#thanks for sending a prompt! i hope you liked it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finniestoncrane · 2 days

Note

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, rimming, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #if this flops I’ll nuke everything by the way this fuckin behemoth stressed me out so much lmaooo #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

892 notes · View notes

wheeboo · 2 days

Text

all yours | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which you get a bit too drunk on your special day. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of drinking alcohol and throwing up, reader has long enough hair to be pulled back, cursing, terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.4k

requested from anon: Hi hope all is well, just wanted to say Congrats on the milestone! You deserve it! And if it’s okay I would like to request #29 and #52 from prompt list 1 with Jeonghan thank you in advance if you do it. Congrats again to 2k you honestly deserve it :) - #29: "I do love you, you know. Even if I'm shit at showing it." - #52: "Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

notes: thank u sm anon 😭🫶 ur so so sweet ily AAAA sending consensual smooches ur way 😚😚 also genuinely did not know what to title this lmfao

join the 2k celebration!

Okay, maybe you've had a bit too much to drink tonight.

It's your birthday anyway, so surely you have the right to go a little bit overboard on your special day... right?

"Ugh, I feel like shit," You mumble groggily, your body drifting and hitting the bathtub right next to you with a thud as the sounds of the toilet flushing bounce off the walls of the bathroom.

Jeonghan just crosses his arms together, leaning against the doorway with a sly smirk to his face. His eyes peer over your flushed face, slightly tousled hair and overall cute, disheveled appearance. You huff a breath as your gaze meets his, and a small, almost dreamy smile of your own forms on your face despite knowing how absurd you look right now.

"How do I look?" You ask, drawing your words out drunkenly.

"Honestly?" Jeonghan starts, and you lift a brow in anticipation. "You look ravishingly awful."

The words that leave his mouth has your face twisting in confusion, your brain hardly processing whatever the hell he just said (you'll take it as a compliment nonetheless, thanks to your cloudy mind).

However, Jeonghan just chuckles, fully stepping his way into the bathroom and towards where you are plopped down on the tile floor. He carefully sits himself down on the rim of the bathtub, expression softening right away with concern as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth on your face from the alcohol to his fingers.

You lean into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a few seconds. "My body is going to hate me in the morning."

Jeonghan retracts his hand slightly, but not before his fingertips lingers your cheek, sending a jolt through your already-buzzing body and causing your eyes to flutter open. You can feel the heat creeping back up your neck, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"Hmm, not if I take care of you real well, yeah?" he muses teasingly, and you could only groan in response, feeling the alcohol earlier make your head spin once more. But a tiny, sober part of you registers the warmth in his gaze.

That is, until you can start to feel something bubble up your throat, and before you can react, your stomach lurches, and you're scrambling for the toilet just in time to expel the contents of your stomach. You heave and retch, feeling utterly miserable as Jeonghan helps by pulling back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly.

As the wave of nausea passes, your hand releases its hold on the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. You lean back once more, nearly toppling over before Jeonghan's hands catch you by the shoulders, helping to straighten up your posture. You let out a sluggish sigh.

"Well, maybe you're not wrong about your body hating you," he says jokingly, then squeezes your shoulders right after as if reassure you. "I would not want to be the receiving end of all... that."

You roll your eyes in playful annoyance and yank his grip off you, his laughter ringing in your ears. "I... Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

A feigned gasp leaves Jeonghan as he dramatically clutches his chest. But the inebriated glare you throw his way doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. You catch the way his face quickly dissolves into his horribly distinguishable shit-eating grin.

"Ah, you figured out my secret, my dearest," he responds with an exaggerated flair, cupping your face gently with his hand. "You getting wasted made you more perceptive than I thought."

You swat at him weakly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're impossible."

"Only for you." He cheesily presses a kiss to the top of your head. "How are you feeling? Can you stand up?"

"Mmmh... help me?" You laggardly open your arms up to him, a pout forming at your mouth.

Your eyes are too heavy to catch the way Jeonghan is gazing at you so adoringly right now. He takes your outstretched arms and helps to hoist you up to your feet. For a moment, you're eye-to-eye, your head spinning slightly from the sudden movement and the world tilting a little as you stand.

Jeonghan secures a hand at your lower back as he carefully leads you out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom, catching a glimpse to the remains of the party from earlier scattered about the room. Balloons hang lazily at the ceiling, confetti laying across the floor𑁋you can deal with it in the morning.

"You're a hot mess," he comments teasingly, though there's a fondness in his tone as he guides you to the bed.

You flop down onto the mattress with a groan, the softness of the pillows cushioning against your throbbing head. Jeonghan disappears for a minute to retrieve a bottle of pills from the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen, placing it on your bedside table before sitting down beside you, his hand reaching out to brush hair away from your forehead.

You crack open an eye to look at him, feeling yourself trying so hard to not fall asleep on the spot.

"Do... you think they know?"

Jeonghan looks back down at you. "Who?"

"Every... Everyone who came today, uh..." You mutter, motioning the air with your hand. "I didn't... do anything weird out there, right? We haven't really told anyone about us yet..."

Jeonghan purses his lips together, eyelids fluttering as if he's trying to remember the events of the party. He crosses his arms together, and you should probably know from the smirk appearing at his face that𑁋

"Hm, like, weird as in when you tried to kiss me earlier after you sang karaoke? Or𑁋"

"Are you being serious right now?!" There's a long, drawn out unintelligible sound that you whine as you bury your face into the pillow, the cool fabric soothing against your flushed cheeks. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid..."

"My love, I still don't entirely understand why we have to hide it," Jeonghan says gently, his fingers trailing lightly along your arm. "Your affection is pretty obvious, you know."

You snort at that, but you can't really deny it anyway since yeah, you are pretty affectionate with him. And it isn't that you don't want people to know. The thought of people knowing is completely fine, but it's really just that your friends can be absolute nutcases sometimes, and you really don't want to be at the teasing end of the stick right now when all you want is a bit of privacy, at least in the beginning.

"I just... I want you all to myself, you know?" You ramble drowsily, words still slightly slurred. "Just wanna... um, keep this between us for now. N-Not that I'm ashamed or anything, I just... want this to be ours."

Jeonghan lets his eyes take you in for a few moments, a soft look gracing over his features. He glances down at the way his hand seems to seems to instinctively find yours, your fingers intertwining loosely. Frankly, he’s already yours𑁋been yours from the moment the thought of you started to become a frequent visitor to his head.

"Of course," he assures lightly, not taking his eyes off you even while adjusting the pillows so you're in a more comfortable position. "Get some sleep now, okay?"

"M'kay," You utter out, feeling the weight of the bed lift when Jeonghan stands up. Yet as a thought crosses your mind, you call out to him, "Jeonghan?"

He pauses, turning back to look at you with gentle eyes.

"I... I do love you, you know," You confess slowly, almost hesitantly, like that small flicker of sobriety had finally peeked through the haze of alcohol. "Even if I'm shit at showing it."

Jeonghan feels his heart racing in his chest, and the heat flaring at the tips of his ears. On the surface, it's normally hard to detect such reactions to whatever loving, cheesy, romantic stuff you've said to him (since usually, he'd rather tease you into the grave instead). But on the inside, his heart is practically doing cartwheels, somersaults, and backflips all at once𑁋he would quite literally do anything for you.

"Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?" he remarks playfully.

You only shrug loosely, eyelids drooping from exhaustion. "I might... maybe. But, uh, at least you know, right?"

His lips just curl up lovingly. Even if you don’t remember it, those three words would be the first things he would say every morning anyway.

"I love you too, angel," he says against the skin of your temple. "Happy birthday."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

306 notes · View notes

witchywithwhiskey · 2 days

Note

Hey! For the spring time drabbles I would love to see Lloyd Hansen (this moustach… I swear…) with smut no. 75. “you’ll cum as many times as i want, got it?”

ruining a perfect springtime date

pairing: boyfriend!lloyd hansen x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, restraints, light bondage, light bdsm, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, pet names, possessive behavior, established relationship

word count: 1,300ish

a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt!!! Lloyd absolutely would say something like this, so it wasn't hard to come up with an idea for this little ficlet 😏 i hope you enjoy it!!! ♡♡

The forecast had called for a beautiful spring day—warm, but not too hot, and plenty of sunshine to make sure the constant breeze didn’t get too chilly. Excitement filled your heart like champagne bubbles as you eagerly bopped around your room, getting ready for the day.

Your boyfriend, Lloyd Hansen, had planned the perfect springtime date. He’d bought a few tickets for a spring garden where the two of you could ride around on bicycles together, taking in the gorgeous blooms and soaking up the sun. Then, he’d booked a reservation at a sweet little restaurant with the most beautiful outdoor patio, where you could eat outside and watch the sunset together.

You paused just as you were spritzing on perfume and smiled to yourself, thinking about asking Lloyd for his jacket at dinner because you’d conveniently forgotten a sweater. You could already imagine the warmth and comfort of being wrapped up in his jacket, and it only made you redouble your efforts to finish getting ready so your date could start.

Lloyd was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs of the home you shared together, and you made yourself slow down so he could get the full effect of the effort you’d put into your date outfit and makeup. As slowly as you could manage with how excited you were, you flounced down the stairs, feeling your boyfriend’s gaze on your body.

You’d worn your favorite sundress in honor of your date, the cotton hugging all your curves perfectly to emphasize your body, while the hem was short enough to be flirty without showing too much thigh. It was sweet and a little sexy, and you thought Lloyd would love how good it made you look. Or so you thought.

But as you watched your boyfriend’s face while you descended the stairs toward him, you saw his expression darken. By the time you stepped off the last stair, Lloyd’s face was positively stormy, his blue eyes dark as the sky during a spring rainstorm.

Without a word, Lloyd prowled toward you and threw you over his shoulder, making you shriek in surprise. He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he carried you back to the bedroom you shared. When your sounds of surprise quieted, you realized he was muttering to himself.

“Look so fucking pretty in that sundress,” he grumbled to himself, his big hand gripping your soft thigh firmly so you couldn’t squirm off his shoulder. “How’m I supposed to keep my hands off you, huh?” he asked, but didn’t stop his muttering so you knew he didn’t expect an answer. “Woulda had to shoot every man that looked at you too long, woulda had to show them all you’re mine.”

Lloyd tossed you down on the king-size bed you shared, his mouth twisting in a snarl that had desire blooming deep in your core. His darkened eyes fell to your legs, where the hem of your dress had ridden up an indecent amount, his gaze staring at your thighs like he was greedy for them. But Lloyd held himself back.

Instead, he stood at the foot of the bed and slowly unbuckled his belt.

“You’ve done it now, princess,” Lloyd growled, his gaze drifting up your body to your face. “You’re not moving from this bed until I’ve had my fill of you, do you hear me?” His expression was furious, but there was a heat in his gaze that had you melting for your man. “You’ll come as many times as I want, got it?”

A part of you wanted to pout that Lloyd was ruining your perfect springtime date, but a much bigger part of you was eager for the punishment he had in mind. So you nodded, a breathy, “Yes, sir,” falling from your parted lips.

Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile and then he climbed on the bed, crawling up your body and gathering your hands above your head. Using his belt, Lloyd tied your hands to the headboard of the bed, checking with you to make sure the restraints weren’t too tight before he moved back down your body.

Your boyfriend settled between your thighs, pushing your legs wide so your sundress gathered around your waist. Without further preamble, Lloyd buried his face in your panty-covered core, breathing in so deeply, it made you squirm, desire leaking from your hole.

“Can smell how wet you are already, angel,” he groaned, his eyes flicking up and catching yours. Lloyd held your gaze while he ran the flat of his tongue over your pussy, teasing you through your panties. It was so hot, you squirmed, but Lloyd just grabbed your hips and pinned you to the bed, holding you still for him. “Patience, peanut, I’ll taste your sweet honey when I’m good and ready.”

A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your mouth as Lloyd continued to tease you, his smirk deepening while sweat gathered at your temples. When your hands tugged impatiently on the restraints, Lloyd chuckled against your pussy, his mustache teasing your clit through your panties and driving you wild.

Finally, when your panties were soaking wet from your desire and his tongue, Lloyd tore them from your body and dove into your cunt, eating you out like a starving man.

That first time, your release came fast and hard, crashing over you like an unexpected wave that would’ve knocked you off your feet if you’d been standing. Pleasure the likes of which only Lloyd could give you swept through your body as you cried out for him, your thighs tightening around his head and body trembling through it all.

But Lloyd was nowhere near done. Your boyfriend treated you to another release. Then another. Then another.

And another.

He kept going until your mind was so blown with pleasure you could no longer keep track of how many times you’d come on Lloyd’s face, your juices gushing into your boyfriend’s mouth while he drank them down greedily, his mustache rapsing over your soft, sensitive skin.

When Lloyd replaced his tongue with his fingers, he used his mouth to tell you how pretty you looked in your sundress—how fuckable you were, and how he needed to keep you all to himself when you looked so gorgeous. You were his and his alone and he needed to show you just what it meant to belong to him.

By the time Lloyd pushed his hard, weeping cock into your wet, swollen cunt, you were delirious and exhausted. But the feel of your boyfriend’s cock sinking into you made you moan wantonly and yank weakly on the belt still tied around your wrists. You wanted desperately to wrap your arms around Lloyd’s broad shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your boyfriend pounded into you until you came again, swallowing your mindless moans with his kisses. Then, finally, he released your hands from his belt.

As quickly as he could, Lloyd divested both of you over your clothes, rubbing your aching shoulders and wrists, then slid back inside you. That time, he took you slow and sweet, rocking into your thoroughly used cunt and cradling your face in his hands while he told you how well you did for him.

Lloyd murmured against your lips that you were his perfect good girl and, impossibly, you managed to give him one more release. You came at the same time as your boyfriend, the two of you clinging to one another as your bodies came together in the most intimate way.

As you let yourself succumb to exhaustion, you had to admit to yourself that Lloyd may have ruined your perfect springtime date, but he more than made up for it.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #precious1610

126 notes · View notes

gallawitchxx · 3 days

Note

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

#welp - throws whatever this is at you #alskfjalkj #i realized that both of my kisses are at the very end of the ficlet & aren't actually described #lolol #maybe my next attempt should be 1K words of just describing the kiss #no actual context needed #just tongues #anyway THANKS DEANNA I LOVE YOU DEANNA #shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

72 notes · View notes

piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 17 hours

Note

hiiiii i'm here to give you a big hug and request a 1k prompt 🙌

1. a biiiiiig hug

2. as for the (hehe smutty) prompt!

i think i would LOVE to see ed feeling vulnerable and safe enough to share with stede that a lot of things don't work for him in bed because of his knee and at first he is cautious and worries stede will get angry or frustrated with him, but of course stede showers him with love and care and thinks of a hundred ways to have sex that are not painful or uncomfortable for him 🫶

Ooh I really loved this one, thanks so much for sending it in (and sending you a hug right back)! Get absolutely adored and cherished Ed!!

Under the cut since this one's a bit nsfw! I'd put it at a strong M rating, no explicit sexual content but obviously it's about sex.

Ed had never really owned up to how fucking inconvenient the knee could make things, not before.

See, there are certain things that are mood- killers, and then there are things that are straight-up dangerous to admit, and Ed’s little problem was both. The hookups Ed was used to wouldn’t just laugh at him for being in pain during sex, they would’ve taken it as a sign of weakness. A sign that Ed was vulnerable, weak, easy to exploit and to harm.

So, usually, he just put up with it. If it was awful, like if a guy pushed his legs back, forcing the knee to bend at a harsh angle, he might find some excuse to change it up, but usually he just closed his eyes and hoped his grunts of discomfort sounded pleasured instead of pained. He would close his eyes, after, breathing through the pain, vowing that he’d never have sex in a painful position again for the rest of his life, cautiously listening to make sure whatever guy he’d taken to bed wasn’t trying to pull any shit. Rinse and repeat a few weeks later.

Stede, though. Talk about a hell of a difference.

He’d figured out that Ed didn’t like some things, Ed thought. He never held down Ed’s bad leg, never forced the knee to bend. Rubbed the joint so tenderly after sex. And that maybe should’ve made it easier to admit to his problem, but Stede made Ed feel so good, and he wanted to return the favor, and…

“Ed, honey, you’re somewhere else tonight.”

Ed sniffed, shifted. They’d been breaking in their new bed (still called it that, even though they’d been breaking it in for a couple months now), and he was half in Stede’s lap, legs flung across Stede’s thighs. He should’ve felt perfect.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and when Stede’s light, appraising touches traveled down his leg, rubbing lightly at his knee, he hissed, the pain making him flinch involuntarily.

Stede kissed his fingertips, then touched them feather-light to Ed’s knee. “Does it hurt?”

“Just stiff,” Ed said dismissively.

Stede just hummed. Ed knew he wouldn’t force the issue.

“I, uh…” Ed cleared his throat. “What would you say if I said I didn’t think I should ride you anymore?”

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Stede’s face -

“I’d say that was fine,” Stede said easily. “Why? Does it make your knee hurt when we do that?”

“Maybe a little,” Ed admitted softly.

“Okay,” Stede said, and he positioned his hands around Ed’s knee, rubbing his thumbs gently along the sore, tender joint, working out the stiffness of exertion. Ed hissed, his face scrunching up at the sensation, and Stede just cooed soft apologies.

That was - that was it, though, wasn’t it? Ed knew he was safe to let Stede see him in pain. Stede hadn’t ever gotten angry or frustrated with him for being in pain or needing help with his knee before, why would this be any different?

“Um,” Ed started haltingly, “I actually think maybe we might need to be a little more careful. During intercourse. With my knee. If that sounds alright to you. Maybe.”

When he opened his eyes, Stede was getting that pinched line between his eyebrows.

“Ed?” Stede pulled Ed a bit more securely into his arms, and Ed sighed in satisfaction at the feeling of Stede’s arms around his waist. “Have you been hurting? While we have sex? Have I been hurting you?”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Stede let his breath out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to ever do anything that hurts you. Not ever. Especially not when we’re trying to do something that’ll make us both feel good. How can I help keep you comfortable?”

“Well…” Ed grimaced. “Bending my knee is what hurts the most.”

“Alright,” Stede said thoughtfully, and Ed could see the wheels turning in his head. Taking out positions that required Ed to bend his knee took so much off the table. Riding, giving blowjobs, even fucking missionary, and Ed was a bit terrified he’d just ruined their sex life.

Clearly, he’d underestimated Stede Bonnet’s creativity.

Ed should’ve known he was in for a treat when he caught Stede woodworking in the backyard and was given a full presentation about all the features of the “blowjob stool” he was building, a seat designed to cushion and support Ed’s knee while putting him at perfect dick-sucking height.

Stede was endlessly thoughtful when adapting positions they already liked, too. Ed liked being taken from behind; they discovered that a pillow under his hips kept him comfortable and allowed him to keep his legs straight. When Ed missed looking into Stede’s eyes during sex, they experimented with variously supporting his knee with pillows or propping his ankle on Stede’s shoulder. Spooning, bent over a desk, the good ol’ 69… not all of Stede’s ideas or little inventions worked, but the ideas he had for supports to keep Ed comfortable meant it was the best sex Ed had ever had, full stop. It was really damn nice to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about being in pain.

The best parts, though, weren’t just the sex itself.

They’d found that Ed’s knee was least painful when his muscles were relaxed and when he was feeling good, so they often had a warm bath first. It was fun foreplay, and relaxing together while Stede rubbed tiger balm into the joint in the afterglow was the perfect way to snuggle and talk about what they’d enjoyed.

“I’m glad I told you,” Ed whispered one night, tracing their initials over Stede’s heart as they cuddled, Ed’s bad leg slung over Stede’s hip to keep it propped up.

“Me, too,” Stede said, kissing Ed’s cheek.

Ed was learning, still, that he’d never have to just put up with pain again. And it was soft, soft, as smooth and sweet as honey.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics #always accepting prompts for 1k fics! Don't be shy!

57 notes · View notes

da-proti-toku-grem · 1 day

Note

17 Jance mayhaps (if you already did it I'm sorry, I love ur style and reading your prompts!!)

Thank you so much 🥰. I think I've officially lost the battle with my “I'm keeping these short” thoughts because this is almost 1.8k oops 😅.

As always, ao3 link at the bottom if you prefer to read it there <3

(Rating: Mature)

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

17. … to distract.

“Please, Nacko,” Jan begged from his place on the couch.

Knowing that they had an interview the next morning, Nace had offered Jan to stay at his house. After all, it was no secret that the guitarist was by no means a morning person and, being the one who lived closest to where the interview would take place, it seemed only reasonable to offer him a place to sleep without the need to drive from Vrhnika to Ljubljana in the early morning.

And maybe – and just maybe – something inside his chest was also tickling under the pretext of seeing Jan's gorgeous face when Nace inevitably woke up before him, his features relaxed and his hair tousled. No one needed to know that, though. He was more than willing to take the secret to his grave. It wasn't like someone like Jan would ever look at him that way, anyways.

Once they arrived at the apartment, Nace offered Jan a glass of wine. The bassist himself didn't drink anymore, but he liked to always have something to offer to his guests – in this case, a bottle of red wine.

And that's how they had gotten to this situation, Jan sitting cross-legged on the couch, an empty glass on the small table in front of him and looking up in the direction of Nace, who was standing on the other side of the table, with his pajamas already on and holding the bottle in his hand.

“I've already told you, Jan,” he said, a hint of tiredness in his voice. “You know that on any other occasion I wouldn't mind you drinking more, but we have an interview tomorrow and we can't risk you having a raging hangover because you drank the whole bottle of wine by yourself.”

“...Please?” Jan asked again, pouting and looking up at him with those beautiful dark puppy eyes that had no right to be so adorable. That, combined with the fact that his improvised pajamas were his boxer shorts and one of Nace's old t-shirts that was definitely too big on him – the length reaching almost halfway down his thighs and the collar being so wide that it left one of his shoulders exposed, as well as a bit of his chest hair – was definitely not helping Nace keep his thoughts pure.

He thought about how his hands would feel exploring the skin under the t-shirt or pulling on those gorgeous black locks, how he'd look up at him with his big brown eyes just like that while Nace fucked his mouth, taking it all like the good boy he knew he could be; how he’d love to kiss and bite and mark that exposed skin on his shoulder and neck until everyone knew who he belonged to, how he'd beg even prettier for Nace to touch him, to make him feel good; how he'd look all sweaty and ruined with his head thrown back, moaning Nace's name at the peak of his pleasure as he pounded into that sweet spot inside him over and over and-

Nace really needed to stop his train of thoughts right there before this ended in a terribly embarrassing situation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” He smiled at him apologetically, setting the bottle down on the table as he took a seat on the other side of the couch, hoping the other didn't notice the slight blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “I know you probably don't want to go to sleep yet so… anything else you want to-”

The question died on the bassist's lips as he suddenly felt Jan straddle his thighs, resting his hands gently on his chest.

Nace simply remained still, his body a bit tense and his eyes wide open in surprise. He still didn't look at the guitarist's face, a million questions running through his mind when all of a sudden the weight of the younger man in his lap and the burning touch of his hands on his chest clouded his senses.

Eventually, he dared to look up, finding Jan's eyes, those eyes that made Nace's knees go weak and that accompanied him in his most sinful fantasies, looking back at him with that smirk he always had plastered on his face when he had an idea. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nace had fallen right into his trap.

“Hello there, Mr. Jordan,” Jan said, his deep voice reverberating in Nace's brain, as his hands went up to cup his cheeks.

He didn't respond, his own hands moving to Jan's thighs, over his t-shirt, while his eyes were flicking from the other's eyes to his lips and then up again and oh how much he'd like to send it all to hell and close the distance between them and-

Before he knew it, Jan's lips were on his.

Nace didn't move his hands, the uncertainty of not knowing how far Jan was willing to take this surpassing the urge to touch every single part of the other's body; but he started to reciprocate the kiss, taking everything Jan had to give him and trying to burn it into his memory, almost as if he was afraid that it was all a dream product of his treacherous imagination and he might wake up at any moment.

Their lips moved slowly against each other, his mouth opening in a silent invitation that Jan didn't hesitate to take, tongues dancing together in a rhythm known only to them.

Everything was so sultry, so sensual, so… Jan. It was intoxicating. And Nace didn't think he would ever get enough of this.

All too soon, the guitarist broke the kiss, pulling away completely and taking his place back on the couch. Nace immediately missed the warmth of his body pressing against his own.

“W-what was that for?” he asked after a few seconds, trying to sound nonchalant despite the deep blush he felt covering his face.

“Nothing,” Jan shrugged. “Can't I just kiss my really hot friend?”

At that, Nace looked up, meeting that mischievous grin before his gaze finally fell on the bottle that had somehow ended up in Jan's hands. Little shit.

“Oh hell no, come here,” he tugged at his arm and in one swift motion took the bottle from him, setting it safely on the table, and took him back into his lap, making him let out a surprised gasp.

“Well, I guess this will do too,” Jan smirked, moving his arms up to wrap them around Nace's neck, tangling his hands in the soft curls at the nape of his neck and drawing him into another kiss.

Nace didn't hold back this time, all the blood he had been trying to suppress from traveling south now rushed to his cock as his hands began to caress the body of the man on top of him.

The touch of his cold hands against the warm skin of his thighs sent a shiver down Jan's spine. Nace's hands traveled up his thighs, slowly slipping under his shirt until they reached his waist, grabbing it and moving his body so they could start grinding against each other.

Deep groans escaped their mouths the moment both of their already half-hard dicks brushed against each other, making them break the kiss, their foreheads pressed against one another as they breathed heavily into each other's mouths.

Without halting his movements, Nace leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Did you just want to distract me so you could get another glass or are you just a horny little slut, baby?”, catching the lobe between his teeth to emphasize his words before starting a trail of open-mouthed kisses and little nibbles along his jaw and neck.

The sound the younger man let out and the way Jan's hips jerked forward of their own accord, beginning to grind down more desperately, told Nace everything he needed to know.

It was still fun to tease him, though.

“I need words, honey. Or do you want me to stop?” he said teasingly. As if you'd be able to stop now that you finally have what you've been dreaming about for so long, the rational part of his brain told him.

“Please don’t stop.” Jan whined. “F-fuck, God knows how long I've been waiting for this.”

That sound, that plea, the meaning those words entailed all sent an electric jolt straight to Nace's cock. He sounded so beautifully desperate and– God. Jan Peteh was going to be the death of him.

“Oh yeah? Do I make you hard, baby?” he punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust of his hips.

“So damn much, you have no idea. Fuck, have you seen yourself?”

Jan buried his face in Nace's neck, exploring his skin with his lips and teeth, careful not to leave marks in a place that would be visible during the interview and paying special attention to discover the bassist's most sensitive spots. Nace tilted his head to the side to grant him more access.

Neither of them could stop the soft little noises escaping their mouths, getting increasingly louder as Nace's hands started to roam all over the younger's back. They came to a stop at his ass, cupping Jan's cheeks over his boxers and pulling him even closer.

The increased pressure on his crotch caused the guitarist to pull away from Nace's neck, throwing his head back and exposing his throat as a sinful moan escaped his lips. It was probably the most erotic thing Nace had ever seen in his entire life.

However, as heavenly as the dry humping felt, Nace wanted – needed – more. He needed to feel skin on skin with the man that had been occupying his every thought ever since he officially joined the band.

He slowly licked a strip up his deliciously exposed throat, a smug smile spreading across his face at the shudder that ran through Jan's body.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom, kitten?” he asked, his deep voice accompanied with a little squeeze on his ass making Jan blush furiously.

Instead of answering, Jan smashed their lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss.

Nace took that as a yes, placing his hands under Jan's thighs and lifting them both off the couch to start the short walk to his room, grinning into the kiss when he felt Jan's dick twitch at the casual demonstration of strength as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

As he closed the bedroom door and threw a very flushed and now fully hard Jan unceremoniously on his bed, Nace made a mental note to treat him to all the red wine he wished for the days to come.

masterlist | ao3

#i'm actually proud of this one hehe hope you like it 🤭#also this is the 20th prompt like WHAT :O #joker out #jan peteh #nace jordan #jance #ask #mine #maca writes #kiss prompts #i just think jan should be called kitten in fics more often and i couldn't help myself

52 notes · View notes

shoshiwrites · 2 days

Note

Hi! I’m the anon that requested the handholding prompt, and I just wanted to say thank you. It was everything I could have hoped for and more!! It made me smile!!

If you are still taking requests, I would request Jo/Egan with the prompt touching foreheads or bandaging/stitching an injury. As you can see, I couldn’t decide between one prompt, once again. I look forward to whatever you write and of course, never feel pressured to write anything. I hope you are doing well 🫶🏼

Hello anon! Thank you so much for your lovely message. I'm so glad you liked that prompt, and I appreciate your understanding very much. I've kept "bandaging/stitching an injury" on my list, and filled this one for "touching foreheads." This is my first try at Bucky POV, and we kind of ended up on the depression-nap side of things (see my terrible header below). Thank you to @mercurygray for helping me work the end. Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC.

Six months.

And he’s felt every minute of every one, or at least it seems that way on days like this. Gray as all hell, like a storm gathering over the lake. Every minute if you didn’t count the gaps, the headaches, the days he sleeps away, the things he couldn’t remember those first few weeks. His jaw still wakes him in the night, dull if he’s lucky, a screaming pain if he’s not. He can never forget the things he’d actually want to forget, can he? Now that would be too easy.

Never coughed up an explanation for Buck either, even when Buck looked at him sideways about something or the other. Even if he wanted to, his throat goes dry at the thought, like the dust and dirt along the floorboards.

Holding onto it gives him something to hold onto, at least. The anger.

Six months of this damn nightmare, the bloodshot bone-chilled day and night. Different nightmare than the sky. He has those too. This is the kind of dream where you’re stuck in it, you can’t move, there’s footsteps outside the door. He’d had those as a kid. Terrified him.

It’s sure not the the kind they nail up pictures for, paper edges catching on the unfinished timber, hoping to summon some kind of vision. He’s so tired he’s practically drooling into the pillow, letting his eyes wander far enough along the wall that it hurts, over Rita and Ginger and Ava’s shining faces.

There are pictures kept in books too, pouches and the occasional wallet, those all but sewn into jacket pockets. Girls back home.

Not even a letter. Not one goddamn letter, he thinks, the sigh of it harder than seems fair to his mother or his sisters, trying to get around the mail delays and sending cards for every holiday they could think of. What the hell even was Arbor Day, anyway?

(“Trees,” Brady had said, not looking up from the keys of his saxophone.

“...right.”)

He thinks about Texas, and Florida, and Idaho, and Nebraska. Girls and dresses and perfume, manicured hands, no dirt around them. Marge’s friend, he can’t remember her name, pretty, dark hair, disinterested in a kiss but amenable to dancing. They’d all wanted to forget, right? Not when you’re flying out the next day.

He thinks of Lil, the cupid’s bow of her lip and the goosebumps under her sweater. She’d wanted to forget too. A brother somewhere in…he can’t remember now. Burma? Her grandfather hadn’t had too many nice words for him, John. Not that he could blame the man.

He thinks of Jo. Crouched over that little green typewriter the way Brady fiddles with his sax, the sound of the bell, the sound of the keys. Like Buck over the radio. The way she looked up at him, like she’d just realized something important. The way she smelled when she let him get close enough, like flowers after a spring rain.

The air’s sour in here, and cold. Showering helps, besides freezing your damn balls off.

He lets himself think it, about his head in her lap in the grass, or on a sofa, or anywhere, really, where she’s leaning down and she’s touching him, the little calluses on her hands, and her forehead close to his.

It hurts too much, and maybe he can admit it, here in this damn coffin of a bunk, mattress about as comfortable as one, that maybe she’d wanted to forget too.

You don’t kiss like that, he thinks, with acid in his throat, when you care what comes next.

She writes like she cares, though. She writes like she believes in all of them, like it’s real and not just what her paper wants or somebody wants to hear.

Maybe he can admit that now, if he doesn’t think about the note she’d left.

He’d rather think about anything else, hell, he’d rather walk outside with no shoes on, listen to the Yankees lose by a single run.

He’d rather wish this damn pillow was a different kind, her thigh or her body or her forehead, even, pressed against his. Not that he’d admit it out loud.

And her mouth right there, he thinks, like he can just make that half-second trip to kiss her, and kiss her again.

#masters of the air oc #mota oc #bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #shoshi writes #jo's tag #motaverse #anonymous #i am...still figuring this out

23 notes · View notes

silverbladexyz · 10 hours

Text

Tears to Shed

It's a coincidence how this is posted on Chuuya's birthday. I hope you guys enjoy! This is a Corpse Bride!AU, and I highly recommend that you watch this to get the gist of what is happening.

TW: Mentions of death, implied cheating (?), female reader. It all makes sense once you read the fic and watch the video. Massive thanks to @justcallmesakira, @saelique and @my-amaz-fanfics for proofreading this :)

“Oh my! I’ve spent so long in the dark… I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

The cool night air went unnoticed as you stood on the snow. A small perk of being dead was that the cold wasn’t an annoyance anymore.

A breeze blew through the trees, sending a ghastly shiver up their wooden trunks. Their ancient roots dug into the ground that was blanketed with a soft layer of snow. Gnarled branches twisted into the sky, much like the claws of a cat. The entire forest seemed eerie- but to you, it was like home.

Your bony hand tightly grasped around a warm palm. The exact same hand that slid the wedding ring onto your finger with so much love and passion that you immediately burst forth from the grave with a ‘yes’. There were a few murmurs of disapproval in the Underworld, but nobody could deny the fact that you two truly loved each other. Afterall, why would your husband choose to marry you if he disliked you in the first place?

A butterfly fluttered past, catching your attention. You admired the beautiful, complex patterns that swirled on it’s wings, prompting an involuntary chuckle from you. The land of the living sure was a breath of fresh air sometimes. Thanks to the gracious Elder of the underworld, you were able to go back up and meet your lover’s parents.

You let go of your husband’s hand, and started to do an elegant dance on the snow. Despite being dead, the dancing lessons you took were not for nothing. Why, you could probably even surpass the best dancer of the 1800s! Excitement filled you as you imagined yourself waltzing with your lover, showing him everything that you were capable of. Many men loved a talented woman, and you weren’t about to let yours down.

Perhaps you were a bit too immersed in your daydream, because your foot got caught under a tree branch and snapped your entire lower leg off.

“Ah!”

You let out a small yelp, tumbling onto the soft, thick snow. Horrified, you looked up towards your husband still standing on the snow- you couldn’t let him freak out over a small accident!

But he didn’t seem to realise what had happened; instead, his back was faced towards you.

Embarrassed, you quickly reconnected your leg, and resumed your graceful twirl around him. The wedding dress that you always donned flowed behind you, adding extra elegance to your dance. You felt his eyes on you- he was definitely intrigued by your charm.

The next moment, warmth landed on your shoulders, and your husband gently sat you down on a fallen log in the snow.

If you had a heart, it definitely would’ve skipped a beat. His gorgeous blue eyes and stunning ginger hair must have been a gift from the gods themselves. Chuuya Nakahara sure was a man admired by many, and he chose you. Life finally seemed to favour you this time.

“... I think I should prepare my parents for the big news of our marriage. I’ll go ahead, and you can wait here.”

His azure eyes stared into yours, patiently waiting for your response. His hands had lifted off from your shoulders, but you didn’t pay it any mind. Just simply being with your spouse was enough for you.

“Perfect! I’ll stay right here.” You smiled at Chuuya with the innocence of a child. He looked taken aback for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Seizing this opportunity, the male quickly stalked off through the forest, running towards the only person that he knew would help him. You giggled a little at his rush; you weren’t going anywhere, afterall. The thought that the male wanted to introduce you to his parents as quickly as possible brought a smile to your face.

The minutes slowly dragged by. What once was gleeful anticipation soon turned into bored waiting, with nothing changing in your surroundings. With your cheek propped in your hand, you let out a small sigh, wondering what on earth was taking Chuuya so long.

“This is the voice of your conscience. Listen to what I say. I have a bad feeling about that boy.”

Your pupils widened a little at the sudden voice, but you quickly rolled your eyes once you realised who it was. Lifting your hand towards your head, you knocked a fist against it several times. It didn’t take long for the culprit to tumble out.

“You know he is a little- AGH!”

The culprit being a small green string-like thing that shot out of your ear and into the snow.

It was your close friend, Maggot, who lived inside your head ever since you died. And quite literally, too. You couldn’t recall a day in the Land of the Dead without him interjecting with sarcastic remarks that only you could hear.

“Go chew someone else’s ear for a while. Chuuya’s got to see his parents, just like he said.”

You were a tad bit irritated at what Maggot implied. How could he think that your dear husband was a liar? Chuuya was anything but that. Your friend, however, clearly thought otherwise.

“If I hadn’t just been sitting in it, I’d think that you’ve lost your mind-”

“I’m sure that Chuuya has a pretty good reason… for taking so long.”

You sighed a little, and that didn’t go unnoticed by Maggot. You’d never admit it, but you were starting to wonder if the worm was right in some regard. What if Chuuya got attacked or ran into trouble?

You brushed that thought off. Your husband was obviously stronger than most men around; why, he probably could defeat an opponent twice his size without breaking a sweat. But that still didn’t stop the slight bit of panic that settled within you.

“Well, why don’t you go ask him?”

Maggot’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you gazed back at him indignantly.

“Alright, I will.”

If he was so desperately insisting that Chuuya was a liar, then you’d have to prove him wrong.

Oh, how naive you were to not believe a word of what he said.

~~~

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting it’s pleasant heat into the room. Coldness could not come near it, for the flame merely devoured the frost before continuing to burn as brightly as before.

Not a word was said between the individuals that sat in front of the fireplace. Countless thoughts were running in Chuuya’s mind, mashing together in one confused heap. It didn’t help that butterflies fluttered in his stomach at what he was planning to say next.

“Yasuko… I must confess that I was terrified of marriage this morning.”

The female blinked. Sensing her confusion, the male continued speaking.

“But upon meeting you… I felt that I should be with you always. And that our wedding couldn’t come sooner enough.”

It was the truth, afterall. Even when they had just met each other, the spark of attraction between them could not be denied. She was surely the yin to his yang, the key to his heart, and his complete other half that he had been searching for his whole life.

“Chuuya… I feel the same.”

The girl whom he was properly betrothed to smiled at him. A real smile, one that was full of life and not death. Despite being born to snobby aristocratic parents, she was a true diamond amongst the rubble. Kind, polite, and courteous- whoever married her would strike gold.

“Yasuko…” He murmured, his gaze not leaving hers.

Slowly, she started to lean in, closing her eyes.

Chuuya’s heartbeat quickened as he unconsciously drew her in. They were so close… their breath upon each other’s lips. Just a second away from getting lost in the bliss of love and forgetting everything that stood in their path.

Suddenly, Chuuya stiffened, turning his face towards the window.

Yasuko’s lips met his jaw instead, and her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Opening her eyes, she noticed that her lover’s gaze was focused on something behind her. But before she could turn her head around, Chuuya’s warm hands cradled her face.

Cerulean blue eyes met lovely brown ones, each having their own questions to ask.

“Yasuko, you must understand that this is all rather unexpected-”

He was cut off by the booming sound of lightning. Both individuals turned toward the window, which was forced open by none other than… you. Stepping into the room, you lifted the wedding veil from your face, hope evident in your demeanour.

“Darling, I just wanted to meet-”

Two pairs of eyes stared back at you in horror. Like you were a monster- an unwanted being who was the object of disgust.

You noticed the girl standing behind Chuuya, and your eyes widened to the same size as hers. No doubt shocked at how accurate Maggot was about the male.

“... Darling, who’s this?”

Barely containing your anger, you sauntered over to your husband, clinging onto his arm. If you had blood, it would definitely be boiling by now- but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself in front of Chuuya today. No, you absolutely had to stay calm and show the woman who she was messing with!

“Who is she?!”

Looks like she didn’t have an inkling about you either. Well, no matter. Letting go of Chuuya’s elbow, you presented your bony arm in front of you with a proud smirk.

“I’m his wife.”

Your gold ring shone brightly on your fourth finger, a signet of the vow that bound you with Chuuya forever.

The girl looked towards him in disbelief.

“Chuuya?-”

“Yasuko, hold on, you don’t understand. As you can see, she’s dead. It was clearly a misunderstanding-”

A misunderstanding?

He was cut off as you yanked him towards you, eyes narrowing in ire at this ‘Yasuko’ girl. Your husband wasn’t off the hook, but for now, you couldn’t risk Yasuko stealing your love away from you. Heartbreak was not an option this time.

A shadow loomed over your face, lightning striking the sky as if in response to your fury.

You uttered the word that could bring this madness to an end.

“Hopscotch.”

A murder of crows immediately surrounded the two of you, magic already working upon the utterance of the order. Amidst the chaos, you didn’t fail to notice how Chuuya called out to Yasuko, his arm outstretched towards her.

Your feet touched the solid ground of the Elder’s office, the last of the crows flying away after their duty was finished.

With all your might, you pushed Chuuya away from you, hands curling into fists at your sides.

“You lied to me! Just to get back to that other woman!”

The male merely lifted his hands up, gesturing towards you.

“... Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman.”

“!”

It was as if a sudden jolt of electricity had zapped you, only leaving behind your stunned self. Eyes widened in stupefaction stared at the one you once thought loved you.

In your incredulity, you desperately attempted to convince him otherwise.

“No! You’re married to me; she’s the other woman!”

Clear, salty liquid brimmed in your eyes, blurring your vision to be a mixture of jarring colours. You turned away from him, unable to hold it in any longer.

“A-and I thought… I thought that this was all going so well!”

Your sobs filled the air- great convulsing gasps that masked the sound of teardrops hitting the ground. Nobody said or did anything, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. The last thing that you wanted was pity from the one who betrayed your trust.

“Look, I’m sorry, but this just can’t work.” Chuuya approached you cautiously, not wanting to provoke you any further.

“Why not?” You spun around to face him, stifling your tears.

“Under different circumstances, then probably it can work out. But we’re just too different. I mean, you’re dead.”

“... You should’ve thought about that before you asked me to marry you!”

Shaking his head, Chuuya throwed his hands up with exasperation.

“Why can’t you understand that it was a mistake? I would never marry you.”

Silence filled the air. Time seemed to stand still, as if preparing the moment for a camera to photograph. And how you wished that everything could just freeze in place- to suspend those feelings that tore you inside out.

Chuuya himself seemed dumbfounded at what he just said. He knew that he should apologise, offer you a better explanation than that; but he found that he couldn’t form any words. No amount of lies could ever cover up the truth once it was exposed.

He readied himself for your shouting, your tears, your unbridled anger at the nerve of him daring to go back to the one he truly loved. And he deserved it, because nothing could excuse the fact that he hurt you. Even when it was all just one big misunderstanding.

But instead of reacting in the way he expected you to, you merely sighed in defeat and walked off. Not noticing the way Chuuya gazed at your disappearing self.

It didn’t take long for you to find a place to be alone. The dead may be many, but the underworld was vast. You could always sit down on an empty coffin with nobody in a ten metre radius from you. Perfect for a broken-hearted lonely soul.

Bringing the bouquet of flowers beside you up to your face, you gazed at the blossoms with disdain. Their beautiful patterns only seemed to mock your ugly fate, cursed with never being loved as someone’s bride. Life, which was mostly cruel, decided to trample you under its feet. Always waiting for the perfect opportunity to crush your dreams and hopes in a single second.

With a scoff, you lifted your other hand, and started to pluck away at the florets one by one. The petals fell freely through your fingers, landing onto the ground without a care in the world. Becoming nothing but a nuisance in someone else’s path.

“Roses, for eternal love. Lilies, for sweetness. Baby’s breath…” You inhaled shakily, fighting back the lump in your throat.

With a sigh, you tossed the bouquet away, head lowered down in melancholy.

“Maybe Chuuya’s right. Maybe we are too different.” You muttered sorrowfully, looking at your palms. One of old flesh, and one of bone.

“Maybe he should have his head examined. I could do it.”

Maggot crawled onto your shoulder, looking earnestly into your eyes. You didn’t even have the heart to roll your eyes at his statement.

“Oh, but he does belong with her. That little miss living, with her beautiful cheeks… and her beating heart.” Propping your head in your hands, you gave a bitter chuckle.

Hope. Something that was desired by all- both alive and dead.

Most people hoped for a happy and stable life. Some aspired to be wealthy and successful. Others wished to keep what they had as of present.

You had simply hoped for a husband who truly loved you.

That dream made you scoff now. Every last bit of hope you harboured had vanished alongside your ‘husband’s’ love and concern. He was no better than your previous lover, who had promised you a lifetime of joy and fondness if you’d run away with him.

How foolish and naive you were to believe that he was genuine. It was only after he had left you for dead did you realise that you’d played right into his trap. A bride whose dreams were stolen from her, and who never got the chance for proper justice to be delivered.

You’d have thought that Chuuya would be different- that he was finally the one to fulfil your hopes of being married. Being loved and cherished by him for eternity as you shared wonderful experiences together as husband and wife. Modelled as the perfect couple whom the souls in the Realm of the Dead smiled at, commenting on how cute the two of you were. Were things as common as those too much to ask for?

You wanted to be the girl that Chuuya looked at with genuine love in his eyes. Just like that ‘Yasuko’ girl you met earlier- whose stupidly beautiful eyes and sickly sweet face had captivated your lover in the first place. Just what did she have that you didn’t have double? Good looks? A lovely personality? Simply being alive? She probably couldn’t dance half as well as you did.

Yasuko wasn’t even wearing his ring. The very same ring that you now held in your palm, begging to be placed back on the hand of its rightful owner. Did it matter that you were the one who Chuuya said his vows to? Not anymore, because he clearly adored his other woman more than you.

You slowly laid down in the coffin, your vision going blurry once again. Although you didn’t have a physical heart, you could certainly feel it breaking. Even when you were dead, it seemed that you still had some tears to shed.

Maggot watched you worriedly, but he didn’t know how exactly to comfort you or cheer you up. Nothing he said or did could deny the obvious truth. The truth that sat on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

You loved Chuuya, but he wasn’t yours. Because…

“I’m always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

Would really appreciate feedback on this ❤️ Not too proud on how I wrote this tbh

@circinuus @little-miss-chaoss @sariel626 @rusmii @atlasnessie @luvfy0dor-main (sorry if I forgot to tag you ;w;)

#silverbladexyz #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bsd x female reader #bsd x you #unrequited love spinoff

21 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 16 hours

Note

Are you still taking prompts for the sleepy time ask game? Can you do 17 & 40 for Curtis & Honey??

Thank you so much for sending this ask, I am so sorry its late babes. I hope you like this little drabble.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

You were close to finishing, your pen tapping against your cheek as you glanced at the old clock ticking away in Curtis's kitchen. Twelve A.M.

Curtis had gone to bed a couple hours ago, saying that he was absolutely beat and needed to sleep before his shift tomorrow. With an affectionate kiss to your jawline while you muttered that you would be up soon.

Soon never came and your essays were still piled up, needing to graded. Your kids worked so hard on them and you had assured them that they would be ready by the end of the week. End of the week was almost here and you weren't even half way through them.

Your head dropped to the table, letting your eyes close. "Just five minutes." You mutter to yourself.

"Honey?"Curtis's deep voice cut into your five minutes, making you blink with a sleepy groan. "Baby, you're done for tonight. Come on up." His hand swept over your shoulder while rubbing against the back of your neck.

"Can't." You say around a yawn while pushing back up to a sit, gasping to yourself when you saw that you drooled on the table, very quickly wiping at your mouth.

"Can't? Honey it's two in the morning and you gotta be out of here by seven." His hand felt good massaging the back of your neck that you relaxed into it with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Got these. too much, end of the week." Sentences were too hard to form right now. Curtis chuckled above you, his hand moving to cup your chin and tilt you to look up at him.

“You’re so cute when you’re tired and speaking in half-sentences Honey." You gave a little dreamy smile up at him, your eyes fluttering closed. He felt good, like you would sink into him.

"Cute enough to continue what I gotta do?"

"No." He said a bit sternly and that made you give a bit of a pout.

"But I-"

“I’m gonna carry you to bed if you keep arguing with me about not needing sleep.” Curtis rumbled out.

"You wouldn't." As soon as the words spilled out, his blue eyes flashed at the challenge and he moved like he was gonna, making you squeal out quickly. "Im coming! Right now." You went to gather everything and he caught your hands, tugging you out of the chair and into his arms.

Yeah, that felt good. You let yourself sink in against his chest with a hum of relent. "That can wait Honey, come on."

You fell asleep as soon as Curtis had you spooned in bed. The next morning, your alarm jarred you awake, seeing that Curtis had already left.

Making your way downstairs for coffee, bypassing the kitchen table, your scattered mess was now all neatly organized, everything in place and your huge pile, half the size as Curtis had worked on grading a few for you.

A note was left on top of the nearly finished pile-

Honey, I will help you finish these tonight. Between the two of us, we can have them ready for you Friday. But Friday night, you're mine Pretty Girl. Love you ~ Curtis

#amber answers #life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #sleepy time prompts #ask games #sorry this is so late #lamber writes #sweater writes

19 notes · View notes

lesbianlotties · 2 years

Note

ronance prompt: "friends kiss each other all the time, right?"

oh look it's like i had a vision of season 5!

The first kiss was a mistake, and Robin’s fault, not that she regretted it. One warm afternoon, after Nancy gave her a ride home, Robin leaned across the car toward her and she swears she aimed for Nancy’s cheek, but Nancy turned her head at the worst - best - possible moment, and just like that, Robin and Nancy kissed for the first time. As much as Robin tried to deny it during her worst moments of self-doubt, the fact that the accidental kiss had lasted a second too long without either of them pulling back remained. After the event, Robin had apologized profusely in a most likely unintelligible rant and stumbled out of the car, literally stumbled, as in, she totally ended up on the pavement. But she eventually made it inside her house, where she was free to overthink till she felt on the brink of death and then Nancy called her that night to talk as they usually did, no mention of the kiss.

The second time was inevitable. There were many good things about being friends with someone equally as smart but in a totally different direction. They challenged each other, encouraged one another to think outside the box, to turn the box upside down with questions, or to absolutely destroy the box in question until it could be assembled back again in a way that solved the mystery at hand. This, however, didn’t come without a price. As it had been obvious since their first time working together at the library, their methods often clashed. Instead of learning how to avoid these arguments as time went by, the arguing only escalated more easily, since they were comfortable with each other, knowledgeable about exactly which buttons to push without pushing too hard, and able to forgive and forget each other in the blink of an eye. Except for the time when they were arguing about something Robin can’t bring herself to remember anymore, and in the heat of the moment they ended up standing so close together that the only viable resolution to the argument had been for Robin to lean down and Nancy to lean up and kiss each other. Brief. Still could be called accidental. Still mind-blowing.

The third kiss? Well, Robin couldn’t stop rambling about one subject or another, and apparently, Nancy couldn’t figure out any other way to get her to shut up. The fourth kiss? After some grueling weeks of Nancy teaching Robin how to drive, when Robin finally got her license she simply could not not kiss Nancy as a thank you, right? Things changed after the fifth kiss though. The two girls were hanging out in Nancy’s bedroom, talking about nothing and everything, teasing each other about their past relationships, carefully not outright mentioning the fact that they were both single, and Robin simply had to know if she was a better kisser than Steve. No big deal, just a matter of pride. The problem, Nancy pointed out, was that she’d kissed Steve much more than a few pecks on the lips. Alas, Robin and Nancy entered the making out with each other territory. Probably helped by the fact that Nancy confirmed that yes, Robin was the better kisser.

After a few weeks of making out with Nancy as often as humanly possible, Robin finally mustered up the courage to ask Steve, “Hey, friends kiss each other all the time, right?”

Steve snorted when he heard her question. “Have we ever kissed?” he asked right back at her.

“Oh shit,” Robin gasped, and started picking up her things, making mostly a mess. “I gotta go. I have to talk to Nancy.”

“Wait,” Steve frowned, following Robin’s hasty movement with his eyes, “Does that mean- Wait. Nancy?! Robin are you-”

“Yeah, I think we’re dating now? I might love her? I don’t know but I’m going to find out right the fuck now. Okay, bye Steve!”

#thanks for sending a prompt! i hope you liked it!#stranger things #ronance #robin x nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #st #stranger things fanfiction #ronance fanfiction #nancy x robin #st4 #stranger things 4 #robin #nancy #prompts #answered #anon #ronance prompts #my fic

481 notes · View notes

erwinsvow · 27 days

Note

i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?

the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.

top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.

you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.

topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.

you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.

"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"

"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.

"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.

"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.

"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.

in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.

"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.

"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."

"m'not apologizin', i-"

"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"

"once or twice?"

"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"

"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.

"what? it was new years."

"where the hell was i?"

"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.

#this was... incredibly incredibly fun to write.#you are an ANGEL For sending this prompt i could picture it so vividluy #i hope you love <333333 thank you so so much for engaging and liking it!#📮 asks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #kook trio reader

600 notes · View notes

lazybakerart · 1 year

Note

a cute harringrove thing for you: billy being in the middle of trying to do something but he keeps shaking away bits of hair that get into his eyes and steve just comes up behind him, puts his hair into a bun, then casually goes back to where he was while billy's stunned and blushing before he returns to his task with a big grin on his face

The AC's out.

Billy's cracked the unit open with a flathead screwdriver he found under the sink and a few choice words. July hit hard. Sweat drips down his nose as he tries to fix and not kick a heavy metal box down three stories.

In the small kitchen just a few feet behind his hunched back, Steve's popping more ice out and yelling at the radio - a Dodgers game has gone to shit.

Billy swipes his sweat-stuck curls back just to have all of them tumble right back in the way again.

Summers always leave Billy regretting growing out his hair.

He hadn't meant to. A couple months without a haircut grew into a couple years where a couple of half-assed snicks with the scissors he uses for zip ties and toe nails were all he made do with. Every year he forgets how much of it there is when summer arrives to remind him.

Snapping back up, screwdriver in a vice-grip, Billy yanks his hair back with both hands and yells FUCK YOU at the stained popcorn ceiling and his own mane fried with West Hollywood humidity.

"What's wrong now? What happened?" Steve has the honest nerve to say after over an hour of this.

"I'm shaving my head."

A deep sigh and Steve's opening some cabinet that creaks and needs to be oiled - the deal when they first moved in was Billy dealt with the electric shit and Steve got everything that wouldn't have him sizzling when he got distracted.

Plumbing means rock, paper, scissors comes out and goddamnit if Billy doesn't lose every single round.

He and the plunger have built a relationship.

Billy blames dying and coming back with fried nerves and a second-rate case of stigmata making his every joint he's got stiff, his hands getting the worst of it. He'd be a lousy second coming anyways.

"That time of year again, huh?" Steve says.

He stands behind Billy, swatting away his frustrated steel-grip to comb through Billy's curls, pulling them back and away.

"There are these things - they're called hair-ties," Steve gently pulls Billy's hair through elastic, "And I know you like using rubber bands because you're a freak," Slowly he winds Billy's overgrown hair around, "But these are, like, at least twice as good. Now, we just twist," He twists, "And twist some more and - boom! Done. I'm awesome."

Steve spins Billy around by the shoulders twice, his sweaty feet squeaking on the scratched up oak floors. He holds Billy in place, sweaty hands on Billy's sweaty nape, sweaty thumbs running circles, and it doesn't seem to matter much to him that the AC is broken and they're reaching the peak 90s on the thermostat.

Steve's looking at him.

All tender.

All sweet.

A little tipsy from better beer than they chugged in high school. It's been seven years since they hit the highway and left Indiana for good. Three more months and five more days and they'll hit eight.

"Oh no." Steve croons at him. Smile turning cotton soft. Those sweaty hands move to cup Billy's face and those running thumbs rub just under Billy's eyes. "Why are we crying?"

"It's hot." Billy says.

Pinching his ears around his piercings, Steve tells him, "You're hot."

Billy sniffles. Snot drips, meets his upper lip and Steve wipes it off - eight years worth of tears and snot and blood and spunk and so much sweat.

And so much fucking good shit.

From an open window in their cramped apartment, a slice of warmed July breeze catches on the back of Billy's newly bared neck. He tosses the screwdriver somewhere.

"And," Steve pecks him on the lips, bites at his nose to make sure Billy gets heat-stroke, "You've got a great ass."

The AC can wait a little longer.

#replies #my stories #harringrove #billy hargrove #thank you so much anon for sending me this T___T #i really needed some positivity #and i miss writing prompts!!#i hope you like this #thank you again <3!!

462 notes · View notes

lemony-snickers · 1 year

Note

Kakashixgn!reader and 37 for the kissing prompt? (I can't decide if it's better if he's the one being made jealous or if kissing him to make someone else jealous is better, so I'll leave that to your discretion) love your work and I hope the Friday boredom isn't too dreary 💚

Kakashi drummed his fingers on the table as he watched you order. Across the bar, your teeth flashed as you offered the bartender a bright smile as they leaned toward you conspiratorily.

He knew it shouldn't bother him half as much as it did, but there was little he could do about his reaction.

The feeling of mine that flashed through his mind was primal, animalistic, and he saw no use in fighting it.

You returned to the table a few minutes later, two drinks and a bowl of edamame in your hands.

"Sorry that took so long," you said as you slid back into your seat. "Bartender says they haven't been this busy in a while, if we want anything else, I can just order from the bar instead of waiting for a server."

"Mm," Kakashi said, reaching for his drink and pulling it closer, the fingers of his other hand still drumming on the table.

You flicked your eyes up to meet his. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, though even he knew it came out a little too petulantly. "I'm just hungry."

You sat back in your seat, smiling, now. "Why didn't you say so, I could have ordered you something."

He shrugged. "It's fine."

He had to stop drumming his fingers. Kakashi only managed to force himself to do so when he finally lifted them to pull his mask down, turning his face away from the busy interior of the room to take a sip from his drink.

He could feel someone's stare scraping over his nape like a razor, and his grip on his glass tightened.

Kakashi did his best to ignore the attention as he pulled his mask back over his nose and listened to you tell a terribly animated story about your day. He did love watching you get excited about something like this, the way your eyes glistened, your hands moved too quickly as you gestured your way through the tale.

It was almost enough for him to ignore the way the bartender was currently burning a hole through the side of his head from the force of their glare.

He grit his teeth and pretended it was a smile.

When you finished your story, Kakashi asked if you wanted anything to eat. Turned out you were just as hungry as he was, and despite his offer to put the order through instead, you leapt--perhaps, some less evolved remnant of his brain thought, a little too eagerly--out of your seat. "Don't worry," you said, patting his shoulder on your way toward the bar, "I already have a tab open."

Kakashi leaned back against his seat, closing his eye and taking a long breath before he peeled it back open and turned to find you and the bartender chatting amicably again.

He knew your vibrant energy attracted lots of people; it always had. It was part of what had attracted him to you, after all. And normally, Kakashi did not have the energy to indulge in feelings of jealousy or being threatened.

But for some reason, the way the bartender leaned into your space, so close Kakashi knew you must be able to taste the same air, he could not quell the possessive irritation curdling like sour milk in his stomach.

When you finally pulled away from your conversation with a friendly wave, the bartender slid their gaze from you to Kakashi.

The smirk they wore was enough for Kakashi to know exactly what he had to do.

As you made your way back to the table, Kakashi stood, blocking your path to your seat--and the path of anyone trying to get to one of the booths lining the front of the restaurant, but he didn't really care about decorum or politeness at the moment.

"Everything okay?" you asked, looking at him with a gentle, understanding smile. "We can gp if it's too crowded."

Leave it to you to think this was about Kakashi's perpetual discomfort in social situations. You were always so kind to everyone around you, it was no wonder the bartender had gotten the wrong idea.

No matter. Kakashi would be sure to set the record straight right now.

In one swift motion, Kakashi pulled his mask down and cupped your cheek with his other hand. You barely got the words, "What are--" before his lips slotted against yours hungrily.

Possessively. Mine, his brain reminded him.

He felt your hesitation melt away in half a moment as you relaxed against him, your lips pulling into a soft smile as you kissed him back, one hand grasping his shirt loosely.

Kakashi had never been a fan of public displays of affection, but the moment called for it and so even when his instincts told him that's enough, knock it off, he plunged forward--deepening the kiss with a push of his tongue that pulled a soft sound of pleasure from the back of your thraot, making his chest flutter.

By the time he pulled away, your lips were kiss-bruised, your breathing shallow. His, too.

He slipped his mask back in place as if nothing had happened. While you gathered yourself, Kakashi shot a look at the bartender, who was pretending very hard not to stare, wiping over the same filthy patch of the wooden bar with a dingy rag, stealing furtive glances at the two of you.

Kakashi smirked. Perfect. He planted one last cloth-covered kiss on your mouth for good measure.

"Do you want to take our order to go?" he asked, "I think I'm ready to head home."

You nodded, still a little obviously dumbstruck by his out of character behaviour. "Y-yeah," you said, "let me just close my tab."

He held up a palm to stop you. "Don't worry," he said, gesturing for you to sit back down, "I'll handle it. Be right back."

The frazzled demeanor of the bartender was nearly as satisfying as the way the taste of your lips lingered on Kakashi's. He licked them beneath his mask, savoring it.

More kisses certainly awaited once he got you home. He could already sense Genma smirking from halfway across the restaurant, ready to tease Kakashi over his extremely public makeout session the enxt time they interacted.

"Here you go," the bartender grumbled, handing Kakashi his takeout order. "Have a good night."

"Oh," he said, smiling knowingly, "I'm certain I will."

Whatever teasing he might have to endure in the future, it would be worth it. You always were.

#kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #gn!reader #lovely anon #lemony scribbles #friday flash fic fest #thank you for sending this one in! i hope you like my take on the prompt okay. <3

216 notes · View notes

mirkwoodmunson · 1 year

Note

Would you pretty please turn this picture into an Eddie munson fanfiction? I've been searching the Internet and have yet to find anything like this. If you not comfortable, I totally understand!!

me: writing break!

mailbox: 🫶

me: …..umm ANYWAY *frantic typing*

I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA

tw: cursing, angst, panic/anxiety attack, dissociation, night terrors, depressed/anxious reader, post-v2 (fixit)

it takes a long time for your nights to go back to a state of semi-normalcy. a long time of regaining the ability to lay in bed comfortable and calm and eager for sleep, a long time of healing and bandages and pained tears, a long time of struggling for the smallest crumbs of comfort. but you had each other, and that made it easier of course — but it was still an uphill battle for those first few months. there was a lot of heartache, a lot of tears and strain, but far be it from eddie and you to let the darkness come out on top. you were both fighters, and when the battle got too rough for one of you, the other always managed to gather enough strength to keep the both of you pushing, moving forward. persevering.

when the darkness got the better of you, eddie was there to blind it with his brilliance.

nights… you’d come to dread them. during the day the sun could blot out your thoughts, soothe worries with its warmth, and you had things to do and places to go and people to see; the day didn’t give you the time to worry. but when night fell, when it was just you and eddie and the quiet — not that you didn’t enjoy those things, but with the night and the quiet, and the memories you and eddie now shared… nights were still sometimes difficult.

the thing is, eddie doesn’t remember that night. he doesn’t remember anything after the bats.

but you do.

you remember, and you’ve had to watch it again, and again — at first it was every time you tried to sleep, then just when you slept at night, but always sleeping during the day became a problem. then after a while, after nights started to feel somewhat tolerable, it was every other night. every few nights. you were down to once every few weeks now, but even then, the idea of just trying to get some rest had become so stressful it was just a frustrating cycle of exhaustion at this point.

and how could you bother eddie with this? he knew, but you didn’t complain beyond the initial waking up from the dreams. sure he didn’t remember that night, but he still remembered facing the bats. he still had to go through the stint in the hospital, recovery at home. you were both dealing with your individual traumas. he always assured you you were allowed to feel it too, you didn’t need to act tough around him — you’d become so quiet. so tired. he would always tell you the way through was together, that he had your back. but you still felt like it would burden him. far be it from you to be a burden.

really though, there’s only so many times you can say you’re okay when you’re not before it becomes too much to handle alone.

tonight it takes you by surprise. tonight you fall asleep in eddie’s arms, but you wake up and, you’re there. you’re in the wasteland that is the upside down and you’re running but you can’t run fast enough and there’s not enough air in your lungs. the red flashes are too bright, too disorienting, you can just barely make out the swarm.

when they suddenly drop from the air, you see the body they surround and you drop too. it’s too much, too heavy, too real — the little air you have rips from your lungs and you crawl to him, you know you can save him if you just go fast enough but you can’t move any faster, no matter how hard you scream you can’t get to him any quicker, like you’re pulling yourself through drying concrete. you hear dustin crying.

you reach, so hard your muscles pull and you cry, and you grab his vest and drag yourselves together, gripping him tight light you’re about to be pulled away from him again. you try and talk him awake but your lips move slow too, it’s muffled in your ears like you’re underwater, clogged and distant. if you’re loud enough, cry hard enough, scream loud enough, maybe he’ll wake up. your foreheads are pressed together as you beg for him to wake the fuck up —

“please wake up please wake up please wake up,” his eyes snap open and he holds your face, talking to you quickly, quietly, murmuring a pleading song.

you feel like you’re being pulled up through water.

you wheeze deep and suddenly breach the surface, gasping wildly into a dark space, but that voice remains and keeps guiding you from the murky depths; it’s soft, always soft — calling to you with a tender earnestness.

“i’m here. i’m here — you’re safe; you’re awake.”

you start to wail, and eddie leans over to turn on the lamp before pulling you into his lap, into his arms, careful but quick. he tries not to waver, not to show how startled he is — but he can’t help the tremble in the way that he holds you, the break in his voice.

“it’s okay, y/n it’s okay — i promise. you’re not there. you’re home. i’m here.”

“i-i-i — fine — i’m fine — i’m fine,” it almost hurts to speak, takes effort between the deep breaths and hiccups and sobs. eddie leans you away a bit, pushes damp hair from your cheeks and cups them in warm calloused hands that are firm but loving, urging you to look at him.

through the tears you see his eyes are wide but tired, concerned and sad and alarmed, when you try to look away he holds you still, shaking his head firmly.

“no. no sweetheart you’re not okay.”

he looks at you a moment longer before pulling you back into him as you shudder, quaking with the force of it, gripping his shirt tight to ground yourself as you weep into his shoulder.

eddie shushes you softly, holds you so tight his arms tremble and hides his face in your hair.

“i’m here. you’re safe. i’ve got you. i promise.”

“wh-what about you??”

“i’m safe too, baby. we’re safe. we’re home.”

one of his hands slides around one of yours, soothes it open to release his shirt and then guides it down to the bedsheets.

“feel our bed? the sheets?”

he takes your quieting cries as a ‘yes,’ and smiles small, kissing your temple. you’re starting to focus on him, on your surroundings.

“feel my shirt? an’ my arms?”

you nod, running your thumb over the faded black fabric held tight in your fist, full of holes and tears. you’d got it for eddie when he took you to see judas priest, the metal conqueror tour. you guys hadn’t started dating yet. some dude spilt beer on you and shouted at you for the audacity, eddie had punched him in the face, and then you’d started dating.

“hey! there’s a smile!” eddie peers down at you with a smile of his own, and you sniffle but hold it for him through the stubborn tears. “there you go. where’d that come from?”

“you,” you respond simply, tearfully.

eddie laughs softly and pulls you in again, rocking you in his arms, muttering gentle affirmations.

498 notes · View notes

velidewrites · 1 year

Note

A prompt for Elain week (if it inspires you!) : tired/cranky Elain coming home to a surprise prepared by Lucien & baby Elucien.

Also, a duckling offering, keeping in the spirit of Elain week 🦆🌸

Elain was dying.

Her mind felt as though it had been turned into a puddle—a soggy mess deserted by all thoughts but one: sleep.

She should’ve known better than to exhaust herself like that. Still, she’d insisted—had begged Feyre to go one more time until her sister crossed her tattooed arms and firmly told her to go home.

So Elain did. Rhysand, Cauldron bless him, had winnowed her onto the large landing on the upper levels of the Day Court Palace, usually reserved for the High Lord’s Pegasi—though, as a winged beast himself, Elain thought with a small smile, her brother-in-law had fit in just right.

He rolled his eyes playfully, ever the daemati—as if, despite her mental shields sturdy and high up, he could read the thought only by looking at her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her before flying off into the night sky.

She could barely walk as she made her way inside—today’s lesson, it seemed, had managed to take its toll on her physical strength as well. Fortunately, her rooms were located on this level. She wasn’t entirely sure she would’ve survived a walk up the stairs tonight.

A thrum of a mighty, ancient magic welcomed her from a shaded corner of the hall, as it swirled around its owner like bright rays of sunlight.

Elain didn’t even bother to look in his direction—to the wide, knowing grin, no doubt blooming upon his face. She was well aware of how utterly ridiculous she looked without his insight.

“Not a word,” she muttered.

Helion’s low chuckle echoed off the golden pillars, trailing after her until she stood in front of the large, ornate doors of her quarters.

They opened before she even managed to reach for the handle, revealing a very tall and very handsome male waiting on the other side.

Lucien’s lips twitched. “You look like hell.”

Elain shot him a glare, and he laughed. “This isn’t funny,” she warned, but Lucien’s laugh only deepened, a rich, honeyed sound that seemed to wrap itself around her skin.

Cauldron damn him, but she couldn’t help but smile. “Fine. Maybe it is a little funny.”

Lucien’s auburn brows shot up with amusement. “I have never seen your hair look more like a bird’s nest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And we’re back to not funny at all.”

Lucien’s grin turned feline. “So cranky, my mate,” he purred, reaching to brush his fingers over her cheek.

Elain’s heart quickened, but she looked down—down to the pink bundle nestled in his strong arm, to the tiny face buried within, small, rosy lips parted in a gentle dream. “How long has she been asleep?” she asked, her voice a tad quieter now.

“Not long,” Lucien told her. “Come inside. We have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Elain asked, but she stepped into the room anyway.

Lucien jerked his chin to the right. “Bathroom,” he instructed.

So to the bathroom she went.

What she found inside made her sigh with delight.

The grand, marble tub, stationed in the middle of the open space, was filled with bubbles to the brim, the soft scent of warm, sparkly water filling her lungs deliciously. But it was the flowers floating atop that made her eyes burn—the roses, daisies and violets, all a lovely gift meant to raise her spirits and make the experience even more special.

“You deserve a moment to yourself,” her mate’s voice sounded quietly behind her. “You’ve been working so hard, Elain.”

She turned to him with silver lining her eyes. “Thank you.”

Lucien winked. “It was a team effort, you know,” he said, gesturing to the babe still sound asleep in his arms.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Something tightened in her chest at the sight of them. “I missed you both so much.”

His gaze softened. “My offer still stands, if you want it. I can teach you how to winnow without you ever having to leave.”

“I know, I just—” she sighed. “I feel like I hardly ever see them anymore—my sisters. We’re all always so busy—it’s nice to see them, to spend some time together. Even if Feyre’s being a pain in my ass.”

Lucien chuckled. “I can only imagine.”

“I’m getting better, I think,” she told him. “I winnowed into Rhys’s office from the hallway. He didn’t expect it, of course, though I admit, seeing him jump up in surprise was—what?” she asked, brows furrowing at the sight of a soft light, glowing gently from Lucien’s face.

“Nothing,” he said, something gleaming in his russet eye. “I’m so proud of you, Elain.”

Elain smiled. “I’m proud of myself, too,” she admitted. “And of you—for being so brave and watching over our daughter all by yourself today.”

Lucien nodded sagely. “It was quite a task, if I do say so myself.”

“Well,” Elain grinned openly now. “There’s enough space for two in that bathtub.”

Those beautiful, shining eyes slowly slid down her body—then, back to the babe, cradled in his arms.

Lucien said, “I’ll be right back.”

For @elainweekofficial

#unedited we die like men #the ducklings in the sink inspired me #thank you for sending in this prompt!!#i hope you like it #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien drabble #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #day court elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

158 notes · View notes

magnusbae · 4 months

Note

"surprise i have feelings and you just hurt them" is so good

Thank you anon-dearest! 🥰🥰🥰

As I was given free reign, and also was too unreasonable for self control—I didn't only write it way longer than it should have been (250w per prompt LOL) I also fully rewritten in afterwards :')

Obikin || 1,500w || Obi-Wan & Anakin formed a new Force Bond and Obi-Wan has to deal with an increase in Force Migraines poor man

▾▾▾

“Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” Anakin spits the words out angrily, punctuating each word with a sharp hand gesture.

There’s heat rolling off of him in waves, it’s a tangible thing in the Force to anyone who is even mildly attuned to it. Even small living organisms would try and stir clear from someone so prominent in the force while they’re emitting such waves of emotions. It’s unsettling to all who is untrained, unable to recognize where and why the thing they are sensing is coming from. To someone who had even just begun their training, this would be a deafening roar. As for Obi-Wan, who had happened to share a somewhat-training-but-not-bond with said individual…. It’s destructively overwhelming.

There’s a pulsing migraine building up at Obi-Wan’s temples, swiftly spreading in pulses of pain through his forehead and head, blearing his vision in a way that is usually reserved to extreme battle fatigue. Obi-Wan’s patience is not only thinned out, but fully gone by this point. The pain, and the previously failed mission do not help. Anakin’s need to prove himself had cost them an important battle and speaking of Anakin’s feelings is truly not the thing they should be concerned most with—

“I think it’s hardly a surprise Anakin” he hears himself say more than he actually thinks through the words, he hardly manages to care as much as he probably should given how violate Anakin anyways is. “You are, more than less, hammering them against the minds of anyone unfortunate enough to be within the standard hour distance from us.”

Anakin’s mouth snaps open, there’s blotchy redness across his cheeks, he seems to not find the words to describe precisely how angry Obi-Wan’s word just made him. Silencing Anakin would be a feat to be commended on a normal day, if only that was true for his Force Signature as well. A fresh wave of emotions crush against his battered shields, straining them beyond their capacity.

The moment he feels the first crack run through, is the same moment they collapse completely.

Anger, hurt, betrayal, and…

Obi-Wan’s mind is momentarily blinded by the whirlpool of emotions washing over and sucking his own mind in. There’s too much of it, all at once, all different. The indignant anger, the vulnerable hurt, the deep sense of being abandoned and uncared for, the—

Obi-Wan whimpers silently. It’s a sharp exhale more than anything, yet it’s more than enough to alert Anakin. He might have found it endearing, how quickly Anakin’s attention had shifted from himself to him, if not for the crushing wave of new emotions, even more absolute in their intensity.

Worry, anxiety, fear, anger, confusion, fear, worry—

Obi-Wan feels like he might lose his mind within them.

“Stop,” he snaps at same time as Anakin had reached out for him. The boy pulls his hand away as if hit. Obi-Wan should care for this, care for how he feels more than how he himself feels at the moment….

Hurt, confusion, anger, hurt— anxiety, fear— fear—

Anakin’s emotions spiral into a deeper, more violent vortex of darkness, a never ending cycle, one emotion swallowing the tail of its predecessor, being reborn into the next one, each time bigger, stronger.

Oh Force. Obi-Wan thinks in desperation.This is too much.

“Master?” Anakin’s Force Signature is dripping fear, there’s an urgency to it that centers Obi-Wan enough to realize, with great shame, that his own pain started bleeding through their not-quite-training-bond— or…Force Bond, if he was honest enough. Call a Bantha a Bantha.

“Master, what is wrong, why are you…?” he reaches for him again, stopping quickly and retrieving his hand away. Anakin opening and closing his fist draws Obi-Wan’s attention. He looks like he’s about to blow up, and that, Obi-Wan knows, is something that would certainly echo even louder in the Force.

“Anakin please,” he reaches out to him, despite the inherent risk of touch increasing the intensity of the Bond. He must balance the boy long enough to give himself the opportunity to gather his shields into anything resembling those of a Jedi Master. That, or leave. He is not pained enough to be that cruel. Doesn’t ever plan to be. He braces himself instead.

“Dear One,” his knuckles touch Anakin’s cheek briefly, the word of endearment is strained, forced to some degree. It’s the one that never fails to get a reaction, uncover a meeker, more gentle side of Anakin. “You are deafening me” he gives the Bond a light, barely there nudge.

Anakin jumps at that as if zapped. Eyes wide, his face shifts through a number of complex thoughts, faster than what could register or broadcast emotionally through the Bond.

Suddenly, the storm is gone. What Anakin calls shields and Obi-Wan chides as only a suggestion of such is now a durasteel tight and not leaking anywhere. The silence that follows is deafening in its own right. He has to muffle the groan of relief, not wanting to rile Anakin again

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan smiles, pained. He knows that the migraine will only worsen now that it was set off, he still can appreciate not being radiated by a small sun through it, though.

“Excellent shielding, Padawan.” He sounds sarcastic even to his ears, even though he doesn’t mean to be. Anakin doesn’t react to it, looking more troubled than angry now, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“I’m…” Anakin bite his lower lip, still fuller than most despite him well and truly out of his teenage years. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things. “I didn’t mean to…” his cheeks are darker now, he looks ashamed. The aftertaste of Anakin’s emotion’s linger in Obi-Wan’s mind. Guilt. The last clear emotion Obi-Wan managed to decipher. Guilt for hurting him.

“I know.” Obi-Wan says curtly, he hopes that not unkindly. “I’d appreciate it if we could discuss the matter when I’m a little less…” he gestures at himself with what he hopes is the appropriate amount of self deprecation. There’s many reasons for Anakin’s lack of control, not all are good, but he still is a knight, still is learning.

There’s not a single good excuse for his own lack of mastery of himself.

“Obi-Wan, the Bond—” Anakin starts, disregarding Obi-Wan’s request in favor of what to his mind, is no bound far more urgent. The Bond. It had taken months for Obi-Wan to notice, the budding start of something new, growing in a different place than the long severed training Bond, developing over the months spent on joint missions on this endless war.

It seems that, as Obi-Wan had suspected, Anakin had managed to miss it out entirely.

“Not now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice sharpens, he should feel more guilt for the way Anakin’s shoulders jump up and tense.

“Fine, whatever…” Anakin mutters, looking away, glancing back and then away again. “Feel better.” He says with more hesitation than such a simple wish should warrant for. This time, Obi-Wan feels the full extent of guilt. He was too strict with him, those past few months were strained beyond what either one of them had wanted. He needs to speak with him, properly, make amends, properly.

Not now though, not while his head is splitting into two and his Force Signature is shaking after Anakin ground it so relentlessly. Knowing that Anakin didn’t mean to, doesn’t change the reality of things, his Force Signature can be downright oppressive if left unchecked. It’s not so felt when he himself is in the state for proper shields, however the repeated missions, the lack of sleep and the loss of the recent planet… were factors that are hard to ignore.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then he’ll be fine.

Obi-Wan refuses to acknowledge, even now, that what would bring the most immediate relief would be severing the Bond. Today showcased just how dangerous it is, how out of control it is, how out of Obi-Wan’s control it is. It all makes sense, any one following logic would have done it. A bond developed without their conscious choice in the matter, one that is not appreciate for Jedi to have.

The only thing that makes sense, is to end it. Yet this is the only thing that Obi-Wan will not do, is unwilling to do. He will not severe another Bond with Anakin. The consequences of the first time still too fresh in his own mind. Both for their relationship and…himself.

“Thank you, Anakin.” he says politely, hoping that he looks more collected than what he feels like. He refuses to think of this further for today. Giving Anakin the barest of hand waves, he turns and walks off.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then, he’ll be fine…

#I am dizzy with exhaustion I've been up and about for sooo long wow segthbr I am collapsing that's it.#This was both proof-read and rewritten at the very same time while I am bleary with tiredness so like you know -laughs-#obikin #obikin fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi wan #star wars #buns.w #buns.all #Anonymous #msg #Thank you everyone for sending prompts! I couldn't get to everything— this write in was already like... 8 hours long LMAO.#I hope that maybe sometime soon there will be an opportunity to sit down again and unpack the rest :)#yes i did rewrite a line when i noticed that the end result had 1498 words.... yes i have....#the repeat of thought in the end is on purpose though had to say that lmao that one thing is not tiredness

41 notes · View notes