#over and over I just hear those two fucking say that line
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The dumb anti BKDK/DKBK arguments:
I've seen a lot of people kinda making fun of bkdk/dkbk antis' takes on their dynamic/relationship. But,I think there's also an underlining issue with the mischaracterization of the story,characters,and Hori as a writer himself.
Katsuki/bullying
One of the biggest arguments used against bkdk/dkbk is this one panel.
Which,this scene isn't as deep as people want to believe it is. Well,it IS,but just not on Katsuki's end (I'll elaborate on this in the Izuku section). This scene isn't about Katsuki being an awful person,it's about what Izuku endures as a quirkless person. Don't get me wrong: Katsuki was an absolute asshole in this. But,he's also a fourteen year old egotistical brat. His age obviously doesn't cover for what he's done,but it doesn't make him an evil monster who wishes to abuse and victimize Izuku whenever he possibly can. That's just not true.
(Important side note: it says several times that this is the furthest Katsuki has ever gone with his bullying with Izuku. His friends even comment on Katsuki going too far. So I really don't get why the antis try to claim this is consist behaviour for Katsuki,when it clearly isn't. This doesn't make what he did OKAY though,that's not what I'm saying at all. This scene just gets blown out of proportion most of the time)
Also,let's not forget about the hypocrisy this scene brings. Many antis will say that bkdk/dkbk can't be romantic and it's toxic because Katsuki told Izuku to "kys",but here's the thing; they're the same people who argue they're strictly platonic. It makes no sense. If this relationship was actually as toxic and abusive as they say it is,then they couldn't be friends. Antis use this scene for disproving the romantic interpretation of the two,but then completely ignore it when it's not relevant to their narrative.
Now,Katsuki's ignored development! I've seem a couple antis claim that Katsuki's apology scene was a self pity speech and it was all about him. Which is...SO FUCKING WRONG? I can understand if you've read the first lines of the apology and thought, "Oh,he's just thinking about himself," if you were just really dense and had no context of the earlier events leading up to this apology and stopped reading after a page that is. It's probably one of the most stupid takes I've seen on Katsuki and Hori's writing.
In these panels Katsuki is talking about his feelings,yes. And this is important! Izuku deserves an explanation to Katsuki's bullying,Izuku deserves to hear how Katsuki actually feels. But,right after,he turns it around to talk about Izuku. This sequence of events is extremely important to what Katsuki (Hori) is trying to convey. The truth. I know a people wanted this to be about Izuku being a helpless victim,but that just isn't true to either of their characters,especially Izuku's. And these words are backed up by actions. Over. And over again. Katsuki said he was going to be there for Izuku?
(Note: I'm aware a couple of this manga panels aren't the official translations! And that's because the official translations are very DIFFERENT from what Katsuki is actually saying in those scenes)
He's there. And that's kinda something I feel people forget when thinking of Katsuki's apology. He's already been reconnecting and making it up to Izuku.
Katsuki has gone through so much development over the course of mha,and it's astonishing that people still use the first page of this manga to view Katsuki and the whole story. Of course Katsuki is going to feel incompleted and lazily written when all you focus on is the very first chapter of the manga. Foreshadowing and growth exist,let's not forget that.
Izuku the victim
This is something that definitely annoys me when I see people hating on bkdk/dkbk. Most of the time the antis hate Katsuki so much that they victimize Izuku as much as they possibly fucking can.
Was Izuku bullied? Yes! Was he mistreated? Yes!
But that doesn't make him a helpless victim who doesn't see himself as anything. Izuku does have a sense of self worth. That's just the truth. It always pisses me off when people bring up the "take a swine dive off the roof of the building," line and say if Izuku didn't get OFA he would had committed suicide. Honestly,I think when Izuku starts devaluating himself is when he receives OFA.
For example,when Katsuki backs Izuku into a wall telling him he can't get into U.A,
Izuku says "there's no harm in trying",Izuku thinks he can get into U.A,even without a quirk. He believes,deep down,he can be a quirkless hero. Until he's told otherwise from All Might,then doesn't believe in himself even more when he has OFA.
(In the anime,or just the dub,Izuku says something along the lines of, "they changed that rule!" To Katsuki when we says he can't get into U.A without a quirk,which further proves this point)
And about the, "take a swine dive off the roof" page, this doesn't effect Izuku as much as people say it did. Even in the moment. Izuku wasn't distraught,Izuku didn't go into a deep depression over it,he was pissed.
That is a look of anger. Now,why was Izuku angry? Because he didn't believe this. He knew what Katsuki was saying was just BS. In this scene he calls Katsuki an idiot,then he thinks about his mom. This scene was deep,because it was about Izuku's trauma with his mother and discovering when he was quirkless. This scene was,as I've said,to show what Izuku endures as a qurikless kid and to segway into his backstory.
As for Izuku's self worth,we also see through these pages of him being upset with his mother,he still has hope he can be a hero. He still wishes to become a hero,still acknowledging that he's quirkless,he still believes he can be.
because he doesn't let people hold him back. Because he's stubborn as fuck (a character trait people often forget Izuku has). So I really don't get why people try to paint Izuku as this kid who leaves his self Image in the hands of others,he knows he's not useless.
And when I say Izuku devaluates himself,I don't mean Izuku sees himself as useless. Izuku sees himself as a vessel for OFA from that point on and takes the responsiblity/burden of it. He dehumanized himself because of OFA,not because of the bullying he faced.
(I'm not saying this didn't hurt Izuku in anyway! It did. But I feel Izuku wasn't as effected by it as people think he is,it wasn't something Izuku saw as worth it. He knew what he wanted to be at the end of the day,and stuck the finger to everyone else.)
I hate it when people say Izuku is a basic character,then don't actually know the first thing about him.
Can't be cannon because it's shonen
This argument I can get! But,there are a couple of reasons this is still a dumb argument.
First of all,we're usually talking about shipping. So this doesn't necessarily apply to fan work,which they do for some odd reason.
Second of all,MHA is pretty lgbtq+ positive. With Toga being bi/pan,and they're being several trans characters,and let's not forget about characters like Mineta who is pretty heavily hinted to be bisexual.
And I feel Horikoshi is using the romantic shonen formula,just not in the way they thought he would...
Katsuki is very love interest coded.
With Katsuki being the one the villains (not just villains,people in general) go after to or to get a rise out of Izuku.
And,another important thing to mention when talking about shonen is Horikoshi as a writer himself.
Horikoshi is doing this for himself. He wants to enjoy what he's writing. So,if bkdk/dkbk becomes cannon? It wasn't fan pressure. He wanted to do it. If it doesn't? Same thing. And,from what I've observed,Hori REALLY likes Katsuki and Izuku.
I mean,he's done so much with these two,so many unnecessary moments,for...what? We have to remember bkdk/dkbk was seen as toxic from the fast majority of the fanbase when people starting shipping them. But,what did Hori do? He kept putting in these moments. Kept foreshadowing something...more. And in the process put down many popular ships at the time. Like,Kribaku (NOT HATING) it was seen as the healthy,fun relationship Katsuki could be in romantically. Horikoshi used this to deepen the bond between bkdk/dkbk. (And to probably to add some gay yearning angst)
and let's not forget all the unnecessary sketches he made between the two,and some of his comments on them,
(From the ultra analysis character book)
From the looks of it,Hori just enjoys these two together. Especially considering some of the new drawings/sketches he's made.
At the end of the day it doesn't matter if it's shonen or not. Horikoshi is going to do what he enjoys. And I hope he continues to do so! If mha's end doesn't result with cannon bkdk/dkbk? I couldn't care less if Horikoshi is pleased with the ending,as much as I see the cannon potential.
#greenade#dkbk#bkdk#Mha#Bnha#These are just a couple arguments I see recycled the most#deku x kacchan#dekucchan#Midoriya Izuku#Bakugou Katsuki
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reservation for three
part one ♡ part two ♡ part three
pairings: stalker! mike schmidt x pregnant! reader
warnings: drinking while pregnant, mike unknowingly jacking off to you, mentions of your past bf’s
a/n: i’m back from the dead
♡ ‘Hello Mike, Thank you for making a reservation. We are pleased to inform you that your booking is confirmed. We are expecting you on Saturday at 7:00 PM.’
♡ mike closed his laptop as he sighed in relief, he promised to give you the best date ever and he would keep that promise if he had to cross every line for you.
mikey: Hi, baby.
I made reservations for Saturday at 7 pm.
you: YAYAYAY <333 thank uuu mikeyyyy!!
mikey: Of course. I want our first date to be perfect.
you: ur too sweet :( i’m already planning what to wear for u hehe
mikey: You better show me.
But I already know you’ll look beautiful.
you: 🍑 do u likeyyy :3
image description: you angling your phone to capture (mostly) your ass and outfit. you’re wearing an off-shoulder sweater tucked into a mini pencil skirt. you purposefully lifted up your skirt a bit to show your pink panties.
mikey: Aren’t we supposed to be taking things slow?
you: ur no fun >:(
mikey: You look beautiful.
I wish I could see under those panties.
♡ “OH MY GOD! do you know what he just fucking said?” you squeal and cover your face, not wanting your best friend to see your flushed face.
♡ “what? what did he say?” she rolled her eyes. the only thing you’ve been talking about is mike. ‘oh my gosh, mike! mike just did this. mike just did that. mike, mike, MIKE.
♡ “he said HE WANTS TO SEE UNDER MY PANTIES!!” your voice becoming louder and higher as you finished your sentence, squealing as you face plant into your stuffed animal.
♡ “he’s such a whore.” she was tired of hearing about another basic man in your life, like get a grip.
♡ “so am i! we’re perfect for each other!”
♡ she rolled over to the other side of the bed, “worst sleepover ever.”
♡ “okay! okay! look!” you throw your phone onto your bean bag which is on the other side of the room. “i’m all yours.”
♡ “you promise?”
♡ “yes!” you gasp, “let’s bake a cake! i have strawberry cake mix!”
♡ it was saturday. he hung his suit on his racket, making sure it wouldn’t get wrinkled. he can’t afford to mess up, not when your best friend thinks he’s a ‘maybe’.. he’s not a maybe, he’s the one.
♡ who would pay for their partner’s nails without them even asking? not a shit boyfriend. INCLUDING TIP! when has a man ever done that for either of you?
♡ he looked into the mirror and made sure he looked good, picking at his teeth with floss, even putting on lotion to layer his cologne with… he learned that from you.
♡ he studied the men you used to date, desperately wanting to one-up them and it was easy… most of these men had no manners or self-respect. their instagram posts showing them flaunting their money or the “bitches'' they get. they were fucking gross. he was different. the only reason he was on social media was to look at your posts. anger and lust becoming worse at every stroke, looking at your almost nude photoshoots… but now? you’ll make it known that it’s him taking these pictures for you, that you’re his and he’s yours. he’ll make sure of it.
♡ mike nervously picked at his nails as he waited outside the restaurant for you. the wind fluffed up his curls, adding a touch of his usual messiness to his neat appearance. his heart raced with anticipation, and he couldn't help but steal glances at his phone, checking the time as if a minute could pass by faster.
♡ then there you were. as if god herself had suddenly appeared, your presence filled the air with a captivating energy. mike's anxiousness dissolved into a mixture of relief and excitement as he laid eyes on you.
♡ “god, i underdressed.” you scan his suit.
♡ “no, you look amazing as ever.”
♡ “as do you..” you tug at his tie playfully, pulling him close like you’re about to kiss him.
♡ a rush of warmth spread through mike's chest as you pulled him. the sight of you took his breath away, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly fortunate to be sharing this moment with someone as amazing as you. you two kissed softly.
♡ “well, let me lead the way.” he holds out his arm to take you into his, entering the restaurant as his heart races. he couldn’t believe this was happening, you were finally close to him and you wanted to be with him! the smell of your perfume made his head spin, making him lose his balance briefly.
♡ you giggle, “you okay, mikey?”
♡ “i’m way better than okay.” he smiled at you like a lovesick puppy, no one has ever seen this side of him.
♡ “shut up.” you playfully hit his arm.
♡ your touch was addicting. all he wanted to do was hold onto you forever, feel you closer, be insi-
♡ “good evening! do you two have reservations?” the hostess asked.
♡ “yes! under mike schmidt.��
♡ she scanned the list and looked up, “i’ll take you to your table!”
♡ you continued to hold onto him as he followed the hostess. the table was nicely set with a flickering candle in the middle, casting a warm glow over the room. soft music played in the background, creating a romantic ambiance that perfectly matched the moment.
♡ “the waiter will be with you shortly.” she chirped.
♡ “thank you.” he gave a kind smile to her before looking back into your eyes. he scanned your appearance, adoring your red cheeks, your radiant smile, and the way your eye makeup glittered. he couldn't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else. “you’re so beautiful.”
♡ you never felt this way about a man in forever. he actually made you feel seen, not like a piece of meat. it felt refreshing but terrifying. the guilt in your stomach became worse, what about the fucking baby in your womb? you looked away from his gaze, “oh shush..”
♡ “no, i really mean it.”
♡ you clutched onto your skirt nervously, “thank you, mikey.” it felt so natural being with him.
♡ the waiter soon came and took your orders. “can i also order a bottle of red wine, please?” he knew he shouldn’t do this, but he needed you to tell him specifically that you’re pregnant. you’re a smart girl though, you would never drink while his baby was inside you. he looked at you, “is that okay?”
♡ “of course, mhm!” you exclaimed. you didn’t want to be rude, he was offering and he already did so much for you but, fuck, was this stressful.
♡ oh. okay. do you not care about the health of his baby? how coul- no, you don’t even know it’s his. he tries to calm down but you pick up on his sudden anger from his facial expression. “sorry, i had a rough day.”
♡ you reach out and rub his hand comfortably, “i hope i can make it better.”
♡ “just you being here makes me feel better.” and now the guilt is hitting harder.
♡ the waiter brought out the food and wine, pouring two glasses. mike tried to gain eye contact with you but you kept playing with your food, shaking as the fork tried to grab onto a piece of salmon.
♡ “hey, are you okay?” he asked. the look of concern in his face made the lump in your throat bigger, tears smudged your makeup as you tried to gather your thoughts. you took a big sip of your wine to try to stop yourself from crying, swallowing the lump along with the tart liquid. his breath hitched. seriously? he expected better from you but he held his emotions back.
♡ “mhm.. are you?”
♡ he reached out his hand to hold yours, “c’mon, princess. you can tell me.” the guilt in you grew. i mean- it’s not like some dude came in you while you two were dating, it happened way before you met mike! so why the fuck do you feel so guilty?
♡ “i’m pregnant.” you blurted out. was that.. a smile..? no, you’re crazy. his lips were turned into a frown as he rubbed your hand comfortably.
♡ “that’s okay... but this happened before we started-”
♡ “yes, yes. i actually really like you, that’s why i didn't want to,,, you know.”
♡ he pretended to let out a breath of relief, but he knew it was his baby. he tries to hide his excitement but it’s hard when his cheeks are already a soft pink and there’s an uncomfortable feeling in his pants. “i like you too.” he says as he pulls the wine glass away from you, “but this… isn’t good for the baby.”
♡ you sniffled, “i don’t even know if i’m keeping it.”
♡ “i’ll be here for you no matter what you decide to do, but i’m sure you would make a great mom.”
♡ “why are you so sweet to me, mike?”
♡ because you’re all he ever wanted since the first time he saw you, but he didn’t say that. instead he said, “because you’re sweeter.”
thank u for reading and for being so patient with me <3 i love u all
#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x reader smut#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson fanfic
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You know, trust is like a mirror. You can fix it if it's broke, but you can still see the crack in that motherfucker's reflection.
--Me at this YMU Wenclair arc
#over and over I just hear those two fucking say that line#i love angst#trust in me when i tell you they'll make it#i'm not writing a million words to throw them all away#and ooooooo i am so excited for that final barrier to finally SMASH#i can't wait.#i get goosebumps thinking about it#god i love those two
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i saw u needed some idea and lemme just say: ex's dad!miguel o'hara
…oh fuck yes.
Tw: cheating, p in v, age gap,
He cheated. He fucking cheated with your roommate. And now here you were, standing in a long dress at his cousin’s wedding two months later. His cousin invited you because you two became close friends, but seeing him bring your old roommate, laughing with her in front of everyone while you didn’t even bring a plus one sucked.
You look up in the mirror as you tap some cold water on the back of your neck, nervous again after seeing him kiss her cheek and then make eye contact with you.
Most of the ceremony is a blur as you can barely focus on anything but keeping your breathing even. Once it’s over, you bee-line for the open bar and quickly down a shot of vodka before hissing at the burn and reaching for a lemon or lime, anything to help with the taste.
Your arm hits something hard and you feel the front of your dress become soaked as you glance to the side to see your ex boyfriend’s father looking down at where his Old Fashioned spilled on your torso. The syrup-sticky-feeling starts to sink in as you feel gross, groaning and imagining how you must look.
“Dios, I’m so sorry.” He apologized and sighs, “this is not the way I wanted to say hello.”
“It’s ok.” You nod and sigh. “I think the bridal suite has a shower in the bathroom.”
“Let me try to clean the dress while you rinse off, yeah?” He asks and you agree, walking together in silence to the bridal suite. As he opens the door for you, he speaks. “I’m sorry about what happened with my son. He’s young, can’t hold onto the good things in his life right now.”
“Sounds like you want to get us back together.” You chuckle, though it feels dry in your throat. “Mr. O’Hara, it’s ok. It wasn’t meant to be.” You deadpan and he gives you an apologetic look, almost pity.
You head into the bathroom and as you begin to shut the door, a hand catches the knob and pushes it open once more. “Do you need help with the zipper?” His voice gets lower as he asks and you turn to see him coming closer, not even fully answering before he forces you around to look in the mirror and starts unzipping the dress. His breath is hot in your ear as he whispers, “my son doesn’t know how to keep a sexy, smart woman.” His words make you shiver as his fingers trance symbols on your back and down to your thong. “Tell me when to stop.”
“Don’t stop.” You reply and he smirks in the mirror at you, watching your eyes flutter closed as he dips his hands into the front of your underwear and rub small circles around your clit.
“Let me taste this pussy, cariño. Wanted to since the first day he brought you home.” He mumbles into your hair and lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the sink, spreading your legs and putting your knees on his shoulders as he groans at the sight of your already wet pussy. “God damn, you even smell good.”
With that, his tongue licks a stripe over your pussy, pushing your thong to the side and flicking his tongue between your folds. Your moan and lean backwards against the mirror as he grinds his nose into your clit, your legs jolting from the sudden feeling. “Good girl, let out those sounds… let me hear you moan, so sweet for me…” his comments make you thrust into his face and make him laugh deeply, then beginning to push his tongue in and out of you at a faster pace.
“Cum on my face.” He instructs you and you oblige, shaking and almost screaming from pleasure. “Good girl.”
It wasn’t your wedding night, but you still celebrated.
#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel spiderman#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel smut#atsv miguel#angst
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Those three little words were something Simon never gave much thought to. It’s not as if he didn’t believe in love. Sure he knew it was real, he’d seen it come and go with those in his life- it just wasn’t for him.
Or so he thought.
He’d been with you for nearly eight months now, and truth be told they were the best months of his life. You, who was everything Simon could’ve ever hoped for in a partner, were the one person who was finally able to peel pack years of hardened layers around Simon’s heart.
You, who finally showed him what caring for someone meant, not just on a romantic level. You, who made Simon smile more in one day than he’d ever smiled in his life. You, who made Simon’s insides turn to mush whenever he looked at you, knowing you were HIS.
You…who made Simon feel…loved… for the first time in his life. He felt truly, unconditionally loved.
It was late, on a snowy night in London, and the two of you were curled up watching Die Hard (Simon insists this is a Christmas movie). You looked up from the TV, and glanced over at Simon to find him already looking at you, a small smile lining his scarred lips.
“You okay?” You asked, returning his smile. “You know, you’re the one who insisted on watching this darn movie. If you’re not watching it, I’d be glad to turn on something -.”
“I love you.”
Your brain suddenly stopped working, your words dying in your mouth as you stared at Simon slack jawed. In your many months together, he’d not once said those words.
It wasn’t something you needed to hear, you knew in your heart how Simon felt. But to hear them… and the way he was staring at you in that moment like you were the most beautiful person on earth… you simply didn’t know what to say.
Hot tears began to form in your eyes, as you finally remembered how to speak. “Really?”
“Really.” Simon gave you a curt nod, his smile widening. “I fucking love you.”
Before your brain could catch up, you threw yourself at Simon, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you possibly could. “You have no idea how much I love you, Simon.”
But he did. And he’d spend the rest of his life, showing you just how much he loved you in return.
#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod imagine#mw2 imagine#ghost x reader#ghost mw2
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thinking about toji bringing you to get your nails done :(
content: lots of fluff ! mentions of nsfw, fem!reader
──────────────────────
thinking about how the older man is set on staying in the car and finishing cigarette instead of sitting inside with you.
“m’ not going in there doll, you’ve got the wrong one.”
“who’s gonna hold my bag?” you plead with him, holding out your little tote for good measure. “you just bought this for me! what if it gets dirty or something?”
toji looks away, taking a long drag and holding the smoke in his chest before huffing it all out. “fuck.” he mumbles, opening the driver’s side door to stamp out his cig. “fuck, fine. let’s go.”
thinking about how strikingly out of place your boyfriend would look settled in a fold out chair beside you, mindlessly scrolling on his phone to pass the time. your cream-toned tote bag rests in the middle of his lap, guarded by one of his rough hands.
you lean over as the woman in front of you begins cutting your cuticles.
“what color should i get?” you whisper, giggling at his look of utter confusion.
“i don’t kn— the regular one?” he sounds so unsure. “i don’t know.” he says with finality, looking away to quell his embarrassment.
you hear a symphony of giggles and “aww’s” from the waiting area, toji turns bright red at the attention, turning his back to the crowd of invested onlookers.
“no one’s looking.” you tell him, trying to comfort him where you could. “if you want to go back to the car you can.”
toji side eyes you from his little chair, absently thumbing the strap of your bag.
“i’ll stay.” he mumbles, whipping his phone out again to scroll through his pictures.
the woman doing your set clips and buffs out your base before beginning with your gel extensions. the older man beside you scoots closer to watch.
his phone slips into your free hand, the picture pulled up on the screen almost makes you drop the device.
“jesus— toji!”
the scar on his lips contorts as his sick grin doubles in size.
“get those again.” he teases, leaning back in his creaky chair to gauge your reaction.
your boyfriend had pulled up a picture of the two of you, though the older man was definitely the focus in the image. your smaller hand is wrapped around the base of his dick, stroking his length. the nails in question are almond shaped with chrome line art.
they’re pretty, you’ll give him that. though you’re positive the two of you had taken safer pictures together where those nails were at least somewhat visible.
“fine.” you close the photo app and place his phone face down in his lap. you relay the request to the nail tech, shifting anxiously as she pulls out the chrome powder and gel tubes.
your phone lights up with a text from the man not even a foot away from you.
“you look real pretty right now.”
your heart jumps, basking in the private show of affection. you smile up at the older man, motioning for him to scoot closer. toji snakes a heavy arm around your shoulders, ignoring the squeals of adoration from the women in the back.
he pulls your finished hand to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles.
#fushiguro toji#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji drabbles#toji fluff#toji fushiguro#toji hcs#toji headcanons#toji x reader#toji zenin#toji x fem!reader#toji x you#toji x reader smut#toji smut#toji x fem reader smut#fushiguro toji smut
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suguru hated how infatuated you were with satoru, even though he knew you meant no harm whenever you spoke about him, it still made him upset. you were supposed to be paying attention to him not satoru and the more you spoke about hm, the more suguru went out of his way to prove to you that he was better than him in all aspects.
including sex.
there was no better way to prove that you were better than someone than to prove how good you were at sex, and that's exactly what suguru did. was this petty? yes, but he wasn't going to have you drooling out the mouth about satoru so he did the only thing he could think of.
“do you want to fuck satoru?” bouncing his leg while you were on his lap, this wasn't a joke or a trick, he wanted a genuine answer. horror coating your face as you look at him, no smirk or sadness on his expression, just his regular resting face, his arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb rubbing over your hip.
“no.” just a one word answer hoping he won't dig deeper into it, and he didn't, instead he did what he had to do to prove to you that he was better than satoru, the no showed him everything he needed to see. taking the rubber band that he had resting on his wrist and tying his hair back and grabbing you by the neck, giving you a kiss.
his hand sliding to the back of your neck, resting as you fully emerge into the kiss, his sweet taste on yours. once you closed your eyes to kiss him, the next time you opened them you were on the bed and holding up your legs for suguru so that he could fuck you.
“i want you to know… that you'll always be mine okay?” and with that he lined himself up and pushed into you, letting out a groan of pleasure, your walls wrapped around him and squeezing him.
suguru proving to you that he was the overall better choice than satoru went on for two weeks straight, him beating your pussy in until he was physically tumbling over from how weak your pussy got him. you didn't know why he was fucking you the way he was, but you weren't complaining, it was like getting a reward every time you came home to suguru bending you over the counter and sliding down your panties just to eat your pussy from the back.
he knew he shouldn't have been jealous but the line of you going out to actually fuck satoru was too thin, so he had to make you fucked out for you not to do that and he succeeded. by the end of every night, the sheets were drenched with three different fluids, and you were asleep beside him as he cleaned you up, mumbling to yourself in your sleep his name.
maybe this wasn't about satoru but more about him wanting to fuck you to sleep every night, either way he loved to please you so that's what he was going to do.
“no one else can fuck you the way i fuck you… say it.” while pushing your thighs into your chest and kissing you, tears in the corner of your eyes as he pushes deep inside of you, the tip of his dick pressing on your sweet spot making your heart beat faster and pleasure jolt throughout your body. that's all suguru wanted, he wanted to hear you say those words.
to hear you say that his dick was better than anyone else's and that he's the only one who could make you cum, and all of that was true, so he wanted to hear you blabber that while he pushed his dick inside of you with no mercy.
“mm, no one else can fuck me like you suguru.” the way you said his name sent tingles throughout his spine, he didn't want to slide out of you. he wanted to stay buried deep inside of you until your pussy remembered his shape, and only he could slide into you with ease.
“there we go. that's my good girl.”
after two full weeks of fucking you nonstop with no breaks, you never brought up satoru again, suguru knew all he needed to do was fuck him out of your mind.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk suguru#jjk geto#jujutsu geto#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto smut#suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#suguru geto smut#getou suguru x reader#geto#suguru geto#getou suguru
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call me your fool — oscar piastri
oscar piastri x fem!reader [1.7k]
summary: he's pretty good at making your legs shake, but he's even better at taking care of you in the aftermath.
warnings: 18+ implied smut & explicit language, aftercare and fluffy banter
a/n: wrote this initially as a blurb, but it took on a life of its own and I just kept expanding on it until I got this. thank you for all the love lately, it means the world to me!! please don’t hesitate to leave feedback <3
It feels like your breath has been stolen from you, sucking in air through your mouth because simply breathing through your nose isn’t enough. The ache in your lungs remind you of when you go for those intensive runs with your boyfriend, where your ten kilometre jogging makes you tap out as your side cramps, whining until he eventually leads you to the nearest shop to treat you for an ice cold drink.
The sweat on your skin lays like a film, clammy and warm and it takes a while for you to blink the spots away from your eyes. It takes even longer to turn your head where it lays on the pillow, finding brown eyes staring back at you with a smile dripping with so much amusement that you would’ve laughed if you had the strength to.
“You alright?” Oscar asks, like he hadn’t just rocked your world and simultaneously turned it upside down fifty times over.
There’s a lot to be said with the way your legs are shaking, splayed out in front of you on the bed. He eyes them up appreciatively before reaching for the covers to cover your lower half as best as he could. It makes your chest expand with adoration for him, a smile playing on your lips when he scoots closer to you.
“It feels like I’ve ran a marathon.” You reply after a beat, throat dry as you swallow. “Your stamina is on a whole new level right now.”
It makes him laugh when your eyes widen in amazement, reaching a hand up to smooth your hair away from your face. He watches your skin pebble at the touch of his hand, trailing a finger up the side of your throat to your jaw.
“The perks of being a formula one driver, I guess.” He says it so modestly that you laugh, your warm huff of breath hitting his finger when he thumbs your lower lip lovingly.
You accept the kiss when he bends to give it to you, a little chapped from the previous activities but you lick into his mouth like you’re starved. It makes Oscar’s stomach turn, how needy you always are for him. It makes him feel good. Great. Like he can conquer anything if he has you by his side.
He can’t help but trail his unoccupied hand up to grasp your throat, hearing you whine and feeling you swallow against the palm of his hand. You press into his hold, almost urging him silently to put pressure on it but Oscar knows that you’ve reached your limit for tonight, you’re way too sensitive and he’d hate to cross the line even though you’re asking for it so prettily. But he can’t resist his hand travelling down your sternum, feeling the pudge of your stomach and the way it dips when you suck it in, in anticipation. Like you’re waiting for him to touch your centre and bring you to the fifth high of the night.
He stops right over your bellybutton, smiling against your lips when you stop kissing him to glare. Your faces are too close and it makes the both of you go almost cross eyed. Oscar pulls back a little to get a better look at you, breath hitching in his throat at the way your eyelashes frame your eyes so prettily; How kissable your mouth looks. You look well and truly fucked, and Oscar’s chest inflates in pride because he did that.
“You’ve really missed me, huh?” He bites his bottom lip to keep the smug smile at bay, and you roll your eyes even though your mouth is twitching with a held back smile.
You act like you hadn’t missed him, but you really had. Granted, you’d only been away from each other for two weeks but they had felt like years. There was only so much video calling and texting you could do before you grew tired and sad, wishing that the distance between the two of you could lessen and you could touch.
Oscar knows how much you had missed him, not only because you’d voiced it out loud, but because he’d missed you just as much; If not more. That’s mainly why he’d skipped the dinner with the team in Singapore in favour of locking the both of you in his hotel room, determined to make the most of this night before the race sucked every ounce of energy from his body.
“Only one part of you.” You grinned as you palmed the top of his thigh, watching him squirm at your touch as you got dangerously close to where he was sensitive and spent.
He needed at least half an hour to recuperate, but there was no stopping the slight twitch in his groin when your thumb nudged him.
“You’re a shit liar.” He leaned his head down far enough to bite your shoulder, making you squeal with laughter. He always loved how ticklish you were.
“You’re a shit boyfriend.” You said with no heat behind it, the smile on your face defeated the purpose of it. “You’re supposed to be carrying me to the bathroom and draw me a bath. Where’s my bottle of water and the tiramisu you promised me, Piastri?”
Oscar’s smile grew wider the longer you rambled, watching you silently. He loved when you got into these moods, playful and teasing after sex. Especially when he’d wrung you dry of orgasms and could get his fill of you by looking at you, letting you playfully jab at him when just moments ago, you were begging for him to be nice to you. To let you come.
“You’re not allowed to leave this bed.” He said lastly and your eyebrows shot up in amusement.
“Oh really?” You sat up in bed and stared him down. “What if I starve to death?”
“Then you’ll just have to resort to cannibalism and eat me. I hear it’s a trend these days.” He offered and you stifled a giggle.
“That’s a generous offer, I’ll take it.” You said with a nod, scrambling to swipe away the covers so you could swing one leg over to straddle him.
Oscar’s hands immediately found your hips, placing them there as you palmed his chest for support. You almost got lost in his beauty, how he managed to look as gorgeous as he did beneath you. The pink of his cheeks and the redness of his lips, it was all too breathtaking.
“Now, where to start?” You posed the question to yourself, bending down and making a show of inspecting his body. Like you didn’t know every inch of it already.
Oscar suppressed laughter as you hummed.
“This looks like a good place.” You said, touching his collarbone. “But this does too.”
His breath hitched in his throat when your fingers stroked the delicate skin of his throat, right over his pulse. It jumped in excitement under your fingers, and you must’ve felt it but he didn’t have time to analyse your face before you bent down completely to mouth at his neck.
The way you licked and sucked was way too aggressive not to leave marks, but his nerves sang with pleasure and excitement because a big part of him wanted you to mark him up. It would make things more fun when the both of you arrived at the paddock tomorrow, and he’d surely go for a shirt that did fuck all to cover it.
Oscar stroked his hands up your naked back, mouth falling open in wordless pleasure as you found his sweet spot; Right under the lobe of his ear.
You were so into it, his heavy breathing in your ear and the taste of his sweat on your tongue that you barely noticed when one hand left your body. What you did react to was when his palm made contact with your asscheek, a resounding sound echoing in the room and you jumped at the contact.
Oscar was grinning when you sat up, eyes wide and mouth gaping in shock and he didn’t dare to blink as he gripped a handful of flesh in his palm; Watching your eyelids flutter in pleasure.
“No funny business.” He warned you and you opened your eyes to pout at him. “Don’t give me that look. I’m fucking spent and you are getting in the bathtub.”
“Aren’t you getting in with me?” You frowned sadly, finding one of his hands to grab.
He pulled it closer to his mouth and separated each finger to kiss the tips of them. The little loving gesture made your stomach tighten.
“I’ve got some room service to order, don’t I?” He smiled. “You wanted that tiramisu, no?”
You gave him a slow smile as you slid off his body, swinging both your legs over the edge of the bed and Oscar took a moment to stare at you. His eyes flitted from head to toe and you squirmed a little under his attention when he sucked his lips into his mouth; Like he was holding back on saying something.
He didn't have to say it though, everything was showing in his eyes and the flush that was creeping up his neck and blossoming gorgeously over his cheeks.
"I think I want a different kind of dessert." You said, stretching a hand out and wiggling your fingers dramatically.
It made your boyfriend smile, and eventually grab your hand so you could pull each other up. It was a struggle and your legs were still shaking like your legs were bambi on ice, which was a little embarrassing. Oscar placed both hands on your naked hips in silent support, guiding the both of you into the vast bathroom of the hotel room.
"What am I gonna do with you?" He asked the question in your ear, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine as you craned your neck to peer up at him over your shoulder. "So insatiable."
The grin that you were working to keep off your face finally broke out, and Oscar leaned his head down to press a kiss to it.
"With you? Always."
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x female reader#f1 fic#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fluff
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The way Astarion reacts depending on how you compliment him in the mirror scene (I have no interest in insulting him so I won't be covering that here, have fun though!) drives me fucking insane.
"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."
And you get two types of responses. First, your choices for compliments are
Strong, piercing eyes.
The creases when you laugh.
Pick the first, and he's pleased. "Go on," he says, sounding very seductive. You're giving him exactly what he wants, and he's encouraging it.
Pick the second, and he gets upset. He's an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother! You can do better than that. Even if you meant it as a compliment (I know my Tav definitely did), he doesn't seem to take it that way.
Your second options are
That dangerous smile.
The way your hair curls around your ears.
Once again, the first one pleases him, and he even praises your efforts. Very good. Now finish the scene and tell him he's beautiful.
But if you say the second, he gets exasperated. This is meant to be flattery, not poetry. Just tell him he's beautiful and we can call it a day, he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. He doesn't need to hear this crap, just tell him what he wants and fuck off.
Of course, it doesn't matter how you get to this point, and every dialogue option at the end of the scene nets you the same amount of approval. If you call him beautiful, it's +1. Call someone else beautiful, it's +1. If you ask whether he just wants shallow praise (aka don't call him beautiful), you get +1. So this is me pulling this out of my ass I guess.
I always choose to call him beautiful becuase 1) he is and 2) my Tav thinks so too and would oblige him if he asked for it that directly.
But I am obsessed with the different routes you can take to get to this point and what they imply.
Strong, piercing eyes and dangerous smile pleases him more outwardly, but doesn't actually affect the outcome. He's satisfied and confident with these compliments. They confirm what he's trying to project into the world, what he aspires to have and to be.
The creases when he laughs? The hair curling around his ears? Those are things he can't control, can't use against someone else. But he asked to be seen, and if this is what Tav sees, then what does that mean for him?
Why are they complimenting his laugh lines? Why are they speaking poetry at him? Why are they seeing things he has no control over, and why are they revealing them to him?
He doesn't want shallow praise. Questioning this nets approval, and giving it to him doesn't increase approval. What he wants is assurance that what he's trying to be is what the world sees, that he's in control.
And if you actually act as a mirror, point out the things unique to him that you see, he gets uncomfortable, because you're showing a reflection of someone he thinks he's not, of someone he has no control over. And that's scary, even if it's supposedly complimentary.
Because what's scarier than losing control?
But then, compared to how genuinely upset he seems when you insult him (I looked these up on YT for context), the laugh lines and hair curls are still accepted as compliments. So what does he think when Tav says these things?
They see past his piercing eyes and dangerous smile. They see something else that they like even more, things he's not aware of or doesn't appreciate as much. What does that feel like, to cultivate such a perfect image of oneself for the purposes of seducing and tricking others, and then be stumped when someone walks past all that and points out something entirely different that they noticed and found endearing?
Do you do him a favor, and tell him you see only what he wants to be? Or do you speak the truth, and show him what he actually is? Which one is better? Which one is worse?
#i have my own headcanons of course and this is influenced by those#but i just ... AUGH the mirror scene!!!#bg3#bg3 meta#astarion#baldur's gate 3#long post#also 'strong piercing eyes' lmao#sad wet puppy eyes more like#also he says he feels seen with tav later on like!! AUGH#DO YOU SEE HIS WANT FOR CONTROL!! OR DO YOU SEE HIS NEED FOR RECOGNITION!! WHICH ONE DO YOU ENFORCE!!
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Benign
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
“Gentle?” he mumbled.
“Rough,” you countered.
“Baby—”
“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”
You turned onto your side.
“You still don’t remember what happened?”
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
“This Winter Soldier—”
“He isn’t me.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something new—and really, really stupid:
“Zhelaniye.”
“What?”
Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.
“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Wait—”
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
“Baby, baby, stop—”
“—pech, devyat—”
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.
“Don’t—”
“—adin—”
No time at all.
“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
“—dobroserdechniy—”
‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
“Soldat.”
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
“...Bucky?”
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
“Who the hell is Bucky?”
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.
“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
“James—”
“Zhena.”
The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
“Zhena,” he repeated.
You blinked.
“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—
“Stop!” you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
“Honey?”
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
“Bucky?”
The man looked up at you and blinked.
“Yeah, honey?”
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing—”
“My baby okay?”
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
“No, let me—”
“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
“Bucky.”
The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
“Bucky.”
He blinked.
And slowed.
“Bucky,” he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
“Years,” he answered.
“Years?”
Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”
“Since what?”
The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
“Close now?” he muttered.
Ignoring the question you’d asked.
“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
“I can’t lose you again.”
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’
You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
“James?” you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didn’t respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didn’t.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
“Baby, it’s just—”
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
“Stay.”
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.
And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.
If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Bucky’s stuck and he’s
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
“Bucky!”
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
“STEVE!”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:
“This is Mrs. Barnes?”
“Yes,” you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”
“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”
“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”
Another pause.
“Prenatals.”
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.
You hung up.
—
Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes#mob bucky#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#winter soldier#winter soldier smut
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I've seen you mention that alastor would make little deer bleats in a few fics, do you have anything for the reader hearing him bleat for the first time, like reader said something flirty that caught him off guard or while petting his ears, alastor would definitely be the time to be like "what ever are you talking about dear, you're hearing things" and try to change the subject out of embarrassment
- 🐞
I LOVE IT
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Suggestive, Explicit s e x towards the end
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor makes deer noises, usually when he's pissed off or exerting some of his power
It's a very emotional and unintentional thing, something he normally can't help or hide
Usually, you can hear buck grunts, warning calls, though elk bugle sounds dominate most of the other noises he makes
You didn't even know he was capable of making softer sounds until you found out by accident
The two of you were alone, sharing a romantic moment with you in his lap and his hands caressing your body
You had pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath when his twitching ears suddenly got your attention
Not that Alastor minded, keeping his mouth busy with your neck and shoulder instead
As if you could ever pass up the opportunity to touch those fluffy ears...
You couldn't help but scratch and rub his furry ears, leaning into kiss one while giving it a playful nip
Only to be surprised by the soft bleat that escapes from Alastor and the way his entire body goes stiff out of embarrassment
"Alastor, did you just-"
"Would you look at the time?! I must go, darling! Things to do, people to see!"
Leaves you on the floor, on your back, and in shock
You try to bring it up to him later but that doesn't work-
"Alastor, about that sound you made..."
"Hm? Oh! I merely had to clear my throat! Not to worry, darling! It won't happen again."
"But I want it to."
👀
It becomes a game between you two, well...more of a game for you, Alastor has never been so nervous in his fucking life
You're on a mission to hear that adorable noise again by any means possible
He's eating breakfast?? You're leaning over him and kissing along his neck while pouring him tea
Which doesn't work, he just tilts his head and gives you a contented growl before continuing with his meal
He's taking a small break? Eyes closed and relaxed? You try going for his ears again, massaging them
That doesn't work either, instead he gives you a warm smile and pulls you down to lay with him
You try flirting with him, maybe you can say something sultry and catch him so off guard he makes that sound again?
Instead, you just get yourself into trouble because instead of something small and subtle you just drop a fucking bomb instead
You corner him and pin him to the wall, mustering up every bit of courage and control to push forward
"Do you believe dreams can come true? Because I dream of you cumming inside me."
WHAT THE FUCK Y/N WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT PICK UP LINE
Angel
Oh that makes sense
It doesn't work, instead Alastor gets a predatory look on his face and he's pulling you closer to him
"Luckily for you, my dear~ I happen to have a soft spot for dreamers such as yourself~"
Oh fuck
It actually does end up working in your favor, just not the way you thought it would
You don't even remember how you end up naked on your back, legs spread to accommodate Alastor between them
Both of you are close, having been at it for hours at this point, desperate ragged sounds coming from the two of you
Your nails are digging into his back, no doubt leaving nasty marks that he'll later tease you for
He has one clawed hand on your hip while the other grips and makes deep grooves into the headboard
You're nearly out of it, mind fizzy and hot with the feeling of being so full of Alastor's cock that you almost miss your chance
You know exactly how to get that sound out of him
Suddenly, your legs lock around him and you're tugging him down to you to give him a desperate steamy kiss
He's caught off guard and startled but eagerly reciprocates your actions, chasing a building orgasm between you both
He pulls away to growl and pant, head rolling back as his thrusts become sharp and erratic
You tug him back to you by his hair and suddenly give him a watery smile, barely able to hold on because you're so close
"A-Alastor...haa...I love you...~"
And that's what does it, his eyes widen in surprise as he suddenly releases inside you, letting out a pathetic sounding bleat
He's so mortified afterwards, burying his face in your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair. Both of you shuddering and trying to catch your breaths
"You...you are an evil evil person..."
You can't help but laugh and kiss his head, scratching around his antlers affectionately
"I love you too, Alastor~ Every part of you~"
This one got away from me...it's probably not what you asked for but... I hope you like it!!
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.
Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day
—Digging Gaze
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞
You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt.
Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason.
A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance.
So that left you here.
You were pregnant.
You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test.
Pregnant.
It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course.
But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.
And you wouldn’t put this on him.
At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face.
“Johnny?” You ask, blinking.
The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.
“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—”
The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave.
“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.”
You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”
Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant.
Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.
“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”
“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”
“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you.
“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”
“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”
“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”
“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”
“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”
In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.
And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.
Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.
The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else.
You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink.
“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.
Damn that Scot.
“Eight and a half,” you say quietly.
Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause.
“When’s the next appointment—”
“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”
Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you.
Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.
“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.
“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”
“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.”
“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”
“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”
Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.
A daughter.
But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either.
This was new territory.
“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath.
“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”
“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”
“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.
You had more self-respect than that.
“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer.
Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon.
You frown.
You huff.
And you open the door wider.
“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”
The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.
#tw sex mention#tw pregnancy#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#cod mw22#x female reader#mw2#call of duty x you#mw2 2022#cod simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon riley#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty x reader#ghost mw2#ghost cod#cod x female reader#x fem!reader#cod mw#cod mw2#cod ghost
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unlawful duties || neuvillette x fem!reader
a/n : Im going against myself and ended up writing this big crazy ass smut of neuvillette. I WANT HIM SO BADDDD
disclaimer : dom!neuvillette , extremely sexual descriptions, implications of bondage nd choking , office s3x , slight aftercare
"im sorry but the chief of justice is busy right now madam!"
"really.. monsieur neuvillette? agh are you sure?" the beautiful blonde lady who is well known as the president of the spina di rosula was pestering poor sedene. arguing with the unfortunate melusine whose trying to prevent her from entering. navia completely doubtful at how the chief of justice was busy. when all he does is "stay cooped up in his office, if he's not in his playhouse" she quotes.
and while the madamoiselle is not wrong in some aspects, this very chief was busy with a different case.
"be quiet darling, seems like miss navia is right outside." here you were bent over the desk that is scattered with piles of paperwork, the feeling of a slender gloved hand trailing along your bare back. lips bitten harshly to the point of them bleeding, holding back any noise.
however your efforts are in vain upon the force of another hand gripping onto your neck pulling you up. the feeling of neuvillette's hot breath lingering near your ear, your forced to listen to the inappropriate words of the monsieur himself.
"you wouldn't want her to hear how dirty your moans are now would she?" he licks your neck before his lips find your sweet spot, suckling on your skin making you whimper through red stained lips.
this man who withholds so much power of the nation of justice has you wrapped around his own finger. has you bent over his very desk moaning his name loud beneath him, and it's making him go insane.
he breaks his composure at the very sight of you, feeling his breath hitch as his eyes linger between those crystal eyes and your soft lips.
those same lips which he kisses feverishly as he pounds himself into you, concealing your loud cries which beg him for more.
neuvillette's stamina is unpredictable just as he is mysterious. he could go on for hours of him shoving himself into you sweet cunt that's swallowing him ever so well. your walls which squeeze him so tight as he's pushing you further onto his desk, the court papers now long gone amidst the floor. he simply cannot get enough of you.
the chief's clothes are loosened, his white scarf is now used as restraints for your dainty hands. his own two? they are feeling every crevice of your body up from behind. his hand kneads against the plump of your ass, boldly pushing it to see your wetness engulfing him. your slick intermingling with his as he enters and exits your swollen hole. he could see all his love marks tracing from your neck and along your shoulder line, the sight makes him swell.
neuvillette lets out a breathy hiss as he feels your velvet walls tighten around him once more.
"s-so dirty for me darling. not caring if we..- ahhh, get caught.." low growls are leaving his mouth, the sound of skin touching skin echoing amongst the office. the attempts of being quiet long gone. you're moaning, whining, begging, his honor for more.
"please monsieur..."
"please what my love? I need you to use your words sweetheart." two of his long fingers are shoved in between the plump of your lips, you can taste yourself. all while he pounds one more time with his obscene force, before halting. awaiting for you to beg for his cock for his own pleasure.
"harder-mmf! please.. fuck me!" immediately he's back in his feverish rhythm, snapping into you like it's his last time fucking you.
"profanity is forbidden here sweetheart." he manages to say through clenched teeth, both of his hands now gripping onto your hips harshly.
hah, proper etiquette? the fact that you and the chief of justice are performing such debauchery in his place of work? the mannerful thought was long gone in neuvillettes head the moment you had pushed his buttons. now he's enjoying every second of ramming into you in his open office, where someone could very much catch you two committing an unlawful act at any time.
neuvillettes's ego rises at the sight of your naked back is covered in his slick, his godly handsome face is blushed from his efforts. long silver locks disheveled, his bangs damp from sweat. your cunt is dripping cum onto his hardwood floors, oh how will he explain such a mess to sedene?
"ah.. is sex also forbid-" you gasp at the sudden action of him pushing one leg up onto his table, solely so he can push even more deeper into you.
he's hitting all the right spots inside, nudging against the part you need him most and it's driving you crazy. his length proves it all, and god is he so big. you can feel him pulse within you as you both find release. your lover grunts while his wet fingers begin to fondle your clit. motioning them in the way he knows to make you quiver. all while he's leaning down to kiss you, as his seed makes you feel so full.
you could feel the bruises beginning to form on your lower back, his length now long gone. your legs still shaking upon orgasm.
"I hate you..." you manage to say between heavy breaths, your hands are finally freed from his scarf.
your nakedness is replaced with warmth, his coat being draped over you as situate yourself. your lover is already back in his dress pants, and a buttoned up shirt. you glare at him once reality has struck your head. yet he only smiles at you as he begins to clean you up from his mess.
"are you pressing charges on me now after you begged for my cock so well?" neuvillette whispers, those purple orbs are looking down at you. displaying how much lust he still has in him.
blushing at his sudden remark, he lets out a low chuckle.
"you love me sweetheart, lying is a crime you know?"
@svtcrus || 08.16.2023
©️ all rights reserved. do not copy / plagiarize my work.
#cowon.writings#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette smut#genehin impact neuvillette#genshin impact neuvillette x reader#genshin imagines
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regina’s puppy (2)
// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //
warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), slightly jealous!regina, oblivious!reader, mutual pining, annoying boys, regina being soft for reader, talks of sexuality
(this is part 2 to the series, read part 1 here)
when you walked into the cafeteria the next day, you were already fed up with the way people were acting today. ever since you got to school this morning, you were receiving various stares and hushed whispers. it caused an ugly feeling of insecurity to follow you around all morning until lunch. your eyes scan the cafeteria for the blonde, and you see her standing in line. your eyes brighten at the sight of her, and you begin to make your way to her.
“hey gina.” you greet her happily. as soon as she hears your eager voice, her eyes tear away from the person she was talking to, just to look at you. you’re wearing a baby pink long sleeved fitted top, and a pair of dark denim high waisted bellbottoms that regina exclusively picked out for you. her eyes trail up and down your body, before her lips tug into a smirk. you look so different than your usual shy, covered up self. regina’s always thought you were pretty. it was adorable how you could wear baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, along with worn out shoes, and you’d still look cute. but right now, regina thought you were—
“you look so hot.” she blurts out, and one of the jocks that’s standing nearby chimes in.
“hey, y/n, did you do something different with your hair?” he asks from a few feet away, and regina refrains from telling the blockhead to go fuck himself, but she’s curious to see how you’re going to react to the newly found attention. “yeah, i tried a new serum called, “fuck off”.” you snap, frustrated with the unwanted attention you’ve been receiving today. regina’s lips twitch and she can’t hold back the maniacal grin plastering itself onto her face. your eyes widen in regret/horror before you clasp a hand over your mouth. you get this adorably sheepish expression on your face that you flash regina; “i’m sorry, that was so mean. but you’d think i’d have a sign on my head that said “bother me” with how much people have been talking to me today.” you retort, sounding agitated.
“get used to it, y/n. they didn’t realize underneath all those hoodies, there was a girl.” she states, as she takes a tray of food, and waits for you to get yours. you snort at her comment, “that’s exactly why i wore them. they’re like an invisibility cloak.” your statement makes her genuinely laugh, and the sound never ceases to make your stomach flip. you don’t even mind the way people are whispering as they glance in your direction.
you sit right beside regina; trying to ignore the nerves bubbling in your belly. when gretchen and karen approach the table, the brunette eyes you uncertainly. “um… why are you here?” gretchen asks, and you open your mouth to respond, but regina is speaking for you. “y/n is sitting with us from now on.” regina says curtly, her tone stringent and up for no debates. “what!? but she— she didn’t take any of the tests! she doesn’t know any of the rules!! she barely has a social status!” gretchen nearly squeals, while karen offers you a smile. “i really like your top! i saw that at hollister! can i borrow it some time?” the raven haired girl asks, ignoring her best friends freak out.
regina glowers at gretchen, “you were barely anything before me, so you have no say in anything that goes on at this table.” she hisses, causing gretchen to snap her mouth shut. regina’s mood switches quickly, a content smile etching onto her face, “now that that’s settled, karen, why don’t you fill y/n in on our rules.” the blonde requests, and karen nods obediently. “rules?” you inquire carefully, and karen nods again. “yup! we have rules we have to follow in order to sit here. rule number one, don’t wear tank tops two days in a row...” she starts, and you nod as you begin to listen to the strange yet, iconic rules.
you nod along, mentally taking down each one. once karen is finished, your gaze flickers towards regina. “so for the tank top rule, do i have to wear a tank top at least once a week, or is that optional?” you ask, genuinely curious. regina lets out this uncontainable giggle that gretchen and karen had never heard from the blonde. “you don’t have to wear a tank top at all silly, but if you do, don’t wear one two days in a row.” she informs you, and you nod. “what are the tests i have to take to sit here?” you question, remembering what gretchen said earlier. regina shakes her head, “those won’t be necessary. you’ve proven your worth to me already.” she says simply, as she takes a sip of her energy drink.
gretchen gawks at the blonde; her mouth agape. she couldn’t figure out for the life of her, why regina was letting you of all people get away with this. “try this, it’s peach.” the queen bee waves her drink at you, and you take it, sipping a bit. your nose scrunches up in disgust, “ew.” you murmur, and she flashes you a pointed look before snatching the drink back. “what is that?” you question, and she flashes the can at you. “peach-nectarine redbull.” she responds, and you make a face of dissatisfaction.
“what? they’re good! aren’t they, karen?” regina asks, gesturing to the blueberry redbull beside karen’s tray of food. karen nods in agreement, “yup, regina’s fridge is full of them.” the raven haired girl chimes in, and you offer the blonde a look of dismay, “those things are heart attacks in a can, gina.” you scold her. “you shouldn’t drink them so much.” you add, and regina rolls her eyes dismissively, but her heart leaps due to your obvious concern for her wellbeing. “i don’t think i’m gonna have to worry about a heart attack till i’m like forty, y/n, relax. i need these to get through the day.” she says, and you frown.
when the bell rings, you and regina leave the cafeteria together. before you can walk away towards your next class, regina wraps a firm hand around your wrist. “did stacy agree to let you be part of the team?” she asks, and you nod. “yeah, she talked to me this morning. but i don’t think i wanna be a part of her club anymore.” you admit, and regina glowers, “why not? i swear to god if she said something else—“ regina nearly growls, but you cut her off before she can threaten stacy’s life again. “no! don’t worry, gina she didn’t say anything bad.” you promise her, causing her to search your face for any signs of dishonesty.
you don’t tell regina the only reason you no longer have an interest in debate club, is because you’d rather hang out with her after school instead. she shoots you that infamous grin that causes the butterflies in your stomach to repopulate rapidly. “well, i guess that means you can hang out with us after school now. we’re going to karen’s house today, so meet me at my locker after your last class.” regina’s request is more like a command, but you aren’t complaining.
you nod dumbly, as she walks away from you, and your eyes are glued on her the entire time. regina looks over her shoulder, catching your entranced gaze on her. it causes a fire to ignite in the pit of her stomach. she turns away, turning down the hallway and disappearing. your cheeks feel as though they’re burning, and the bell rings, indicating that you’re late for class. you shake your head, trying to push away your regina-induced thoughts before you rush to class.
throughout the rest of the school day, more boys try to talk to you. you’ve never really came out or thought twice about your sexuality; you’ve always known you were into girls. you thought it was pretty obvious, but now you were wondering if it wasn’t. “hey y/n!” micheal, one of the boys in your last period catches up to you as you walk towards the exit of the school. your step falters slightly, as he approaches you, holding the exit doors open for you.
“i was just wondering if you had any plans right now?” he asks you, flashing you a shy smile. you stop walking, feeling a bit bad as you get ready to reject him, but he continues rambling. “cause there’s this cool burger place that—” he gets cut off by that familiar voice that causes a wave of heat to surge through you. “come on y/n!” regina causes you to turn your head, there’s aways that stupid little flutter in her stomach whenever she see you. though it turns into boiling hot rage when she sees the way that boy is eyeing you shamelessly. you flash her a smile before turning back to micheal, “sorry, micheal, i have plans with regina today.” you tell him, and his face falls. he looks visibly disappointed. “oh, for sure! have fun! maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” he sounds hopeful, and you open your mouth to reject his offer again, but this time regina is intervening.
“she’s not going to be available tomorrow because she’ll be hanging out with me. again. and same answer for the day after tomorrow.” regina’s voice is harsh, and enough to make a grown man cower away. micheal looks ostensibly upset, but everyone knows better than to talk back to regina george. “come on, regina, i was just trying to ask her out—” he tries, but she cuts him off. “well don’t.” she hisses, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “look at her, and look at you. you’re like an off brand tony hawk. y/n wouldn’t go for you even if you were the last person on earth.” she cruelly says with a sneer.
“now, come on, y/n. karen’s mom always makes the best lemon squares. you’re gonna love them.” she places her hands on your upper arms; fingernails digging into the fabric of your shirt. her grip is firm but not enough to hurt. she leads you away from micheal, and you feel a surge of guilt, but also an unknown heat pooling at the bottom of your abdomen from how upset regina was about micheal. her grip on you tightens, “ugh, he seriously thought he had a chance with you. you can do better than some lame guy on the soccer team.” she rants, as she leads you towards her jeep where karen and gretchen are waiting.
“he’s in my english class. he’s always sat next to me.” you confess, and regina stops in her tracks, taking her hands off you, causing you to stop as well. you look at regina, who has her arms crossed, “well, starting tomorrow you aren’t sitting by him anymore.” she states, her tone signifying that she’s up for no disagreements. “unless you like him.” she adds, sounding borderline unrecognizable. you scoff, “you think i’d like him? i’m actually kind of insulted you think he’s my type.” you respond, and regina feels a strange sensation of relief. she doesn’t understand why the thought of you dating some sleazy guy around here made her blood boil.
regina offers you a satisfied smile, as if she wasn’t just upset a second ago. her shift in emotions is a bit concerning, but you think it’s adorable how bratty she can be, and then content not even a moment later. but maybe you were biased when it comes to regina george, because you thought everything about her was absolutely adorable. “good. then it’s settled, you’re not sitting next to him, or talking to him anymore.” she declares, and you nod obediently. “okay, gina.” your voice is so innocent and light; you don’t sound the slightest bit upset or reluctant to do as she says. she revels in it.
“good girl. come on, lets go. the girls are waiting for us.” her pleased tone sends this thrill of excitement to course throughout you. those words; “good girl”, they caused your tummy to flutter so much it felt as though it was going to burst. you were a blushing mess as regina pulls you to her car. she notices how flushed your cheeks are, and she smirks. “y/n gets shotgun.” regina says bluntly, and gretchen’s eyes widen in bewilderment. “why does she get shotgun!?” she shrieks, and regina scowls, “because it’s my car, and i said so.” the blonde snaps in response, causing gretchen to pout.
you all get into the car, and just like yesterday, regina hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she orders, and you immediately oblige. gretchen’s jaw drops in offense, “you’re letting her aux!? you never let any of us aux!” she points out, as the queen bee pulls out of the parking lot. “y/n’s taste in music is better than yours.” regina deadpans, as you put on a faye webster song. “i love this song.” karen chimes in, and gretchen huffs. “everyone loves faye webster, karen!” the brunette snaps.
karen’s house isn’t as big as regina’s house, but that isn’t shocking. you think regina might have the biggest house in town, and you aren’t even sure what her father does for work. regina was right about karen’s mother making the best lemon squares though. you shamelessly eat three, and regina is enamored as you make endless conversation with karen’s mom. the older woman finds you just as charming as most of the teachers at school do. regina wonders if they notice how sweet your smile is, or how bright your eyes shine when you talk about something you enjoy.
regina notices everything about you. the way the blood rises to your cheeks whenever she compliments you, or remembers a small detail about you. whenever your hair falls below your shoulders in thoughtless curls; she finds herself thinking about how long it takes you to curl your hair in the mornings. sometimes it’s in a ponytail, or carelessly undone. regina often wonders how someone can look so effortlessly good all the time.
she drops gretchen off at home first in order to spend some time alone with you; she tries not to dwell on why. as soon as the brunette is out of the car, regina’s tough facade is crumbling away. “did you see karen’s dads hair? it’s a toupee.” she reveals, causing your eyes to widen as you burst into a fit of giggles. regina swears her heart nearly stops beating at the marvelous sound. “seriously!?” you ask, clearly shocked, she nods, letting out a few stray laughs. “yeah, one time karen dropped it in the toilet. he grounded her for like two weeks.” she tells you, eliciting even more giggles from you. “poor mr. shetty. he seems so nice. it’s not his fault he’s bald.” you comment earnestly.
regina’s heart swells at how adorable you are, and how you look sitting in the passenger side of her car. she gets so lost in her thoughts about you, that she doesn’t even realize the lights turned green. a loud car horn pulls her out of her ongoing thoughts, causing her to scowl and beep back. “fuck you, bitch, just go around!” regina yells, as she rolls down her window to flip off the old man behind her. you gasp, but can’t seem to contain your uncontrollable laughter.
“you’re so funny, gina.” you breathe out, looking over at her with this expression of adoration, thankfully her eyes are on the road. “i’m so glad that my anger issues amuse you.” she murmurs sardonically, and you release a little chortle. “it’s not my fault you look so cute when you’re angry.” you blurt out, and your entire face changes into a shocked expression as you realize what you just said. regina glances at you, noticing your sheepish expression. she smirks mischievously, “you think i’m cute?” she asks, feigning obliviousness.
you look over at her with a face that says “are you serious?”, and you snort. “you know you’re cute! i mean, you’re regina george. you’re everything.” you say this so easily, it causes her whole world to stop spinning for a while as her inside turn to mush. you don’t even realize the words you say have such an impact on her. the blood rushes to her cheeks, and your eyes nearly widen as regina blushes because of you. “i’ve been called a lot of things before but never “everything”.” she tries to sound nonchalant, and taunting like she always does, but her voice comes out abnormally soft. she doesn’t even recognize herself.
when she turns to get a quick look at you, she sees you’re already staring at her. your eyes hold such a look of admiration as you gaze at her. “i’m just being honest.” you respond, looking away shyly. regina’s heart is in her throat, as if it’s trying crawl its way out of her and into your lap. she tries to focus on driving, but she can’t stop stealing glances at you.
“earlier when you said micheal wasn’t your type, were you just saying that, or were you being honest?” she asks randomly, breaking the short silence. you furrow your brows, “why would i lie about something dumb like that?” you ask in response, and regina shrugs. “so i would shut up about it.” she suggests, and you frown. “i never want you to shut up though. i like hearing you, even when you’re mad.” you reveal truthfully, making her heartbeat stutter. “but i was being serious about micheal not being my type. no guy really is…” you trail off sheepishly.
there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing regina’s suspicions were correct. you’re into girls, and regina knows you’re into her. she can feel it, and your behavior proves it. “good.” the blonde says, sounding more than pleased as she turns into your neighborhood. regina was right about you; she was definitely going to be able to have as much fun with you as she thought.
a/n: @kate03-27 hope you enjoy!
also, comment if you wanna be tagged in the next part :) thanks for reading <3
#regina george x fem reader#regina george x y/n#regina george x you#regina george x reader angst#regina george mean girls#renee rapp x fem!reader#renee rapp x reader#regina george x reader#regina george x fem!reader#regina george#renee rapp#renee rapp x y/n#mean girls
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home to you | op81
oscar piastri x fem!reader
summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.
word count: 2,978
warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst
masterlist — join my tag list here!
this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
Your sunburn is peeling.
Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.
“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.
“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”
“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”
“I know,” you reply quietly.
As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.
You think he doesn’t feel the same way.
When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.
So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.
He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.
“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”
“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.
“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”
Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”
“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”
“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”
You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”
“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.
“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”
“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”
“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.
He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.
You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”
His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”
You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”
“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”
“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.
“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”
“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.
“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Osc.”
You hang up first.
“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.
You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.
Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.
Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.
Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.
“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.
“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”
“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.
Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??
“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.
“Always here for you, mate.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I don’t care.”
That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”
He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.
She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.
“It’s about-”
“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.
“You do?”
“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”
“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.
“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”
“It never did.”
She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”
She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.
The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.
“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”
Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.
He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.
He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.
“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”
“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.
You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.
He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”
I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.
“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”
“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”
“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”
“Can we talk inside?”
“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.
He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”
“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”
“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”
“You didn’t, though.”
“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.
“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”
You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”
“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.
“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”
“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”
You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”
“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.
You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.
“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”
You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”
“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”
You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”
You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.
“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”
“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”
“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.
“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”
“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”
“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”
You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.
The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.
It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.
The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.
“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.
“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.
“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.
“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”
“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.
“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.
“I love you,” you whisper back.
No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.
note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
dividers by @/saradika !
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#full fic#op81 week#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fluff
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LISTEN. HEAR ME OUT. eddie and Best friend!reader petty arguing, right, so reader says 'ooh you wanna kiss me soooo bad' and he does.
Hear ME OUT!!
What about we sprinkle in some jealous!Eddie too give it the ol'razzle dazzle.
Jealous! Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!reader
Warnings: fluff, some cursing, kissing that's about it.
Not proofread ignore mistakes.
Eddie has been in a pissy mood all damn week. He was short with you. He was snappy and just passive all around. The bottom line is that he was being a real asshole to you. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what made him this way. You chalked it up to him, barely getting any sleep. Maybe he cut back on smoking and is dealing with those withdrawals.
Doesn't matter at this point he was a dick and taking it out on you specifically. Ever since you went out on that date with his friend, Eddie has been insufferable. Little did you know that's the exact reason he's been moody with you.
He was jealous. You were his, and he had to watch his friend pick you up for a date. He sat in his room thinking about his friend kissing you. His friend holding your hand, and God knows what else you two did on your date together.
But you've had about enough of his attitude. You were sitting on his bed flipping through his heavy metal magazine while he tuned up his guitar.
"Hey, eddie, can you turn on the tv?" You looked before turning another page. You weren't even reading the comic. You were more interested in the artwork than anything the plot.
"Turn it on your damn self." He already sounded aggravated with you. "And stop turning those damn pages like that you'll rip them."
He rolled his eyes and turned his chair to face more away from you.
You huffed immediately, getting fed with him now." Alright, what hell is your problem?"
You slammed down his magazine, crossing your arms over your chest. You felt your face heating from the anger rising inside of you. You've dealt with his mood swings before, but that's because they were never directly pointed at you. Not until recently.
"I don't have a problem." He shrugged, still refusing to face you.
"Oh yes, you do. You've been a complete douche all week."
He smirked and finally turned around. "I've been a douche? Me? Maybe I wouldn't be such a douche if you weren't so fucking annoying."
"I'm not annoying!" You defended yourself, raising your voice slightly.
"Oh, but yes, you are. All you do is yap all day long, and I gotta listen to it." Eddie, let out a condescending laugh after you argued back with him.
You squinted your eyes, "Yeah, well, at least I'm not walking around with a stick up my ass."
You could hear him growl something under his breath. His lips were pressed in a tight line.
"You're right. I do have a stick up my ass. How about you get your ass up and turn on the TV because my ass is currently busy with a stick rammed up it." His voice was dripping with sarcasm while bickering back and forth with you.
You rolled your eyes and got up off his bed to turn on the TV. You messed with the volume until it was as high as it could go. You were purposely trying to press his buttons. You wanted a reaction out of him. You wanted that last word, and you were going to get it. He couldn't hear himself think or focus on what he was currently doing.
Eddie jumps up from his chair and turns down the TV. You just stay standing there, twisting the nob to it turn back up. You're both staring each other down in the process.
"You're bein- he went to speak, but you raised the volume up again, cutting him off.
Eddie let a deep breath and turned the tv back down once more. His face is all red, and sets his guitar back against his dresser. "You're being reeeeeally petty right now. I'm trying to tune up my guitar."
"Yeah?...so?" You slowly turn the TV up again with your eyes locked onto his.
His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare. You decided to mess with him. You wanted to rile him up some more. He rubbed his hands down his face.
You watched him closely, and a little idea sparked in your head. You don't know what really came over you. Probably, his attitude with you has finally made you lose your mind or something.
"Ooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad right now, huh?" You taunted him.
There was always this unspoken crush between the two of you that was mutual. You were being mean, and you didn't care. You were past your limit right now. You wanted to get under his skin, and it was working.
He doesn't say anything he just looks at you. He steps closer, leaving very little room between the two of you. Without any warning, his lips came crashing down into yours. His hands go up to hold both sides of your face gently. His soft lips locked with yours as his tongue slipped past them.
The kiss was sloppy but passionate. He didn't care if your teeth clashed a little bit. He needed to do this. You felt light-headed while your tongues fought for dominance. Your face felt all tingly, and your hands moved up to grip onto his forearms. Only a few seconds have passed, but it felt like hours. Time stood still as you made out with your best friend in his bedroom.
He let go of your face and moved his lips slowly away from you. He had a smug expression on his face. Your eyes flutter back open, and you swallow. You're breathing heavy, and you don't know if it's from the kiss or from the fight you and Eddie were getting into. Or a combination of both.
"Why have you been so mean to me all week?" You whispered your fingers, move up to trace over your own lips. You could still feel traces of him on your mouth.
Eddie looked at you and with a sad smile. "I couldn't get over the fact that you went on date with my friend Cody."
Your eyebrows raised. "You-- You were jealous of Cody?" You were in disbelief. Here you thought he was just annoyed being around you.
You couldn't believe he would be so irritated over that date. It was one date, and you were miserable. Plus, it's not like you haven't seen him take home his fare share of women from the bar.
Those nights where he would be out with a made you feel sick to your stomach. But you never once took it out on him like this. You shake those thoughts and try to listen and understand where he is coming from. Right now, it's about him, not you. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and because of that, he was more prone to lashing out.
"Well, yeah, just the mere thought of him being so close to you really upset me. I know I've been a dick but I just couldn't help it." He plopped back down in his chair.
You moved to sit at the edge of his bed. Your legs felt like they were going to give out after kissing him.
"Why didn't you say something?" You sighed and picked at your chipped nail polish.
"I don't know.. I don't want to mess up what we have." He gestured between the two of you. His voice was a lot softer now than is has been all week.
You nodded and understood why he felt like he couldn't express his feelings. "Can you kiss me again?"
Eddie's eyes dart up, and he looks a little surprised. "Can i?"
You couldn't have actually wanted to kiss him again? He thought to himself. He was already feeling guilty for just happened. He felt his heart start to race again.
You smiled and nodded, "I wish you would have kissed me sooner."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x you#eddie x you#eddie munson fluff
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