, too close for your comfort. You move to put space between you, but he kicks you again. You gasp and bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood.

"I can't wait for your guy to show up so he can see just how pathetic you actually are." He threatens and you laugh, spitting blood.

"Trust me, he's the least of your fucking problems right now." You say, planting your hands behind you to push yourself off the floor. The butt of a pistol cracks across your skull before you can get far.

"No!" Ellie's voice jolts you awake. Your vision is blurry, and the throbbing pain in your body makes you nauseous, but none of that matters as much as she does. Her screams are the stuff of nightmares, helpless and scared out of her fucking mind. You push off the floor, forcing yourself to walk toward the sound until your foot stops moving. You look down to find a rope tied around your right foot, connecting you to one of the pillars in the middle of the room.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You say as you bend down to try pulling it off of you. There's no time. She needs you now. Tears form in your eyes as the rope burns the skin around your ankle, drawing blood. You look around for a knife, glass, anything to help you cut it but find nothing. She's stopped screaming, but that doesn't do anything to stop you from trying to get to her. The blood dripping into your socks makes the rope slippery and stains your hands when you finally get it off. You stand so fast that you get a headrush but don't stop until Ellie's body collides with yours. She's covered in blood and almost screams until she realizes who you are.

"I... I thought. I heard..." She says, clutching your shirt in between her hands. You shake your head as you grab her and run to the doors. They barely budge as you try to push them open, and Ellie grabs your hand, running into the kitchen. She's shaking, and her hair is a mess as she looks around for something to fight with.

"Ellie, we need to go. We can't stay here." You say as she grabs a smoldering log.

"Cover me." She says, barely looking at you before rushing back out to hide near the door. You grab a knife and duck under a nearby table as David walks in with a bloody cleaver. You grip the knife closer, hoping to slash his Achilles tendon as he walks by when Ellie pops up and throws the log at David's head. The curtain behind him catches fire as you try to track her movements. She stays low and quiet, just like Joel taught her, and you have half a mind to be proud of her for listening.

"There's no way out," David calls as the fire travels up the curtain to the ceiling. He's pacing calmly away from you as the building starts to go up in flames around us. "All the doors are locked, and I have the keys. Nobody is coming to save you, Ellie." You move to the kitchen once his back is turned to you, hoping to find a bottle or bigger knife to distract him. Ellie meets your eyes across the room, and you nod at her, a silent reassurance that you will not let anything happen to her. You find a half-full bottle of wine and quickly dump it down the drain as David rambles about something. You stay low as you look out the kitchen window and throw the bottle to the other side of the room, the last bits of alcohol making the flames grow bigger. You duck when David turns toward the sound and walk back to the swinging door, waiting for the right moment to come out.

A piece of ceiling falls in front of the door, and flames lick under it, just as you hear Ellie stab David. You turn to jump through the kitchen window when one of David's guys enters the room and locks eyes with you. You've got to be fucking kidding me. You swing the knife at him, slicing his arm as he brings his gun up to shoot. The long shotgun pushes at your chest and sends you backward as blood pours from his arm. You hit the edge of the counter hard but stay up and swinging. The man grunts right in your face, and the fire is tearing the building apart, but all you hear is Ellie. She's screaming louder than you've ever heard, and she's calling for you, for help. You swing the knife once more and hit something squishy that gives. The man sobs in pain, and you dig the knife further into his eye until he stops twitching.

Once he hits the ground, you jump through the kitchen window and dive onto the floor below, fire burning your arms as you do. You grip the knife closer to you and stand until you see the full sight of Ellie and David. She's on top of him and hitting him over and over and over again with his cleaver. Blood splatters across her face and clothes as David becomes less of a body and more of a stain. You don't try to stop her. You just drop your knife and slowly walk into her line of sight with your hands up. By the time she stops raising her arms to hack the body, she's crying and breathing hard enough for you to hear her over the flames.

"Ellie," you call, and she jumps like she forgot you were there. The look in her eyes now is so different from the one she gave you earlier when you tried to tell her nothing terrible would happen. It's familiar and heart breaking. She's shaking when you reach for her and pull her off of David. "We need to go, okay? We gotta get out of here." You wrap your arms around her and shield her eyes as you walk past the bodies she left in her wake.

The snow is a welcome relief from the smothering smoke and fire when you leave the building. Ellie stays tucked under your arm, letting you take her weight as you move toward the blue water, away from David and whatever god failed you. Her shoulders fall slack until a pair of arms wrap around us, and she screams again. Your grip on her tightens as she cries and kicks at whoever is trying to grab you. She nearly falls to her knees as the arms spin her around, taking her away from you.

"Hey, look," Joel's voice is soft as he holds her face. You let him take her and take a step back, trying to process that he's alive. "It's me. It's me. It's okay."

"He tried to..." Ellie mumbles, and you have to turn away from them, vomit burning in your throat. You swallow hard as tears fall down your face and do your best to hold your sobs. "He tried to" is a sentence you've heard too many times but never from someone as young as Ellie. He tried to, and you were right there. He tried to, and you couldn't do anything. He tried to, and she was screaming for you. If David weren't already dead and burning, you'd go back and rip his fucking spine out. He tried to.

Joel saying your name makes you turn to see Ellie wrapped in his jacket, a faraway look in her eyes. You take her backpack from him and go to his other side to snake your arm around his back. He's shaking either from fear or pain. You don't know that it matters. Together, you work to get somewhere safe, helping to carry the weight of the past three months silently.

You found an empty house a few miles away from the resort and let Joel clean Ellie up in the bathroom. She clung to him the whole way here, trembling bloody hands wrapped around his middle. The cut on her nose is gnarly, and she has slices on her fingers from gripping the knife she used to kill David. Other than that, she's more mentally scarred than anything. As soon as she was clean and fed with twenty-year-old Spaghetti-O's, she fell asleep on Joel's chest, her bandaged hand resting over his heart as they lay on the floor together. The words you said to David while begging for their lives surround you. They need each other way more than they need me.

You feel like shit now that the adrenaline has died down. There are burns on your forearms, cuts on your hands, bruises swelling your face, and you're pretty sure the hearing in your left ear is permanently fucked. Your head pounds and your ribs twinge in pain when you breathe too deeply, but it's nothing compared to the screams echoing in your mind. They'll probably embed in your brain and repeat themselves for the rest of your life. You've never heard her scream like that— deep in her chest and desperate, like she was praying for someone to hear her and help, to kill the men who put their hands on her and then some.

He tried to.

Joel calls your name softly, but you can't turn to face him. Your eyes stay on the front door, the cool metal of your gun warming under your palm. "You should sleep," Joel murmurs as he puts a comforting hand on your back. He's careful not to jostle Ellie as he rubs circles into your skin. You shake your head as your fingers twitch against the gun.

"I was asleep when she," your voice catches in your throat, and you wipe at your eyes. "I didn't even hear her leave. I can't…."

"She's safe, and she's alive. That's the most important thing."

"I was so fucking scared, Joel. I could hear her screaming, and I couldn't do anything to help her," you sniffle as he tugs at your shirt, making you turn to look at him. His eyes are watery and sad, but he doesn't stop you. "The fucking apocalypse happened, and the scariest thing in the world is still a man who thinks he can take whatever he wants."

"I know, baby."

"I can still hear his voice. I-” He pulls you closer and gently takes the gun out of your hands. Slowly, he makes you lie beside him until you relax and use his bicep as a pillow. You're close enough to count the cuts on Ellie's sleeping face, and you almost wiggle away. Joel feels it and quickly kisses your forehead, his grip on you tightening enough to make you stay.

"Let me lay with my girls," he whispers before you can protest. "Please." You sigh and curl into him, wrapping your arm around his stomach, so your fingers can graze Ellie's arm. He traces patterns into your back as you count Ellie's breaths. Every rise and fall of her chest soothes your anxiety just a little more. Her nose scrunches in her sleep, and she mumbles something as her grip on Joel gets tighter. He shushes her and kisses her forehead, whispering, "we're right here, baby girl," into her temple. Then, probably without even realizing it, she moves her hand until it covers yours, her little fingers squeezing you like she's trying to decide if you're real. You take her hand in yours and squeeze back.

It’s moments like these that make you wonder how you could've gone so long without her. It's moments like these that make you wonder how you could ever go back to the life you had before. It's moments like these that give you a glimpse, a torturous peek, into what could've been. If you had met Joel earlier and had been faster and less guarded, maybe your paths may have crossed sooner. Maybe all those people you loved who died would still be alive somewhere. Maybe nothing would've changed at all.

"I'm so scared of losing her," You tell him, your eyes still stuck to Ellie's face. Joel takes a deep breath and nods. "When did she stop being cargo?"

"She was never just cargo."

"What are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna get her to the Fireflies. They'll do whatever they need, and then, I don't know. We could take her back to Jackson and get her settled. Let her have an actual childhood." He says. A regular, ordinary life with them sounds idyllic, something reserved for people way better than you are.

"What if something bad happens with the Fireflies?"

"Then, we do whatever it takes to keep her alive. Either way, we're gonna finish this."

"Whatever it takes." You echo.

"You should sleep," he says. Your body agrees with him even if you're hesitant. "I'll take the first watch. I've probably had enough sleep to last me, at least, a couple of hours." You stare at him to make sure he's okay to stay up before nodding. You squeeze Ellie's hand again and smoosh your cheek against Joel's shoulder, perfectly wrapped up in both of them. Joel goes back to rubbing your back to lull you to sleep, and all you can hear is their breathing and the birds singing to each other outside. Fireflies, ruthless FEDRA officers, Infected, and religious cults are far enough for you to trust that everything is okay.

"Joel," you say quietly. He hums, and you push yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. "I love you. I don't think I ever told you that, but I want you to know."

"You never had to. I always knew," he says, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "I love you, too." You want to say more. You want to say, "I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it. I'm sorry if it's too late. I'm sorry for falling in love with you in this world that makes love a weakness," but you don't. You lean down and kiss him like you've done hundreds of times and try not to think about what will happen tomorrow.

The only thing you care about is the two people you're curled up within an old, mildewy basement in the middle of fucking Colorado because they are your world now. And nothing will take your world away ever again.

🍓

#the last of us #ellie williams #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #ellie the last of us #tlou part 1 #tlou fic #tlou angst #joel miller angst #ellie williams angst

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girls-alias · 4 months

Text

Dean's Dream P9

Title: Dean's Dream Part 9

Words: 1,611

Relations: Dean Winchester X reader.

TW: Strong language

Req: @l7axr, @qinnroki, @deans-baby-momma, @angelofdarkness69

Part 8

Third-person POV:

Dean smiled, admiring Y/N's lips as she spoke, giggled or even listened to Sam. She was always smiling because she was in Dean's arms. Dean only came out of reality when Y/N whipped her head around to look at Dean confused. His eyebrows furrowed before rising, showing he wasn't listening and was not guilty of whatever accusatory thing was mentioned.

"What?" He asked innocently making Y/N chuckle, a sound he had missed and held close to his heart.

"Sammy was saying we went to the same dinner on May 3rd," She explained, filling him in on the conversation. He looked at her amazed, a slight chuckle leaving his lips. Her smile beamed at him.

"We were sat next to a hideous cherry painting," Dean chuckled, remembering how the cherry painting stood out to him as it seemed ugly and yet hypnotizing. He watched as Y/N's face grew bewildered.

"So did I," She explained, Dean's dropped open slightly as he wondered about a thousand things.

"Did you go to the bathroom and leave your book on the table?" He asked making me confused but also amazed as she recognised where the story was going. She confirmed excitedly. "I was sat right behind you," He explained, she chuckled as she shook her head. "If I had just turned around we would have seen each other," He explained with a chuckle, their hearts seemed to break a little at his words. It was almost synchronised. They both held sad smiles but smiled honestly when they recognised it on each other's faces. They both leaned in, meeting to kiss. It was a kiss of solidarity and comfort, something they both needed.

The conversation grew lighter as Dean smacked his brother's arm calling him an idiot for not pointing her out. They all laughed, knowing it was ridiculous but it appeared as though life was ridiculous to them too. As the food settled, the topic of conversation was what now? The air seemed to thicken as they all knew the conversation could end badly. Dean's chest seemed to tighten thinking the fairytale would end here and now. There seemed to be a silence surrounding them. Y/N turned completely in her seating position to face Dean. Something, in their dream life they often did to have a one-to-one conversation even in a crowded room. Even though Dean had not experienced this when he was in the dream, his body seemed to remember and understand. He turned his shoulders, facing her as she smiled worriedly.

"I know you hunt monsters and things but I would fall off the edge of the Earth for you if that's what you needed," She began to explain, Dean's smile grew at her words as he went to speak. "Please just let me," She interrupted sincerely. He nodded, closing his mouth and listening. Something the onlooking Sam was confused by. He could hardly get Dean to listen never mind shut up. He was amazed and enthralled, wanting to study her and learn her ways. "My life is miserable and if you will both have me I will come with you, I will learn to be an asset, I will do whatever it takes," She explained, pouring her heart into her words but worrying she sounded too desperate but as Dean smiled, she knew he didn't share her belief of being desperate.

"I'll stay with you while we're on this hunt then we'll take you to the bunker, it's pretty much our home between cases." He explained, admiring her for all she was. Perfection. The piece of him, he was missing. Her smile beamed before she kissed him, confirming she was happy with his words and the plan. She pulled away, admiring him closer before taking a deep breath and turning to Sam. She smiled warmly at him but also sympathetically. Sam waited a little worried about why he was brought into the conversation.

"Sam, you're welcome to stay with me as well. When the case is done we'll look at if you're okay with me coming along. I don't want you to feel like I'll hold you back or that it's a bad idea." She explained thoughtfully. Sam's eyebrows quivered slightly as he smiled, he could already tell she had a big heart. "If at the end of that time you're not 100% on board then we will work it out from there but whatever your answer is we will not judge you or change our feelings for you. It is a life the both of you have already built and I don't want to come in the way of that in any way or form," She explained, smiling softly as he grinned, chuckling softly as she finished.

"I can tell already I want you around," He commented, she sighed softly, relieved by his answer.

"We'll get your final answer before you leave," She explained making him smile so that even if he did change his mind she wouldn't hold it against him or take it personally. "You want me to show you to my apartment?" She asked them both, smiling as she noticed the smirking Dean. She chuckled as she shook her head.

They started climbing out of the booth, Dean offering his hand to help her stand although she didn't need it. She accepted his hand anyway. It was simply an excuse for him to hold her hand, which he continued to do as they walked out. They walked around the diner, chit-chatting slightly about the town as Dean was already looking for food recommendations later. She smiled, indulging him in the information, pointing out the places she remembered simply because she knew Dean would love them. Sam had thought it was a heartwarming gesture as he knew it was her subconscious way of saying I Love You without words.

"This is why you're perfect," Dean chimed in. Seemingly loving that she was excited to try a takeaway place that had the meatiest and greasiest burgers he would like. Also commenting on how they do amazing pasta dishes and salads Sam would like. Dean put an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head as they walked. She giggled as her steps fumbled slightly before resuming a normal rhythm.

They rounded the corner, the Impala in prime view of the car park. She gasped, rushing slightly to get to the car. She ran her hand over the hood. Amazed he actually had the car in the dream as she had wanted this car since she woke up. Dean smiled brightly at her excitement, approaching her as she was almost giddy. Sam chuckled a little confused but watched on, craving to see their interaction. It seemed surreal to Sam, he had never seen Dean this happy, gentle or loving.

"You actually have Baby," She gasped, smiling as she admired the car and Dean admired her. Sam admires the scene.

"Make and model," He prompted, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"1967 Chevy Impala," She explained as if it was hardwired into her brain. Her smile never faded. Dean grinned somehow recalling a time when he had made her learn everything about the car before he would let her drive it. Although he wasn't present in the dream then he seemed to know it like a distant memory. Like he had a short dream about it months ago and had simply forgotten it. He studied her expression as he pulled the keys from his pocket. She grinned, studying him slightly but as he smiled she knew he was letting her drive. She squealed, rushing to embrace Dean as he chuckled. Sam watched on, shock overloading his system. It took him ages for Dean to let him drive. Sam reminded himself that they had not just met a few hours ago and that it was weird circumstances, something he assumed he would be used to by now in this line of work. She bounced slightly as she pulled away from the hug accepting the keys from Dean and turned to Sam, her smile beaming excitedly. "Are you okay if I drive?" She asked Sam. He chuckled noticing she was hiding some excitement in case he wasn't comfortable with it.

"If Dean trusts you to drive I won't argue," Sam chuckled slightly. Holding his hands up to show he wasn't putting up a fight. She squealed excitedly before quickly kissing Dean. Sam opened the back door, crouching into the car. She smirked as she looked at Sam's closing door, a mischievous look filling her eyes. Dean smirked, his recognition of her emotions and intents still sharp.

"You probably won't remember but we had sex in and on this car," She tempted, her tone and words making Dean's mouth dry. His mind flooded as he either remembered or imagined the times. She smirked as she walked around to the driver's door.

Dean admired her the whole time she was driving, his mind was often distracted by his thoughts of her but he wiped them away. She drove them to her apartment block, inviting them into her home. They walked in, happy to be somewhere more private but a little more bare. Sam tried to hide his slightly sad smile as he looked around. It was less homely than the bunker. She simply had all she needed, there weren't any real luxuries or anything sentimental. Dean barely cared where he was as long as he was with her. They could be in hell, and he could be tortured for decades again but as long as she was okay and offering him the heartwarming smile that healed his heart, he would be happy.

Masterlist

Working On

I know @l7axr requested a smut. That will be Part 10 and skippable for those of you know don't like smut.

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #spn

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the-paper-monkey · 2 months

Note

Reincarnation? If you so please

For the ask game

This is really just my Tomarry reincarnation scribbles for any AUs that come to mind.

I'm cracking up rn because the only scene I have polished enough to share is one with secondary-school-student!Tom and dying-in-a-pallative-care-ward!Harry 💀

Anyway, you're welcome:

Scene

“Look at you.” The voice of a teenage boy.

Harry pried one eye open.

There, leaning in the doorway, was none other than Tom Riddle, looking perhaps sixteen at the oldest. He was dressed in a crisp school uniform that looked expensive enough to pay for private palliative care thrice over. His hair was artfully tousled in a way that might have been carefree if it had been anyone other than Tom. On the breast of his blazer was pinned the predictable prefect badge.

“This is perverse,” Harry said. He closed his eyes, wishing Tom away, thinking of Ginny, the children, the grandchildren. Anything other than Tom Riddle.

It didn’t work. He could still hear the soft sound of Tom’s feet on the lino as he approached.

“I won’t disagree.” Tom dropped himself onto the mattress beside Harry, peering down at him with his dark, pretty eyes. “You look hideous. How old are you? One hundred? Two?”

“Eighty-three,” Harry replied, “and not likely to make it to eighty-four.” It was jarring to see his sun-beaten, wrinkled old hands beside Tom’s pale, youthful ones. How would it work in this world? Would Tom continue to live a long, healthy life after Harry had passed? Would he forget him?

“You look much older,” Tom said, matter of fact.

He wasn’t the most conscious of the Toms, Harry mused. He’d met versions of him with varying degrees of knowledge of their shared pasts—some who remembered only when he saw them, some who had known for decades, some who didn’t recognise him in the slightest. This Tom seemed to remember well enough, but he didn’t hold himself with the maturity of a Tom Riddle who recalled a thousand lives. He was a boy, nothing more.

And even from the brief words they’d exchanged, Harry could already tell he had been raised by his father.

“This coming from the lad who didn’t manage to make it to his seventy-eighth birthday?” Harry said.

Tom shrugged, which was not the reaction that an iteration of him closer to Voldemort would have had. If—in his decrepit, geriatric form—Harry had dared voice that to the Librarian Tom, he was certain all the life-saving equipment currently attached to him would have already been severed. But instead, this Tom only watched him curiously, head half-cocked.

Harry was, predictably, charmed by him. However, much to his relief, he felt no great surge of attraction. It was one benefit of being eighty-three and on seven different medications with a total of forty different side effects.

“I saw your name on the door. I remembered it, though I wasn’t sure where from.”

“Almost like a half-forgotten friend from when you were very young?” Harry supplied.

“A friend?” Tom’s lip curled. “I never had friends.” He spoke as if Harry had gravely offended him by even suggesting the possibility.

“No,” Harry said, “neither had I. But that was how I felt when I read your name—the first time.”

“Hm,” Tom said, mouth twitching down. “Why’s it always you, then? What’s so special about you?” He didn’t question his own importance—as Harry recalled doing in iterations further from the core—simply accepting his place at the centre of infinite parallel universes without batting an eye.

“You marked me as your equal,” Harry said. “Really, it’s all your fault. I’m still waiting on an apology.” His throat was dry, arms too weak to reach for his water, but he didn’t ask Tom to help him. Not this petulant, young version of him.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

A nurse came in, almost as if she’d read his mind, bustling about and neatening up Ginny’s bags. She helped him take a sip of water, sparing an incurious glance at Tom. Harry supposed she imagined he was just another grandchild. It was nauseating enough to almost make him laugh.

“We fucked,” Tom said abruptly.

The nurse dropped the cup, the thin plastic straw spinning away somewhere under his bed. “Pardon me?”

It was likely Tom hadn’t even intended to provoke a reaction from the room. The memory had certainly just come to him. Harry had experienced the same many a time. However, while rarely was that an admission one would wish to make in front of a stranger, stating such a thing while in school uniform in front of a mandated reporter was surely near the top of the list of inadvisable decisions.

Tom flicked a disinterested glance at her. “I’m sixteen. If I have a taste for the toothless then that’s none of your business.”

“He’s only joking,” Harry assured her. “You’ve seen my records. I’m not up for any sort of physical activity.”

She did not laugh, leaving in a huff. Harry hoped she wasn’t off to make a call.

“I’m not going to have this conversation with a child,” Harry said. “Come see me in the next life.”

“We did,” Tom insisted, perhaps not understanding that plausibility was not the roadblock to their conversation. “In an atelier out the back of a piano shop in Paris.”

“Well,” Harry said, memories of a thousand lives blurred and smudged together in his mind, “I suppose we may have.” That it was the closest iteration to this Tom did not mean it sprang quickly to Harry’s mind.

“We did, we—”

The door slid open again and Harry looked up, expecting a police officer or some sort of security. But instead, there stood an exceptionally handsome man who could have been the twin of any of the versions of Tom in his thirties that Harry had met.

“Tommy,” Tom Riddle Sr said, looking tired and rather distracted, “you mustn’t just go about bothering other patients. I’m very sorry, Mr…?” He was dressed in a crisp black suit and had his Blackberry in hand, looking like he had about a thousand things to do that were more important than apologising to Harry.

“Potter,” Harry said. “And that’s quite alright.” He was old enough to be the man’s grandfather. Never had he felt older. He was beginning to understand why Voldemort had paid him little attention or respect in the worlds in which they were fifty years apart in age.

“I was just saying goodbye,” Tom said. Then, with a sly glint in his eye, he dipped his head and kissed Harry square on the mouth. “When do you suppose you’ll die?” he asked, breaking away.

Harry glanced over at Tom’s father, but saw that he was typing out an email on his phone and had missed the exchange entirely.

“The doctors have given me two months.”

Tom’s eyes dropped to his own hand on Harry’s chest for a brief moment, then up at his face again. “This will be the last time I see you, then.”

“In this lifetime.” Harry winked. Tom frowned.

Behind him, Tom’s father cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt, but we’ve really got to dash. Tommy, will you come say goodbye to your grandfather?”

#asks #ask game #anon

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