#I get snuggled to death every night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mothwingwritings · 1 year ago

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Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh Sleeping Headcanons 🌙💤🛌

Hello everyone! In between fics I have been working on some headcanons, like this one, for your reading pleasure. :) It's some bedtime/sleeping arrangement scenarios feat. you and our favorite murderous companions. <3 It’s dedicated to all the sleepy individuals out there that just want to hit the hay and snooze the day away-I feel you and you are valid. Also there is a bonus plushie headcanon for each character because why not! If you don’t have at least stuffed creature on your bed, this is your sign to love yourself. Go acquire a friend and snuggle up with him, I demand it. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DUE TO THE NATURE OF THESE HEADCANONS AND THE SOURCE MATERIAL, 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: abuse/abusive relationships, noncon/dubcon, forced cuddling, forced interaction, forced relationships, implied kidnapping, being held against your will, reader is threatened and hurt, mentions of/implied sex, very lightly edited.

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Ren/Fox🦊

· Exceptionally clingy when he sleeps. Honestly like a suction cup. Regardless of if he’s the little or big spoon, he’ll be latched to you the whole night. Wiggle and complain as much as you like, he’s not relinquishing his hold.

· Even if you two are just taking a little nap together, he always has to have some kind of skin contact with you. Holding hands, cuddling, a limb draped over you, something. He needs the reminder that you are there and that you aren’t going anywhere, he can’t sleep peacefully without it.

· He’s warm. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably warm. In winter this poses no problem, but during the summer it’s nearly unbearable. You need to crank the AC to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sweat, but the added cold only makes him cling to you tighter, increasing the heat. He doesn’t seem to mind the warmth at all and takes offense if you try and voice your irritation, giving you an earful (if not worse) over how you need to be more grateful for the affection he douses you with, warning that if you don’t watch yourself, next time it snows you’ll be camping outside with nothing but the clothes on your back. We’ll see how much you miss his warmth then.

· He’s a night owl, but he also somehow always wakes up before you do. It’s not uncommon for you to be awoken by an eager beastkin shoving a homemade breakfast in your face, excited to start his day with his love by sharing breakfast in bed with you and watching anime. <3

· Though sometimes he gets a little too excited in the morning, and if that’s the case you’ll be waking up to a very handsy man pawing at you, kissing any and every place his lips can reach, pressing himself against you so you can feel just how excited he is. It’s a good thing you are in bed because by the time he’s done you’ll be so worn out you’ll need some more rest. ^^;

· Also, he is an avid fan of plushies. If you also collect them your bed is going to be 90% plushies and he is 100% going to use that as an excuse to be squeezed on the bed with you as close as physically possible so as you all can have room. None of them are allowed on the floor, no man is left behind, and he’ll make sure you all fit whether it is comfortable or not.

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Lawrence🌿

· Lawrence is the exact opposite of Ren when it comes to contact. Though he may fall asleep with you in his arms (or vice versa), he very quickly grows uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, his body used to being the sole person in his bed. Very shortly after he falls asleep, he will unconsciously push you away to try and create distance. No matter how much he may yearn for your contact in his waking hours, he has no control over his subconscious actions. Often times the shoving is much rougher than it needs to be, abruptly (and painfully) waking you up in the process.

· However, this does not deter him from making you sleep with him. Even if he ends up damn near shoving you off the bed, he wants you to be close to him for as long as and as much as possible.

· Lawrence is basically nocturnal, and even if you are also a night owl there are bound to be some times when your sleep schedules don’t fall in line with each other. He gets a little excited when you fall asleep when he is awake, taking pleasure in watching you as you slumber. The way you lay near him, completely unguarded and quiet, only the slow rise and fall of your chest denoting that you are alive at all… It does something for him. More than once you’ve woken up to him standing over you, face flushed and tears in his eyes as he’s pumping his dick to the sight of your passed out form. If you wake before he can finish himself, he’s gonna use you to complete the job.

· In fact, he just likes to stare at you while you sleep in general. He doesn’t have to feel anxious or worried of how you may perceive his gawking if you aren’t aware it’s happening to begin with. It’s a nice chance to really take in and appreciate your beauty without facing any backlash, and it comforts him to know you trust him enough to fall that deeply into slumber in his presence.

· Doesn’t really get the point of plushies and never really had a strong attachment to stuffed animals as a child, so he doesn’t have any of his own and has no desire to own any. He thinks it’s cute that you like them though, and won’t deny you if you want to take one or two to bed with you. If you gift him one, he’ll be flustered but thankful, hugging it when he is unable to hug you. The little friend is a perfect cuddle buddy for when your sleep schedules don’t align and he doesn’t want to disturb you once you have fallen asleep.

· Just be mindful that if he gets agitated or you piss him off, he’ll definitely destroy your beloved stuffies, tearing them to shreds with either his bare hands or any of the gardening tools he has lying around. He’ll instantly feel bad if you begin to cry over it, but at that point it’s too late. It’s best to stop the tears before he turns the assault towards you.

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Strade🔪

· Strade is all over the place when he sleeps. It doesn’t matter how big the bed is or how little space you take up in it, his presence is unavoidable. You can try and create as much distance as physically possible, scrunching yourself up in a corner in hopes that he doesn’t come in contact with you, and you’ll still end up with him sprawled all over you come morning.

· He’s also loud. Snoring, grunting, talking in his sleep, he’s so noisy it’s a wonder you can get any sleep at all. You get used to it after a while (you don’t have a choice), but each time he nudges you in his sleep or wakes you up with a particularly loud snore, it’s all just another unpleasant reminder you are stuck with him, unable to find tranquility even in your dreams.

· He has a tendency to latch on to and keep a close hold of whatever is closest to him while he sleeps. The moment he looks even slightly drowsy you try and stay away from him, not thrilled with the prospect of being smashed up against him for hours on end while he’s pleasantly off in dreamland. Were it anyone else or any other situation, you may find the clinginess endearing, but with Strade it’s just extremely uncomfortable and confusing. You spend the whole time unsure if you want him to wake up and let you go (and thus have to deal with an alert and active monster) or if you want to remain silent and just put up with it, thankful for the rare moment of peace.

· He sleeps the best after successfully finding and securing a new victim, the gusto and energy that he puts towards spending time with his new ‘friend’ leaves him completely spent by the end of the day. A tired Strade is usually a good thing for you-if he’s worn out, he’s less likely to bother or hurt you. However the opposite is also true, if he hasn’t been able to blow off steam in a while he’ll grow antsy and restless, and he’s bound to make his lack of sleep and overall disgruntlement your problem. Regardless, you won’t get much sleep either way, as you find no contentment in either situation.

· Though they aren’t really his thing, he is amused by your plushies. While he can see the appeal of them, the only real interest he takes in them is how you react to them. Which ones are your favorite, do you favor one character or animal over another, do you prefer the big and fluffy or small and squishy? Most importantly though, he wants to know how deeply your fondness for them extends and how/if he can use that as a persuasive tool against you in the future. Should they prove to be a promising means of coercion, prepare for quite a few new plush friends to keep you company in the future. :)

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Celia👩‍💼

· She’s an early riser. Not necessarily because she wants to so much as it’s engrained in her from years of putting in overtime at her corporate job. If you try and pull her back into bed she’ll gripe at you, but is secretly happy that you are willingly making yourself a scapegoat for her laziness. Though on days she absolutely has to get up early, you best be getting up right alongside her to help her get ready for the day or you will be deeply regretting it. She always takes precedence, you can sleep more when she leaves.

· She’s on edge most of the time and is overall a very light sleeper. If you snore or toss and turn too much, she’ll get pissed off and roughly shove you awake, grumbling obscenities while complaining about how annoying you are being. If she can’t sleep, she certainly isn’t going to let you sleep either.

· Even if you aren’t a noisy or restless sleeper, she’ll still find constant things to gripe about regarding your sleeping arrangement. Either you take up too much room, or you are encroaching on her personal space, or you have some other sleeping habit she finds grating that you have no control over because you are unconscious when you do it. She doesn’t ever seem overly pleased to share sleeping space with you, and you often wonder why she doesn’t just banish you to the couch or some other place to get your rest.

· And yet, she never does make you sleep elsewhere. In fact, it only makes her MORE pissed off if you suggest it, taking it as a personal offense that you don’t want to spend time with her. She won’t admit it to you, but the act of sleeping near someone she doesn’t positively loathe or who isn’t trying to use her in some way is one of the few things that really brings her peace. Even if it’s against your will, having you in bed with her soothes her. It’s honestly the best sleep she has had in ages.

· She’s not a huge cuddler, but she does like physical confirmation that you are near. Often times she’ll reach out in the night to grab your hand or drape her arm across your body, never smothering, but just enough contact to assure that you are still by her side.

· She staunchly refuses to have any stuffed animals in her bed, telling you she finds them childish and stupid (whether she actually feels this way or is just pissed you are trying to bring things into her bed that take up even more space is debatable). If she finds any plushies you are hiding she will most likely throw them away on sight. You may be able to get away with a little one, but that’s only if she doesn’t find it or is feeling extremely benevolent.

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Derek🦂

· The only time Derek shows any kind of ‘affection’ is when he sleeps. Like Strade, he likes to secure himself to things while he slumbers, and if he doesn’t fall asleep with an item (you) already in his arms at some point in the night, he will subconsciously grab onto something (also you) and not relent until he wakes the next morning.

· The way he clings to you can almost be considered sweet. Wrapping his arms around you securely, burying his face into your chest or the crux of your neck as he snuggles up against you as close as physically possible, it makes you momentarily forget what a monster the man beside you actually is. It’s almost as if he’s a child huddled up close to a parent, seeking comfort from the things that go bump in the night. The spell is broken if he happens to be awoken during one of these cuddle sessions, and he’ll take out his embarrassment over the situation by treating you even crueler than he typically does.

· One of the few niceties he allows you is sleeping in his bed as opposed to the floor-but it comes at a price. It’s an honor to be able to sleep next to him nightly in his huge, plush, expensive bed, an honor far too good for the likes of you. He expects to be compensated for his generosity, so you’d best be ready to do any and everything he asks or desires at the drop of a hat, no matter how degrading or agonizing it may be. If you want to keep this privilege while preventing as much suffering as possible, you’ll do as he says. (Then again, it’s not like he really needs your active participation to force what he wants out of you, but he does like when you obey him ‘willingly’ and has a tendency to be a smidge less cruel when you follow his instruction).

· He usually forces you to either sleep nude or in some very compromising/uncomfortable/embarrassing negligee that covers so little you mine as well BE naked. He’s a blanket hog too, and has a penchant for cranking up the AC at night, leaving your only source of warmth to be curling up beside him. You try and fight it at first, but you inevitably give in when the chill gets to be too much (also you aren’t too keen on getting ill in his presence, swallowing your pride is worth it if you can avoid more suffering).

· He will mercilessly make fun of and belittle you for any stuffed animals you may have or try to sleep with. He’ll infantilize you, asking if you need a binky to go with your stuffy, or tease that he’ll need to put you in diapers so you don’t accidentally shit the bed. However, even with all the constant mocking, he does find it kinda hot when you try and use the plushies as a shield, doing your best to conceal your sniveling face and exposed body behind the fluffy creature as he plows into you ruthlessly. The toy does a shit job shielding you, but it is hilarious to watch you try and hide yourself behind them.

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Mason🐻

· Despite everything, he’s actually probably the nicest of the lot to sleep with. He’s warm and soft, and when he holds you it’s comforting and shockingly soothing. It’s disconcerting how easily you melt into the same person that caused you so much trauma and torment, haunted by the fact that the arms that now wrap snuggly around you were not so long ago the greatest threat to your life. You don’t know whether you should be more disgusted with him for holding you with such familiarity or yourself for enjoying it as much as you do.

· The man can sleep almost anywhere. After years of surviving out in the wilderness he has honed his body to handle tough climates and all manner of conditions, granting him the ability to thrive in less than favorable environments. The man could probably fall asleep in the middle of a torrential downpour with nothing but a rock bed beneath him and come out of it completely rested.

· You aren’t expected to immediately be able to rough it. He realizes this way of life is all fairly new to you and that getting used to nights out in the wilderness has its own learning curve. Because of this, he’s actually surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing. When you camp, he makes sure to bring his best tent and sleeping bag for you to use, even though it’s a hassle to drag around and he himself has long since forgone the need for it. Though it’s nearly impossible to find comfort enough to sleep while stranded deep out in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black of night, all manner of voracious wild animals, and a serial killer, he does his best to make sure you are adequately cared for and as content as you can possibly be.

· However you best not slack with your survival instincts, this coddling is only a limited time deal. You proved yourself to him once by pulling through his trial, but that doesn’t mean you have a free ride forever. He’ll pamper you a bit in the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but if you grow complacent and begin to let him down… It isn’t going to be a smooth or happy time for either of you. Its best not to betray his expectations, if you do something overly stupid or otherwise show your survival was just a fluke… your sleeping arrangement is going to be the least of your concern.

· He finds your affinity for stuffed animals a bit juvenile, but also slightly endearing. He can’t deny how cute you look when you are curled up in his bed, nestled amongst various furs and blankets, clutching tight to your favorite plushie while you rest. He enjoys that sight so much that he decides to make you his own plushie for you one day as a gift.

· It was a strange little lumpy creature he cobbled together from various fabric scraps and other soft, but unidentified, material, all sloppily hand sewn with little black buttons for eyes. It was a true amalgamation of mismatched cloth and stuffing, and to be honest… You weren’t really sure what it was supposed to be. A bear, maybe? Or a raccoon? Regardless, you take it without question, and once he sees it’s been accepted he’s quick to discard your previous plush. He’s accepting of this hobby to a degree-you can have ONE. And since you were smart and picked the better of the two, you don’t need the ratty old one to cling to for company anymore. You have him and you have his gift, everything else is frivolous.

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jobean12-blog · 1 year ago

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This Spells Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Best friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2,782

Summary: Bucky is your best friend and he really is the best but he wants more, he wants everything, but the idea that it could ruin your friendship and he could lose you is too much...

Author's Note: This is for @the-slumberparty February Sleepover Challenge, Eight Types of Love and Philia (deep friendshp-friends to lovers). Our reader is a bit oblivious to Bucky's feelings but it all works out just fine in the end. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: lots of fun and fluff and sweetness and Bucky being the best and some tension and a bit of flirty fun too, slightly oblivious reader.

The groan Bucky lets loose makes you spin your head to look at him.

“Did you say something?” you ask, trying to speak loud enough over the din of the bar.

He shakes his head no and digs his teeth into his bottom lip when you smile and shift again in his lap, turning back to your group of friends. Every time you move it’s sweet torture but he can’t seem to keep himself away…and besides, there are no empty seats…he can’t let you stand and you wouldn’t want him to stand…so sitting in his lap it is!

His fingers dig into your thigh and you turn to face him again.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching his face.

“Yeah, doll. All good.”

Steve shoots Bucky a smirk and Bucky shoots back a steady death glare.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Nat, who’s sitting to your left.

She just smiles and takes a sip of her drink.

You can feel Bucky’s warm breath on your neck before he speaks.

“You want another doll face?” he asks.

With a pensive tilt of your head you pause before telling him, “yeah, one more.”

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your ear.

He deposits you in the seat and walks toward the bar.

You instantly feel his absence and fiddle with your empty glass. You listen to Steve and Sam argue about their last run time while Nat and Wanda chime in, teasing both boys but the conversation starts to fade away when you feel the weight of Bucky’s eyes and you look toward the bar to catch him staring.

He waves awkwardly and you giggle.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to the table.

When you reach the bar Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in question.

“You looked bored,” you shrug.

“Thanks doll,” he winks.

There are even more people by the bar and they continue to crowd around you, pushing to get closer. When someone bumps you particularly hard Bucky pins them with a murderous stare before he slips his metal arm around your waist and pulls you in front of him.

He settles both hands on the bar top on either side of you and leans his chin on your shoulder.

“Too many people,” he explains as his hard chest presses into your back.

You snuggle into the safety of his arms and wait for your drink.

“Are you ever gonna say something to her man?” Sam asks Bucky as they stand outside the bar with Steve.

You, Wanda and Nat are in the bathroom.

“About what?” Bucky asks with an incredulous expression.

Sam rolls his eyes and Steve’s hands land on his hips.

“Buck,” Steve sighs. “You’re torturing yourself.”

“No I’m not,” Bucky counters. “Not having her at all would be torture.”

His last words come out quietly and Sam and Steve give each other a knowing look.

“Well, I still think you should do something…say something…she might feel the same way. What have you got to lose?” Sam asks.

“Everything,” Bucky answers as he watches you come out the door and back to his side.

As you walk down the street toward your apartment building you can feel Bucky staring so you give him a sideways glance.

“It’s the shoes, isn’t it?” he demands when he catches your eye.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say and lift your chin.

“This always happens at the end of the night doll face. You wear these shoes and they hurt your feet and then I’m supposed to just watch you suffer.”

“I have a solution,” you chime with a determined smile.

He stops walking to watch as you slip off your shoes and place your bare feet back onto the sidewalk with a contented sigh.

When you see Bucky’s scowl it makes your smile widen. “What’s the problem now Barnes?”

“Put them back on doll. You’re going to step on something like broken glass or worse…”

You spin away with a breeze and start walking again but before you get very far your feet leave the ground and you’re cradled against his chest.

“You were put on his Earth to drive me crazy; you know that doll face?”

“I’m not sorry about it,” you whisper into the collar of his shirt. “Does that make me a bad person?”

You giggle when you feel his huff of frustration.

“No. You could never be a bad person.”

As you nuzzle closer and inhale his familiar scent you express a quiet, “thank you,” before yawning.

“Too tired for the stars tonight?” he asks as his arms flex to heft you higher.

“No! I love when we look at the stars.” You tilt your head back and look at the sky. “It’s a clear night too.”

“Don’t you like it?” you ask, bringing your eyes back to his.

“I love it,” he says. “Just like I love when you practice new baking recipes and I get to taste test them all.”

“That’s fun for me too except that you say you like everything I bake! It can’t all be that good.”

You lay a soft hand against his scruffy cheek and the corner of his mouth kicks up.

“It��s all that good,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Well the next time my macaroons don’t have good feet you better speak up Buck!”

“Macarons have feet…not macaroons…big difference,” he says.

You hum against his neck with a smile. “I know that. Just making sure were paying attention.”

His hold on you tightens slightly and he looks down just as your eyes start to close.

He’s always paying attention.

Bucky slows his steps and turns on his heels, watching as Sam and Steve approach.

“Man you two are slow today,” he teases.

Steve purses his lips and throws a thumb in Sam’s direction. “I’m just trying to keep this one company.”

Sam grunts out a string of curses and plops down on the nearby bench.

“I can’t stand either of you,” Sam says between catching his breath.

“I have to make a phone call,” Bucky states as he saunters off for some privacy.

He presses your name on the screen and puts it to his ear.

“Hiya doll face,” he says when you pick up.

“Hi Buck!”

“Are you on your way home yet?”

“I am.”

“Pizza?”

“Sure, I’m starving…”

“Me t…”

“Of course you are,” you cut in. “You’re always hungry.”

He laughs. “Well I did just finish a run.”

“I’ll meet you at my place?” you ask.

“Sounds good, how much time do you need?”

You open your mouth to answer but the words die on your lips when your foot catches a crack on the sidewalk and you careen forward.

“Doll?” Bucky asks, “you still there?”

He hears scuffling but you still don’t answer.

“Doll?”

His heart beats faster the longer you don’t reply and instinctively his feet start to carry him toward your workplace.

“Where are you goin’?” Sam asks as Bucky runs by.

“Everything ok?” Steve asks.

“I gotta go,” is all Bucky says as he starts jogging.

He’s already half way to you when you pick your phone up off the concrete and try to say hello. The screen is cracked and black and you curse under your breath.

“Bucky?” you say softly but your phone is dead.

You try to put pressure on your ankle but it hurts and with a wince you scoot backwards to avoid the foot traffic. You search the crowd, waiting for someone to stop and help but it isn’t until you see Bucky rush toward you that you feel true relief.

He’s at your side, kneeling on the concrete and running his eyes over every inch of you. He’s sweaty and breathing heavily and one of the most welcoming sights you’ve ever seen.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes out. “I was worried sick.”

You start to say you’re sorry but he interrupts you.

“You tripped didn’t you?” he asks.

You nod.

“How?”

“My foot…got stuck. I don’t even know.”

He stares at you blankly before pinching the bridge of his nose. When he opens his mouth to speak you clap a hand over it.

“I know…I’m clumsy and I have to be more careful…just take me home.”

His expression softens.

“Of course doll, it’s a good thing I’m here.”

“It is,” you echo. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He gently brushes his fingers over your ankle, inspecting it.

“Come on doll. Let’s get some ice on this.”

When you reach the door of your apartment Bucky props you up against his side, his hand secured around your waist and his fingers slipping under your shirt when he moves so you can get your keys.

He sucks in a breath at the contact and you give him a confused look.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’,” he answers, willing his fingers to stay put and not explore your soft skin. “Got your keys?”

“Right here,” you say and hand them over.

He unlocks the door and helps you inside.

“We forgot the pizza!” you say, whirling around and nearly falling over since you’re mostly supporting yourself on one leg.

He reaches out and snakes his arm around your waist again. “Woah, careful doll face.”

You place a palm on his chest and lean into him. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll order a pizza right now. Don’t worry.”

“Order two. You practically eat a whole one yourself.”

“True,” he winks.

He pulls out his phone and starts to dial the pizza place.

“Wanna stay and watch a movie?” you ask.

His fingers pause and hover over the buttons as he looks up at you. “Which movie?”

“Hmm…how about Magic Mike?”

“Doll.”

“Alien?”

“You won’t sleep for weeks,” he says with a stern look.

“Fine! What about…” and you tap your chin.

“Notting Hill,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Sure,” he shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “Steve said I should watch it.”

You give him a wide smile and push from his grasp, limping toward your bedroom. Bucky watches until you safely sit yourself on the bed and then goes to the freezer to grab a frozen bag of vegetables.

“I can’t wait until the pizza gets here,” you sigh as you start to unbutton your shirt. He tries to focus on what you’re saying but when you pull the fabric from your shoulders and reveal the light camisole beneath he suddenly feels like a trapped animal needing to either pounce or run away at full speed.

“Will you put the movie on Buck? I don’t want to get up again.”

You collapse back onto the bed and needing the closest distraction he takes the bag of peas and places it on your ankle, adjusting it so it doesn’t fall.

“Thanks,” you say. “Don’t forget the movie Buck.”

He blinks at you several times. “You want to watch it in here? What about the couch?”

He gestures to himself. “Look at me. I can’t get in your bed like this. I’m a sweaty mess.”

“You smell good to me but if you want to shower, there are extra towels in the hall closet.”

You hear the water turn on a few minutes later and realize you’re thirsty so you peel yourself off the bed and limp to the kitchen, knowing Bucky will reprimand you when he realizes you got up without his help.

Once you have your water you go back to your bedroom and wait for the shower to turn off, closing your eyes briefly.

You don’t even realize you’ve lightly dozed off until you hear Bucky’s heavy tread on the wood floor. You open your eyes and see him standing in the doorway, filling the entire frame.

Shirtless. Skin still shiny with wetness and his jeans sitting low on his hips, revealing the V shape of his muscles. And then you drag your eyes higher and stare at his abs, now flexing as he lifts the towel and rubs it over his hair one last time.

His metal arm shines under the bright lights in your room, distracting you further but not enough to miss the droplet of water that escapes the swipe of the towel and rolls down his sharp jaw before sliding down his neck and between his pecs. It get’s lost somewhere in the valleys of his six pack but your eyes move down again, landing on the dark trail of hair below his belly button.

“Did you forget I was here doll face?” he asks.

The sound of his voice pulls you from your haze and your eyes shoot up to his.

“No…” you start. “I just…I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“How?”

“Doll did you hit your head when you fell?”

“NO!” you answer far too loudly. “It’s not that. I’m fine. My ankle just hurts but I don’t understand how you have those abs.”

You motion to his stomach and he looks down.

“You eat whole pizzas!”

He throws his head back with a laugh and then drops the towel into your hamper. He’s still grinning when he rounds the bed and climbs in behind you, all his muscles flexing as he settles in.

“Yeah well, I run a lot…and you know the serum helps.”

Your laughter eases the tension a little but only until he places his hands beneath his head and stretches out, making your bed feel tiny.

“Why don’t you ever bring girls around Buck?”

Your question surprises both of you and your apology catches in your throat.

He sits up without warning and reaches for your glass of water, taking a long sip.

“Forget I asked,” you mumble. “I shouldn’t have.”

He shakes his head and takes another drink.

“Do you want me to bring girls around?”

Your immediate reaction is to inwardly scream NO! but instead you ask, “would we still be able to hang out like we do?”

“Probably not doll face,” he says and shifts closer. “Pretty sure you’d make any girl jealous.”

“Then no,” you whisper. “No girls.”

You look away with the admission and then blurt out.

“You smell like my bodywash now. Did you use my shampoo too?”

“Nah,” he murmurs. “Just used the bar soap.”

You face him again and then lean over to sniff his head.

“You definitely used it, don’t lie!”

Capitalizing on having you so close Bucky wraps his arm around you and draws you against his side. Your head lands on his shoulder and you instantly relax, feeling safe and warm.

“You smell good. I like it,” he murmurs.

“I like the way you smell better,” you say sleepily, mumbling something else incoherent before you start to doze off.

You wake slowly and as the heaviness of sleep wears off you open your eyes to partial darkness and become acutely aware of the hum of anticipation that travels over your sensitized and warm skin. You feel taut and the building pressure between your legs makes you rub your thighs together.

Bucky’s steadying breath makes you turn in his arms, your chest brushing his. You can feel your pulse beat against your skin, pounding wildly all over your body.

For long seconds you study his face and then your eyes are obscured by your lashes when your gaze travels lower, over his bare chest and then even lower to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Bucky I…”

Your eyes lock for a fleeting moment and then his gaze drops to your mouth. He dips his head, running his nose along your jaw until his lips lightly brushing the skin of your cheek.

“If you want me to stop…tell me now.”

You say nothing, his delicate touch making your entire body tremble. Then his lips graze yours, just barely, the quick taste not nearly enough.

“Or now…”

Your eyes are closed and you make no sound.

He presses his lips to yours, softly at first, searching and waiting for you to react but when a moan gathers at the back of your throat it’s all the reassurance he needs and he sweeps his thumb across your cheek, cradling your face and angling your head for a deeper taste.

When he rolls his hips you feel the fullness of his arousal against your belly and your lips part on a gasp. A low growl rumbles in his chest and he pulls away to look at you.

“Is that for me?” you ask, still breathless.

“It’s all yours…if you want it.”

His eyes darken with the words and you see the heat in his intense gaze but it only makes you feel coveted and safe.

“I want you Bucky. I don’t want anyone but you.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #friends to lovers #typesoflovesleepover

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i2rizz · 1 month ago

Note

hii ! Your last fic abt the bllk boys turning into kids was so good 🥹 do you mind doing a reo and Nagi version ??

Absolutely!

Tho i also added bachira and chigiri :>

Bllk Boys Turned Into Children Pt.2

Nagi Seishiro

You find him half-asleep under your blanket, looking like a sleepy little marshmallow.

“Huh? Y/n?” he yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you so big?”

Oh. God. Nagi’s tiny.

He’s the same ol’ lazy boy but now he’s adorable about it.

“I don’t wanna walk. Carry me”

Refuses to be put down.

Clings to your leg like a sleepy sloth. You try to cook? He’s clinging. Bathroom? He’s at the door. You sit? He’s already sprawled in your lap.

“Can you scratch my back? And play video games? And feed me snacks?”

And if you say no? This manchild will look up at you with big, misty eyes and whimper, “You don’t love me anymore?”

By the end of the day, you’ve hand-fed him cereal, braided his hair because “you’re good at it,” and rocked him to sleep during a movie. He mumbles in his sleep, clutching your hoodie: “You’re my favorite buff”

You don’t even know what that means, but your heart is melted.

Reo Mikage

You come home to see a tiny boy standing on the kitchen stool in one of your designer hoodies, his arms swimming in the sleeves.

“I used the gold card,” he says. “Don’t be mad”

…He bought a bounce house. It’s already in the yard.

Reo is that rich kid energy even as a child—dramatic, pouty, and thinks money can fix everything.

But he’s also so painfully in love with you.

“Will you marry me?”

“Reo, you’re like seven.”

“I can wait. I’m patient. I’ll grow into my tuxedo if i don't turn back”

He shows you magic tricks (bad ones), wants to match outfits, and keeps trying to impress you with cartwheels (they suck).

But the second you call him cute?

His cheeks light up like he’s on fire. “You can’t just say that! I have a reputation! I’m classy!”

He throws tantrums when denied snacks but ends up sulking in your lap anyway, mumbling, “I just wanted to make you proud…”

You almost cry.

Bachira Meguru

You find him upside-down on the couch.

No literally. Upside-down. Hanging. Smiling.

“HIIIIIIIII~!”

You’re already exhausted.

Kid!Bachira is pure gremlin energy. He’s fast. He’s loud. He climbs everything. He won’t stop talking.

He makes up wild stories. “I turned into a kid ‘cause of aliens. They like soccer too.”

Runs around the house with your scarf as a cape.

Tries to draw on your face when you fall asleep.

But the second you look even a little sad?

He crashes into you with the fiercest hug and whispers, “Don’t be sad. I’ll fight the aliens for you”

Then cries when you say you’re proud of him.

At bedtime, he refuses to sleep alone and insists you tell him stories. When you ask what kind?

“Ones where we win. And I get to kiss you”

You choke on your water. He giggles.

Chigiri Hyoma

You find a small, red-haired boy sitting on the floor, frowning at your moisturizer.

He looks up slowly. “…Don’t look at me.”

Tiny Chigiri is just as prideful, just as pretty, and now—extra sassy.

He’s dramatic over every scraped knee, refuses to let you brush his hair (“You’ll mess it up!”), and gives death glares to your phone if it takes too much of your attention.

“I don’t need help,” he grumbles, dragging a chair twice his size across the kitchen.

But he does want you to sit and watch him do it.

The moment you praise him? His ears go pink.

“Not like I did it for you or anything…”

Sure, lil prince.

He still gets shy if you kiss his forehead but secretly climbs into your bed to snuggle at night, face buried in your side.

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, death of a patient )at the beginning) heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 8k

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

♡ Reblogs and comments appreciated ♡

=͟͟͞♡<<<Part Five =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist =͟͟͞♡ Part Seven>>>

Part Six

Satoru has a morning routine.

Skincare? Well a splash of cold water on his face, he’s been lucky enough to have insane genetics, in his mid thirties he could pass for a college student, not a line on his perfect skin. But that was really all he did, that splash of cold water every morning, as he then starts to take his morning cocktail, after that he makes himself eat something, then brushes his teeth.

After that, he gets ready for the day, and as that Adderall mixes with his morning coffee? Fuck it’s perfection. Then when the Kolonopin hits right along with it, Satoru’s mind is blissfully open, and he’s able to focus on what he does best, saving lives. One doesn’t just become the best doctor there is, no that takes time, precision, and a lot of sacrifice.

Satoru is alone, usually. For a night he had you in here, in his bed and snuggled against him, and fuck he enjoyed it, which terrifies him. It’s been a week since he’s been able to do more than sneak hungry kisses with you in the locker room of the hospital, your schedule is longer than even his as you’re an intern, recently you worked twenty four hours straight.

Fuck he admires you, how even exhausted and dead on your feet, you manage to put a bright smile on your face, he’d love to just take care of you, but you have to go through this to truly become a great doctor. But he finds himself missing you, constantly thinking about you. You’ve become a fixation, a sort of obsession, he wants to know so much more about you.

He wants your body to fall apart under him again, wants to taste your arousal on his tongue, feel you clench around his fingers, watch as your cheeks flush and your hips raise for him. He wants you naked in his bed, but he also knows he’s just not good enough for you, for what you want and need.

But he’s selfish.

It’s almost Christmas, and the snow has piled up as he slides into his warmed up car, thinking of you and your ancient SUV, he hopes you at least have heat. His drive to the hospital is quiet, no music, as he takes another pill, this one is his Xanax, something about Klonopin and Xanax is blissful. Any stress he has gets replaced by a ton of ‘I don’t give any fucks’.

He knows you saw, you haven’t mentioned it though, and tonight he’s supposed to actually get you on this date. He wants time with just you, no other distractions, being inside of you is better than any cocktail of benzos he could dream of. If it was all his life consisted of, maybe he could go without it.

But the real world is just that.

The waiting room is packed, Satoru instantly goes into doctor mode, getting one lady in a wheelchair who’s vomiting blood, and he thanks god for that xanax, to help him through. He thanks god (or medicine rather) for the adderall making him have enough energy to run back and forth like a madman, helping everyone he can.

He helps the med students, the interns, the patients, the doctors on the floor who all come to him. ‘Dr. Gojo’ this ‘Please, Dr. Gojo- a minute’ that. Can you check this patient, can you check this scan, all while he’s got his eyes on his four interns, including the girl consuming him, the girl with exhausted eyes and shoulders that just look too narrow lately.

The girl he makes eat something because she’s been here all night helping a baby after a rough c section. He finds you in the nicu, with your hand inside the incubator, when he holds the coffee and muffin he’s brought you. But he pauses to watch you, as you mesmerize him with your pretty smile, singing something to the itty bitty baby.

“Does that actually help? I’ve heard it does.” Satoru murmurs, you jolt just a bit, looking up at him nervously.

“I think they enjoy the interaction, do you know if baby’s don’t get it they just… won’t make it?” You gulp as you speak, before continuing to hum.

“Shoko says you’ve been at it all night, why not eat a little something?” He suggests, you sigh, nodding then, taking off your gloves, going to wash your hands and pat them dry.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You give him a little kiss, and he exhales, setting your things down to pull you close.

“I miss you, can you hate babies already so you’re back on my floor?” You giggle breathlessly then.

“No, sorry. I miss you too.” You kiss him slowly, softly, your lips little brushes against his, in an easy rhythm that feels so natural, so perfect.

“Fine, one more day then I want you back.”

“Needy for me?” You tease, and he exhales, nodding. “I can’t wait for us to have a date, if shit doesn’t hit the fan.”

“When doesn’t it? Alright, you eat Missy.”

“Thank you Satoru.” You kiss him again, he pulls you so tight, like he can’t get you close enough, before letting you go.

After eating your breakfast/lunch/dinner - that muffin encompasses all of your overnight shift - you’re yawning when Shoko comes to you. “Emergency c section, you ready for this, intern?”

“Ready.” You’re scrubbing in now with Dr. Shoko, as the patient is prepped and sedated, falling into a slumber.

“She was a drug user, the entirety of the pregnancy.” Shoko informs you softly, as well as the others, and you pause then, looking up at her soft brown eyes behind her glasses.

“Is that why she’s so small?” You murmur, she looks maybe three months pregnant at best.

“Mmhm, it’s not the first. Four of them had fetal problems, two made it and were sent to child protective services.”

“Four!?” Shoko sighs, nodding as she starts prepping her, drawing a line with a marker over her lower abdomen.

The surgery begins, you’re trying to keep your eyes on the procedure, not the heart rate monitor of the baby you heard earlier, already so faint there’s likely no chance. You don’t need to hear the baby’s heart drop, not when you know what that means, not when it’s one of your worst fears in this job so far.

You know all lives are important, but something about a sweet, precious baby not making it makes you question anything and everything, kids in general, it’s so much to handle so much. You know you can’t let it get you, you have to do what you do with all patients, focus.

Satoru wants you to dislike babies, to know better, but where he’s wrong is working with Shoko has you more in love with them. But you could do without, without having children, even if it’s heartbreaking to think of, if it meant having Satoru’s love. You could put that aside and respect him, but right now all you can think of is how badly you hope this baby has a chance.

“Scalpel.” You watch as Shoko makes the incision, a perfect line, and you’re trying to keep your breath even as you watch her pull back the skin, the muscle, the fat, until she’s finally cutting toward the uterus.

You both are resting pieces of this woman’s small body on her nearly flat, open stomach, one of the oddest parts of the procedure. “Not much blood, that’s good.”

“Yes, here.” Then you see it, the uterus as Shoko hands you the scalpel. “You can do this.”

You take it with sure hands, a sense of dread filling you, one you’ve felt before, but you shove it down, as you delicately cut to reveal the baby, so tiny and blue, and not moving whatsoever. You swallow down the bile in your throat, taking a deep breath behind your mask as you start to suction its nose and mouth, it’s little limbs twitching slightly for just a moment.

“Come on, come on little one, breathe, please.” You whisper, your voice hoarse as you try to get it to breathe, taking the little boy to the little table as Shoko stitches the mom back up.

You’re intubating the baby that’s not crying, you’re giving it oxygen, you’re doing the little compressions, and you can’t hold back the tears that fall as you realize there’s no chance. This baby is maybe five months gestation at best, but even for that it’s unreasonably tiny, it’s just a helpless little doll on your table, one that you keep trying, as Shoko comes, listening for breathing, looking for any sign of life.

You hate that you're crying right here, that you can barely hold yourself together. Just what sort of doctor even are you!? You hate that you’re not stronger than this, but you’re just so tired, and you hate that you can’t save everyone, especially this little boy. Did he even have a chance, as his mother did all of that?

Even so, you hate that you couldn’t save him. You hate that Satoru isn’t here to hold you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to distract you from this depression, Shoko’s murmuring in your ear, but you can’t even hear her truly. You keep repeating to yourself- ‘you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor’.

You have to keep going, even when it’s hard, right? You keep going even when it’s all just too much. You are shaking however, when Shoko gently pulls you away from the lifeless little body, shaking her head then.

“Long gone, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, you have to be pried off the little lifeless baby.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Step outside, I’ll be there.”

You realize from the talk amongst the nurses and others that the mother didn’t even care, she had meant to have an abortion but was too preoccupied, and thought drugs would ‘deal with it’. You can’t stop your anger, your fury, despite needing to remain ‘detached’.. You’re sobbing silently, sitting in one of the waiting room seats when Shoko and Satoru come to you.

“Think you need to take a break, go with Satoru for a bit, hmm?” You nod a bit, Shoko holds you for a moment, kissing your head, and you fall into Satoru’s arms, wrapped up so tightly, inhaling his scent, that cologne of his, feeling his heart against your cheek.

“Oh, baby… I’m so sorry.” He whispers huskily. “Come on, let’s go have some privacy?”

Soon you’re in his office, and you can’t hold it back anymore, not when it’s just the two of you, you break down completely, until you’re a mess.

“Shh, shh.” Satoru’s rubbing your back as you break into sobs, unable to breathe now, getting lightheaded as your breaths come in sharp little pants. “Hey, you need to take a deep breath.”

“C-can’t… how can I… be a doc- if I…” You’re all flushed and red when he pulls back and looks at you, cupping your face between his big hands.

“Breathe. In. Out.”

“C-can’t, can’t… fucking it all up… I…” You back away then, hand on your chest, struggling as your hands are going numb, and you feel yourself getting dizzy. “The baby is just… he’s just gone and I… I can’t take it.”

Satoru sighs, holding you closely. “You have to though, this is what being a doctor is, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, feeling your blood pressure rising more and more, the crushing weight and your exhaustion hitting. “Then I can’t, I can’t-”

“Yes. You can.” Satoru shakes you then, grabbing you by your shoulders. “You can do this, you did what you could with the baby. Plenty of others you’ve saved, and their moms. You can’t fix everything.”

“I… I…” You collapse against him, sobbing again, as the door knocks, Satoru shushes you gently.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Gojo…” You hear Miwa’s voice then, you quickly swipe at the streams of tears on your sticky cheeks.

“I’m busy right now, what is it?” You’re turning away, trying to get yourself together now.

“I am prepping OR 3 for surgery.”

“Yes, thanks.” Satoru’s hand is on your back now, comforting in its touch, but then his words make you tense. “Do you see now?”

“See what exactly?” You turn to him, eyes swimming with tears that are burning as you struggle to focus.

Satoru sighs, swiping a hand through his silky white locks, before putting his hands in the lab coat pockets, tilting his head. “How awful it’d be, to have kids. Especially this line of work, how could you keep it all together?”

You glare then, jaw setting, hands clenched into fists by your sides, fury taking over every part of you. “What!?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but maybe this is a learning lesson, a reality check of what you’ll handle here.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, breaths quicker and quicker. “You know what? I have not said shit about the cocktail of pills in your bathroom. I have not said shit about the fact that you seem to hate kids or something. I have not said one word about you, about your lifestyle, your fear of commitment, I haven’t tried to change you or pry.”

Satoru falters then, hitting him in waves how furious you are, realizing now what he’s done, his lips parting. “Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, you’ll let me finish, Dr. Gojo.” At your formal tone he’s breaking, he sees it then, you’re trembling, barely able to keep it together, he feels your anger and even worse, your disappointment. “I haven’t said a damn thing, because we just got together, and we don’t even know each other yet.”

“You act like this connection is normal?” His hands go to your waist, but you shove them off.

“No, it’s not, but what is also not normal is pushing someone to want what you want. You’re trying so hard to make me change my mind, for what? So I can be a perfect little girlfriend for you? So easy, let you do what you want and have no fucking opinions?”

“That’s not what I want. I want you.” He tries again, but his hands freeze an inch above your skin when you glare up at him through tears.

“I don’t pry, I don’t judge, I just accept you. But you can’t accept anything that doesn’t fit into your world, can you?”

“I can accept it, I just know you’re not thinking rationally, you’re young and still inexperienced.”

You laugh then, a humorless laugh at him. “That’s insane talk from you, truly Dr. Gojo. Your whole MO is thinking outside the norms, is letting feelings in. But only if it benefits you. And my age? I’m no baby, you’re not even that much older.”

“It’s life experience, is all.”

“Hah, you don’t even know my life.”

“Just… I’ll drop it. I swear.” You shake your head at him, and he panics then, sensing you falling back from him. “I will drop it, come here, you’re upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset! What I just had to see, what I just had to… and you’re what, rubbing it in my face!?”

Satoru’s blood pressure rises as he realizes he’s losing you, his hands trembling, sure hands that never falter. “I’ll stop, just don’t… don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” You whisper, he cups your face and you can’t push him away, not when he slams his lips down on yours, and you’re kissing him back for just a moment, before thinking better of it, freezing your lips, pressing them in a terse line. He’s a breath away, leaning over you, taking over you completely.

But you can’t.

“Don’t you leave me. Please. You’re important to me.” He needs you, he needs you so badly, but he feels you slipping through his fingers, knowing he’s pushed you too far. “I’ll drop this. I’ll respect what you want.”

“Oh now you will? Instead of comforting me after watching that little baby…” You can’t even say it, you can’t even think of it, the images in your head making you devastated. “You know I’m emotional, you knew that and you said it was a good thing for a doctor, but because it’s not what you want in this situation you use it as what. A lesson? It’s no lesson, it was a baby!”

Satoru sighs now, shaking his head, covering his face, temples pounding as the blood rushes to his brain. “It was fucked up of me.”

“Yeah, it was.” You take a shaky breath, shaking your numb hands, pacing now, and Satoru watches you with his heart in his throat. “I can’t.”

“Don’t do this. I see what I did.”

“This isn’t good, any of it, me and you. What do we have? We had insane sex, I have feelings…”

Satoru blinks snowy lashes, droplets just nearing the tips of them, as his lower lip trembles, damn near ending your resolve. “You have-”

“Feelings that are too much. It’s too much, I can’t even focus on this internship, you consume me.” Satoru yanks you against his chest, his breath sweeping over your swollen lips, bitten to death from the stress of the day.

“You think you don’t consume me?” He whispers hoarsely, and you shake your head, earning his humorless laugh. “You’re wrong, so wrong, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t look at me that way, those eyes of yours, eyes that make me stupid.” You shove at his chest as those blue eyes take you over, snowy lashes lowered, a beautiful face that makes you ache.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” His voice breaks, and you feel it, his vulnerability, it makes your stomach flip, makes you almost sick.

“Why can’t you accept me, when I accept you?”

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you, I thought it’d be better if you want…”

“What you want.”

Satoru gulps now. “I’m selfish, I want you and only you, I wouldn’t want something else in our lives.”

“Our lives?” You laugh then. “There’s never an ‘our’. Not when you just want to fix everything you deem wrong with me.”

“I don’t want to ‘fix’ you. I’ll stop it. Just kiss me.”

“No.” He pauses a centimeter from your lips, exhaling. “I won’t kiss you anymore, I won’t let you say insane things in my ear while you fuck me, ‘only me ever’ what are you trying to do to me!?”

“I meant it.”

“No, let me go.” His hands drop, as he blinks back tears, and you’re a mess in front of him. “Satoru… I could have gotten over it for you. Wanting marriage, wanting serious shit, wanting kids. Don’t you know I’d give it all up for you, for a chance to be with you? But you trying to change me? That’s where I draw the line.”

You hate seeing him in tears, your beepers both go off then, and you step away, heading towards the door. Satoru’s hand stops you, over your little one, his voice desperate as he leans over you. “I was wrong, will you just forgive me?”

“You made me work with Shoko to hate babies. Then when it backfires, you say something like that?”

“I know. I know.” He hugs you from behind, burying his head against your neck, and you love the embrace, you love him.

But you also love yourself, and you can’t handle it anymore, the cold, cruel way he goes about things. The careless way he dismisses you and all of your feelings, the way he thinks only his way is right, that everyone should think as he does. You shake in his hold, everything pulling you to him.

“Do you hate me?” He whispers brokenly, and you shake your head, looking up at him now, his blue eyes glittering with tears.

“I could never. Far from it.”

“Then give me a chance to fix it.” His thumb brushes over your jaw, your precious face destroyed, your beeper goes off again and you take a breath.

“Let me go. We’ll talk later.”

You walk out, leaving him sobbing against the door, his head against it, fist landing on it, struggling to pull himself together. You’ve in just a couple months become the most important thing in the world to him, but you’re just… leaving him. And he can’t blame you, he’s confused you, he’s turned your life upside down, and he instead of comforting you…

He threw shit in your face.

Why couldn’t he just let you want kids? Well, because he can’t be a parent, and he can’t give you it, and he wants you, no he needs you. He needs you with him, only him, to feel your lips on his, your body against him. To see your little smile, to hear your moans and cries, to comfort you when you’re exhausted.

He should have comforted you, why did he need to do it like that? Why did he fuck everything up? The thoughts swarm in his head as he leans back in his chair now, covering his face with a hand, before he yanks open his drawer. He takes out the xanax and crushes it right on his desk, lining them up with a credit card he yanks now from his wallet.

He rolls up a hundred dollar bill and snorts it right up his nostril, it burns like a bitch, makes his eyes water, but he knows it will hit soon, he won’t give as many fucks, right? But after twenty minutes he’s taking another, and another, until he sees his shift is done, and he’s weakly walking towards the locker rooms, seeing you there changing, looking at your gorgeous frame.

Your eyes catch his then, you quickly look away, your eyes are puffy from the crying he’s made you do, when he slips off his shirt, head fuzzy. He stumbles just a bit, catching your concerned gaze. Which infuriates him then, he steadies himself and glares at you, slipping off his own shirt, noticing your gaze just grows more worried when he slips his top on.

“Satoru, what’s… are you okay?” You care about him? Why?

“Just peachy, sweets.” He gives you a fake smile, and your heart races, as you look up at eyes almost black, so dilated.

“Satoru are you-”

“Don’t ask shit about my life. You’re done, right?” His unexpectedly cruel words pierce your heart, you turn away, body shaking. “That’s what I thought.”

“Are you okay?” You ask again, turning back around, watching his lids lower just a bit as he leans over you, pressing you against the cool metal of the lockers.

“No, m’not okay. Girl of my fuckin’ dreams hates me.” You hear it, the slut of his words, as he takes a hand and cups your face. “Why do you gotta be so beautiful?”

“You’re fucked up.” You manage to breathe out, and he smirks then.

“Me? Nah. Maybe fucked up over you, intern. Haunt my every dream, now you’re gonna just leave?”

“Satoru…”

“You should know what you’re missing.” He kisses you again, desperate and messy, brutal and hungry, hands pulling you against his hard body. You whimper, hating your body’s reaction to him, how it lights up. “You want me, huh?”

“Of course I do. It’s you who can’t accept me.”

“I can… I can…” He kisses you again, one hand cupping you between your thighs over your leggings. “Always so hot f’me.”

“We won’t do it. I deserve better.”

“You do.” He presses a finger along your clit, moaning then. “Better, better… you do… lemme just take care of you, hmm?”

“Stop it, Toru. You’re not yourself right now.”

“This is me.” He kisses you again, as you press on his chest. “It’s all me, this is really me. Gonna run the other fuckin direction when you learn.”

“Ahem.” Suguru’s clearing of his throat does nothing to Satoru, who’s in a haze of lust, depression and xanax. “Satoru, back off.”

“She’s leaving me, Sugu, who doesn’t?”

“It’s not like that!” You hiss through your teeth.

“Satoru…”

“What?” He sways just a bit, Suguru’s frowning now as he looks at him.

“Really, Satoru?”

“What? Really what? I’m tired of everyone so fucking judgy.”

“Suguru take him home.” You whisper, and he nods then, but Satoru glares over at you.

“Why should he?” He demands. “I’m fine. I take more than I did for fucking breakfast.”

“You can’t have someone see you like this.” Your first worry is someone walking in, Satoru losing his career, every other hurt or worry is thrown into a back seat.

“M’perfect, baby. Should I show you?” He kisses you again, as you shove at him, glaring.

“You’re not perfect, maybe something’s hitting harder? You’re not okay.” He shakes his head, laughing now, eyes glinting.

“No I’m not okay, how can I be? When you’re leaving me.”

“I’m not, I just… I’m mad and I’m upset. Okay? Let me be. It doesn’t mean you have to… hurt yourself-”

“You hurt me existing.” He whispers, cupping your face again.

“Satoru, enough.” Suguru’s words resonate in Satoru’s brain, thank god. “Get your goddamn jacket and shoes on.” Satoru huffs and Suguru brushes your hair back as he finally lets you breathe, ever so gently, dark violet eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay, love?”

You nod quickly. “We just… have different views and he was hurtful, but I’m worried more than anything.” You whisper, looking at Satoru now, you’ve never, ever seen him like this. Your heart hurts for him.

“He’ll be fine, I’ve got it. You get home and get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Suguru.” He nods, and you shut your locker, when Satoru looks at you with devastated eyes, shattering your heart.

“I’m so sorry for what I did. Okay?” He whispers, taking your hands then, and you sigh, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Satoru I never put myself first, with my toxic exes. I let them run all over me. I have to take care of my heart this time.It’s not that I don’t feel it, I feel it. Just please, I have to put myself as a priority.” You touch his chest over his soft sweater, and he has two trails of tears falling from his cerulean eyes.

“Do you need time?”

“I need a minute to breathe, to think. We’ll talk more when you’re…”

“What, sober? Sweetheart I never am.” He whispers, right against your lips, Suguru puts a hand on his shoulder now.

“She’ll talk to you tomorrow. Right?”

“I will.” Satoru kisses your forehead, and you have to hold in every bit of you that wants to take him home yourself, that part screaming forgive him.

But even for Satoru Gojo, the man that’s taken over your heart, you have to protect yourself.

“Good night, then intern.” He murmurs, running the backs of his cool fingers across your overheated cheek.

“Good night Satoru, Suguru.” He gives you the smallest smile, when you leave Suguru exhales, covering his face.

“I fucked it all up, Sugu.” His voice is broken, and Suguru puts an arm around him now.

“How much did you take?”

“Four bars. Not OD level.”

“Thank god. Just… Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Soon you see Satoru and Suguru, as you climb up in your car, and you rest your head on the steering wheel, bawling your eyes out.

It feels so wrong not to be in his arms, not to kiss him, something that just started became so precious to you, so special. But what he did was nasty and hurtful, what he keeps doing, trying to make you change like this, you know you’ve done the right thing. But you also know you’re in love with him, with a beautiful, brilliant and broken man, and you won’t be able to let him go fully.

*****

The next morning Satoru is there bright and early, sipping on coffee in the cafeteria as you walk in, faltering. Remembering so vividly being pressed against those lockers, those eyes that were black almost are now a calm storm of blue, as he looks at you over his hot cup, steam fogging up around his face. You just stand there, because you’re exhausted, you’re hurt.

You want to be with him more than anything, you wanted to go on that damn date with him, wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You want to just forgive him so easily, to fall into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo, to feel those plush lips on yours, to have those eyes devour you. Feel those long fingers that are currently curling around that styrofoam cup, touching your cheek.

You both stand there, until you clear your throat, smiling just a little, a sad smile that makes Satoru feel like shit. He knows how bad he’s hurt you, he’s had all morning to think about it, about how fragile you were, so vulnerable, coming to him to feel better, and what did he do instead? Make you leave him, devastate you, and all he can think of is how to put a real smile on your face again.

“Morning, Dr. Gojo.” You say softly, eyes lowering, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks.

“Good morning, intern.” He says, his voice isn’t the bright and goofy one you’re used to, or the husky sultry one for you, or even the flirtatious one. It’s a soft voice, unsure, just like you.

You grab your coffee now, your shoulder brushing his, just that contact alone makes you ache, the pain in your heart so brutal you feel emotions starting to come in waves. There is so much left unsaid as you both walk out past the packed waiting room, heading over to the elevator, Satoru presses the button, and you stand next to him, feeling the pull, it’s just stronger today.

“I’m…” Satoru clears his throat, looking down at you now, your breath catches. “I’m really sorry that I pushed it. I understand we’re over, but I need to tell you.”

You look up at, swallowing nervously, the backs of his hand brushing against yours, and yours gently brushes back, sending shivers down his spine. “I forgive you, I do. It’s just… we’re too different.”

Satoru turns toward you, leaning down low, free hand cupping your face. “Too different?”

You nod, feeling the tears burning your eyes. “We are, Satoru, so different, and that’s okay. But I think we both know it won’t work.”

“Yeah, you think so?” His words are hoarse, his gaze tearing through your every barrier, a sad, lost gaze.

“I do. Maybe you were happier before, a Hojo and all.” You smile sadly, looking down at his perfect lips. “I hope we can be friends, when you go back to collecting those infinity stones.”

Satoru presses the stop on the elevator then, making you gasp, pulling you by your waist against him, so close you taste that sweet mocha on his breath. “You can leave me, I get it, but don’t think for one minute you’re not all I want. Don’t think I’m giving up on this.”

You can’t speak, not when he’s so close, not when the words he’s saying are ruining you, that you’re melting for him, as your own free hand slides up his chest. “You’re not?”

“How could I? It’s you.” Satoru exhales against you, almost brushing his lips on yours, before pulling back, starting the elevator. “Want that goddamn date with you. I’ll do anything I can to earn it.”

“Satoru…” He walks off when the elevator opens, leaving you to lean against the rail, head pressed against the wall, you’re not sure what floor you’re going to, you just know he’s got you too far gone to leave just now.

He’s not giving up on you, and you don’t want him to give up, either. But with so much between you left unsaid, you have no clue what any of it means. When you’re finally where you need to be, after several elevator rides of pulling yourself together, Satoru checks his rolex, peering at you.

“You’re late, intern.” His voice is calm, professional.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You manage hoarself, as Toge, Yuuta and Maki look at you, concern in their gazes, as they of all people truly knew what a mess you were last night after you got home.

“Don’t let it be a habit.” Gojo says, trying to be stern but it’s failing, it’s just a soft little order, one you nod at. “Wanna work with Shoko or do the pit with me?”

You’re surprised then, blinking a bit. “The pit, if I can please.”

He gives just the smallest little smile. “Then you’re on it. Maki, your week with Shoko.”

“Babies, yuck.” She shivers and Satoru smiles just a bit bigger, as Yuuta snorts in laughter.

Satoru surely feels the same as Maki, but you?

Satoru knows you are yourself, uniquely so. He now knows you were going to sacrifice it all for him, and he didn’t deserve you, not one bit, you deserve more, everything. But he’s so selfish, he wants you back, and he knows he’ll do anything for it, to have you back in his embrace, which feels so empty.

When you’re both alone in his office later, while going over a patient, he keeps his distance as much as he can. Satoru wants to respect this, your wishes, but his hands long to touch you, even those casual teasing brushes you all shared had meant so much to him.

“Present your case, intern.” He says then, leaning on his desk, you feel this distance he is keeping, and it breaks you, but you pull it together, this is your decision right?

“We had a patient with hours of stomach pain last night, ultrasound found gallstones, which should be what occurred, and ordered an EKG to rule out any potential signs of heart attack.”

“Perfect.”

“Patient is in his late fifties, mild drinker, smoker, but otherwise healthy, a little overweight. He likes tacos, he said.” You smile just a bit at it.

“Well who doesn’t? And EKG results?”

“Everything came back normal.”

“So what’s the best course of action?”

“The stones are small, but there are a few. I would suggest a laparoscopic cholecystectomy first, aside from gallbladder removal. That, and a lower fat diet, along with no alcohol should have him just right.” Satoru smiles at you, fuck you make him proud, holding yourself high.

“Exactly right, do you want to assist?”

You blink in surprise, you weren’t sure after everything, but Satoru is clearly not holding any of this against you. “If you would let me, of course, Sir.”

Sir.

Should be calling him that in the bedroom, he thinks, how pretty you’d be on your knees, begging for his cock in your mouth. The images are so lewd and it takes him everything to keep it together. He smiles though, sitting down and taking one of his klonopin right in front of you. You look away nervously, biting your lip.

“You should know all of me. You should know you were smart to leave.” He takes one and chews it up, feeling the sweetness hit his tongue.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You whisper, coming to him then, he pulls you between his thighs now, and you cup his face. “I didn’t judge you.”

“I know you didn’t, I know.” His eyes shut, he turns and kisses your palm so sweetly. “I won’t have anyone else, it’s just you.”

“Satoru it’s insane to say it, when you…”

“I know. I know it is.” He pulls you down, to where you’re leaned over him, one leg over his chair, your hands gripping the arms of his seat. His hands slip over your waist, right over your scrubs. “I’ll do anything to make it right.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you, fuck you? Suck you right here?” Satoru moans, hand pulling at your hair at the nape of your neck, little networks of goosebumps pricking up, your body reacting in every way, nipples pressed against your bra, desiring his touches.

“Think I don’t want you wrapped on this cock?” His seductive whisper has your hips shifting, a movement he notices avidly.

“You can have anyone, Satoru.”

“I only want you. I’ll have to show you. But will you let me try?” He asks, emotional now as the overwhelming feelings hit.

“I don’t want to be changed for you, I don’t want to give up who I am.” He sighs now, nodding, sad look on his beautiful face.

“I won’t change you. But sweetheart, you are changing me.”

“Bad or good, Satoru?” Your whisper damn near ends him, is it bad or good, this obsession with you? You’re good, but is he?

“I want it to be good. I don’t want to make you cry again, break you down, terrify you.”

You ease in his hold, a hold you never want to leave, but you try to think rationally, despite the overwhelming pull of him, despite the ache to press yourself fully against him, to let him take your pain away. “Then let’s… take time.”

He nods, brushing a thumb on your lower lip, just a little glossy from your chapstick, he can almost taste it, vanilla sugar. He’s caressing your face ever so softly. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, before pulling yourself off him, sighing.

“Time, huh?” Any time without you in his arms makes him sick, but when you nod he kisses your forehead, so sweetly you want to fall against him, fall into him. “I’l give it, don’t even deserve this right now.”

“I still feel it all for you.” You say, before you pull away, making his heart race. “Don’t hurt yourself over this, please. It’s not… I still…”

“Don’t worry about me, sweets. I’m fine.” His sad smile doesn’t reassure you anymore than he’s pretending it to be true. “Now, go get ready to put him on the board, yeah?”

“Yes Dr. Gojo.” You give him another worried little smile, leaving Satoru to cover his face in his hands.

No amount of a benzodiazepine lessens the need for you.

Your back is against the door, breaths coming quickly, leaning your head back and just longing to be with the man inside, the broken man that has your heart. You know it will never heal without him, no it needed him to heal, you want to stand so firm but your heart and soul know you belong to him, even if for now, you both don’t know it’s true.

You put on a brave smile, and set about your day. You could do this, right? Be without him? You were fine your whole life before you even knew Satoru. Surely… but then why then every time you formally speak to him, do you wish your lips could crash on his?

The day is hectic, even more hectic than usual, you’re running on nothing again, and when you’re finally done, and you’re heading to your car, you can hardly hold your eyes open. Satoru’s next to you suddenly, hands on your shoulders, you yawn as he looks down at you, you’re so curious how he got here.

“You’re too tired to drive, intern.”

You look at him, squinting just a bit in the dark night, the wind softly blowing back your sweater and making his snowy hair sway. “Are you fucked up?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Normal meds. I wouldn’t hurt you. Intentionally, aside from being an ass. I’ll take you home, Maki can bring you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, thank you Satoru.” Soon you’re driving in his car, his hand keeps wanting to rest on your thigh, but he stops himself. He’s running on nothing himself at this point, he’s exhausted, and all he can think of is what it’d be like to hold you against him tonight.

The longing for you, for any of you destroys him, the only sound is his car gently moving through the snow, the windshield wipers going as you keep stealing glances at him, so tired your eyes are heavy. All you can think of is holding him, falling into that bliss, god imagine, snuggling with him again, waking up with his kisses.

But you don’t know him, truly, and how will you, when you’re running from him? Even if it is the best thing for you, it doesn’t make it easier, not when you study his perfect profile in the night. Not when he glances your way for just a moment, that hand hovering right next to your thigh, like he’s fighting it too.

Soon you’re home, the heat of his car mixed with how tired you are makes it almost impossible to leave. Satoru leans over, unseatbelted you, and himself, a hand finally gently over your thigh. It burns through your warm, plush leggings, like a brand on your skin, his other hand brushing your hair back ever so softly, as he opens his mouth, then closes it.

It’s quiet in the car, your breaths and the low purr of the car filling the air, along with the wind outside and the gently falling flakes. “I will do everything I can to get you back, I won’t give up. I’m too fucking selfish.”

You smile, so sleepy, caressing his perfect face. “Satoru, you’re amazing, brilliant, great at so much, but you have to learn, you can’t just fix people, you have to accept them.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just…” He swallows, resting his head on yours, and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel his mouth take you over, he is your drug.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. What I did, it was not okay. I talked to Sugu a long time last night, blitzed the fuck out. What I did was horrible, you needed me to comfort you, and I made it all worse.”

“Yeah. You did.” He exhales, smirking just a bit.

“You’re brutally honest.”

“You like that, I think.” You lean your chin up, noses brushing, lips just that bit apart, killing you both.

“I love it, I love that you have your convictions, your emotions, I love so fucking much about you. I know I didn’t show that.”

“No, you didn’t. But… Thank you for that.” You pull back a bit, taking a breath. “I don’t trust myself around you, I’ll falter, I’ll give in. And Satoru I have to…”

“You have to be a priority.”

“That, I’ve never been.” Your phone starts going off again, you check it and frown, making Satoru curious, but he knows he shouldn’t pry. “Case in point, my other stupid ex.”

He glares at your phone, then looks up at you, softer, concern in his gaze, mixed with self loathing. “You have bad taste.”

“Satoru, not you. There’s so much good here.” You put a gentle brush of your lips on his now, easing back as his eyelids lower, as his grip slips higher. “I want to fall into this, into you. You’re my own Xanax.”

“I’m that good?” He smirks, and you laugh softly. “You still haven’t even asked, why I’m on it all.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head, enjoying the heat of his hard body against yours too much. “It’s not my place right now. I should go.”

“Yeah…” Please don’t go, please.

Something pauses you, and you hug him then, he hugs you back tightly, and you kiss him once more, exhaling against his lips. “Don’t give up on it.”

“I sure fucking won’t. I win at everything you know.” You snort at that, a smile brightening your beautiful face, making him melt for you.

“We’ll see about it. Take care, Satoru, please drive safely in this?”

“I will. You get some sleep.” He wishes he could come inside, in your warm, cozy home, and hold you, but he knows he can’t.

Yet.

Satoru won’t give up.

You wave at him before you get inside, the overwhelming, exhausting past week eating you alive, and you’re stumbling when Toge sees you. He walks up quickly, concern clear in his violet eyes, hands on your shoulders. “Okay?”

You break then, shaking your head and sniffling. “No, m’not, Toge.”

Toge holds you then, as you sob against him, and soon Maki and Yuuta are out there too, all rubbing your back, your hair, as you can’t stop crying. It’s too much, not being with him, the hurt he caused, the fears you have. The past days, losing that little baby, losing so many, losing your fucking mind.

“I’m so tired, you guys, of all of it.” You barely speak, barely hold it together, as they all gently speak.

“No, you got this baby, I swear. If it’s not Gojo. if he’s not the one for you, guess what? You’ll be okay, we’re here for you, either way.” Maki says softly, and you nod, sniffling now.

“You have to do what’s best for you, don’t feel guilty.” Yuuta says, and Toge’s giving you the saddest look of all.

“Hurting.” You nod quickly, hugging him again.

“Don’t you run from me, please.” You say softly, as he strokes your back. “I need you all.”

“Not running.” He assures you, with a sweet smile, and you feel so at home with them, but something’s missing.

Satoru is missing.

How has he become everything so quickly?

But soon Maki is getting you a glass of wine, and Toge has cookies for everyone, Yuuta is putting on your favorite movie. And as you’re cuddled with your best friends on your old couch, so comfy and worn in, it almost feels perfect. You’re blessed to have them, warm with the fire going, while the snow falls outside. But you can’t help but look out the window.

“I love him, fuck.” You whisper softly.

“We know.” Maki says, you snuggle back up to her, curling up and letting her rub your hair.

“I love you three so much. Don’t leave me, even if I’m a mess.”

“We’re not going anywhere. Shh, just relax.”

Sleep doesn’t hit for Satoru that night, not when he stares at your number over and over with your picture in his phone, not when he thinks of the date he had ready on that fairy boat for you, not when he thinks of you in his home. He stares at that damn piano, remembering kissing you on that bench.

But he was selfish, he was pushy, he ruined such a beautiful thing before it began.

Satoru knows now, he needs you, like he needs to breathe, and he knows by looking in your eyes, you feel it, though you’re now terrified. He was so afraid of pushing you away, that he did just that. As he sips down a whiskey and pops a seroquel, he hopes it will take him to sleep soon, blissful dreamless sleep where he won’t have to feel this pain.

Satoru looks out the window, watching the snowfall and wondering if you’re okay, before the sleeping meds take him out. But it doesn’t prevent those dreams, it only makes them more vivid, and he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, panicking. He calls you, knowing you won’t answer, but he hears it.

A sleepy ‘hmm?’

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Shh. Satoru… s’okay… shhh…”

He lets tears fall as he sets the phone on speaker. “Will you… let me hear you breathe? So I can sleep?”

“Hmm, you’re weird Doc.” He snorts through his tears, and you sleepily wonder if this is a dream on your end. “But mkay.”

He soon hears your steady breathing, and he finally can sleep, mind whirling with ways he can earn you, while you listen to his little sigh, hand gripping the phone, picturing him in your mind’s eyes. “Night, beautiful.”

“Night S’toru.”

Two hearts are alone but still connected, as both wonder what the exhaustion of tomorrow would hold, and beyond the doubt, they hope.

I know this was an angsty/darker chapter, but it will get more lighthearted and will have a happy ending, but we gotta go through some rough stuff to get there (Satoru won't be a Hojo again dw lol)

Taglist: @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @miizuzu @nanasukii28 @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @moncher-ire @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @nanasukii28 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @jjknanamin @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @san-it-is-i-guess @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @n1vi Perma tags: @alt--er--love @cuntphoric @loafteaw @indiewritesxoxo @harutahake @jinjen

#doctor satoru #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #satoru x reader #doctor gojo #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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keeryhours · 18 hours ago

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coming home to you - sam (warfare)

Sam (Warfare) x female! wife! reader

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Summary:

Sam is heartbroken to leave his pregnant wife home when he’s deployed - but he doesn’t expect things to go quite so wrong.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving), movie spoilers, pregnancy, war, gore!, death, serious injuries

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N:

I’m really excited to write my first Sam fic! I hope you guys like it. If details are wrong, I’m so sorry, I know nothing about the navy but I did rewatch the movie and research as best as I could. His last name is O’Brien in this. Endless thanks to @glassbxttless and @peachyproserpina for answering a million questions, reading over this, and hyping me up, and @getaapologist for feeding us with screenshots!! Also ignore that I hit the image limit so the dividers stop :))

The night before Sam shipped out, he spent it in bed with you, holding you close. You couldn’t let go of him, scared it would be the last time you ever held him. He held you just as tightly, his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing your back, breathing in the smell of your soap and shampoo and committing it to memory.

As you drifted off to sleep, head rested on Sam’s shirtless chest, he lay awake. Thinking. He wanted to savor every moment he had with you, even if it meant he slept the whole flight tomorrow. His hand drifted down to press against your stomach, still as it always was. You were days from the positive pregnancy test, barely 6 weeks. Still so new, still made Sam’s heart beat wildly in his chest when he thought too hard about it. Especially when he thought about how he wouldn’t be there for the birth, or even the beginning of their life.

He knew that, god willing, he’d be coming home to a son or daughter, already a year old. A child who would be too young to understand, who he would be a stranger to. That scared the shit out of him, even more than going overseas. He didn’t know the first thing about being a father. His own father was fine, a little strict, but being a father himself was something else entirely. There was no preparing for it, and he would be thrown right into it when he returned.

You still hadn’t told anyone yet. When you came running to Sam, tears in your eyes and a positive pregnancy test in your hand, Tommy and Erik had been the first people Sam wanted to call. He was ecstatic, although terrified, and wanted to share the news with his brothers right away. But you stopped him, a huge smile on your face and your hand on his chest.

“Not yet,” you’d said, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath your palm. “Let’s keep this our little secret just a little bit longer.”

It had been hard for Sam to keep his mouth shut, but he enjoyed having that private thing to share between you. When you were around the guys, he felt so giddy, like it could spill out at any moment. When you’d decline a beer, you’d meet eyes for only a moment, a huge smile on Sam’s face.

But now it was time to leave, and the reality was setting in. His stomach was in knots. He’d never been so nervous to ship off, not even his first time. He didn’t want to miss any of this. He wanted to see your belly grow, to go to doctors appointments, to hold your hand when your baby was born. He wouldn’t get any of that. He had always been sad to leave you for tours, but this was worse. Now he was leaving two people he loved more than anything.

He couldn’t remember when he finally fell asleep. But the next thing he knew, his alarm was going off, and he startled awake. The sun had barely risen, the sky barely turning blue through the bedroom window. You were still tangled up around him, sleeping soundly. He carefully, reluctantly, untangled your limbs from around his own and lifted himself from the bed, the springs creaking slightly. He turned back in time to see you snuggling into his pillow, holding it much like you’d held him.

He dressed in his uniform, grabbing his bag that had already been packed. He slung the heavy pack over his shoulders, looking back at you sleeping peacefully in your shared bed. He walked over, smoothing his hand over your hair. You stirred slightly but remained asleep. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely awake. “Leaving?” you asked, your voice still weak with sleep.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, baby. I’ve gotta go.”

You frowned, sitting up in the bed and wiping at your eyes. “Okay,” you croaked. You placed your hands on either side of his face, pulling him in for a long, passionate kiss. He returned it, the kiss stirring something in his chest that he had to push away for now. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “So much.” He rubbed a hand over your abdomen. “Both of you. Take care of yourselves. I’ll write you every week.”

“I know you will.” You kissed him again, shorter this time. “Bye, Sammy.”

He grinned at the nickname. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You laid back down, falling back into your slumber quickly. Sam stood, walking towards the bedroom door. He stopped by the dresser. He looked down at his hands, smoothing his thumb over his gold wedding band. Then he reluctantly slipped it off his finger, laying it gently on the table next to your jewelry. He knew it would be waiting right there for him when he got back.

He took one last look at you, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and kiss you breathless. But instead he opened the door, heading out into the rest of the house before slipping out the front door and locking it behind him, leaving you alone.

You wrote to Sam every week. Every letter included a whole breakdown from your pregnancy books, the fruit size comparison and a breakdown of how you’d been feeling, what the doctor had said, ultrasound photos and bump pictures you took in the mirror. Sometimes a private photo just for Sam’s eyes, ones he’d hide in his belongings and pull out only when he was alone. It was what kept him going.

Waiting to go home to you felt like a lifetime, although he kept busy with OP1. He felt a lump in his throat every time he pulled out a photo to see you having grown bigger. He felt like he was missing the most important event of his life.

He was sitting in the barracks, laughing with Erik, Tommy, and Elliott, when the mail was brought in for the week. He sat up straighter, eyeing the bag of mail as it was distributed, impatiently waiting his turn.

“Excited to hear from your girl, O’Brien?” Elliott teased, sly grin on his face. “Let me know if she sent any good photos this time.”

Sam shoved his friend hard in the shoulder, but they both laughed. He knew those photos were for his eyes only, anyway, although the guys liked to tease him about his hot wife back home. He knew his wife was hot, but still.

When Sam was handed his mail, he found the one with your name on it and immediately tore into it. He pulled out the letter and watched as a couple photos fell out, landing facedown on the table. He would look at those after.

He immediately began reading the letter, his heart thudding faster when he saw the “20 weeks” scribbled at the top in your handwriting. He knew what that meant. You had been talking about how excited you were for this appointment in your letters for weeks. This was it.

He read your letter, talking about how things had been on the base with the other wives, how you’d been feeling, what you’d been up to. Baby the size of a mango. How your mom had come for a visit and drove you crazy for a week. He loved hearing all the mundane things happening back home, but his heart was thudding in anticipation for the news he was waiting for.

The letter ended with your usual - Hope you enjoy the pictures! All my love. - and your name signed in swirling script. His gaze dropped down to the photos. One was very clearly an ultrasound photo - he was familiar with them by now. He reached for the other first.

One of you in the mirror like you sent every week. You had really popped, he thought as his eyes widened. Your belly was perfectly rounded, your hand resting at the bottom as you posed for the photo in the mirror that hung on the back of your closet door. You had a bright smile on your face. You looked beautiful.

His eyes dropped down to the upside down ultrasound photo. He reached for it slowly, as if he were scared. He lifted it with a shaking hand, then finally, finally turned it over.

He had yet to see an ultrasound where the baby looked so much like a baby. It nearly took his breath away - and that was before he noticed the writing typed onto the photo.

It’s a girl!

“Holy fuck,” Sam muttered, in total disbelief. “Holy shit!”

“What?” Erik asked, looking over at Sam’s shocked yet elated expression.

Sam looked up, seeing the whole room of his brothers looking at him. “It’s a girl,” he said. “It’s a girl!”

The whole room erupted into cheers, patting him on the back and congratulating him, pushing him around playfully and making comments about how he’d have his work cut out for him as he smiled bigger than he had since he’d left home. He couldn’t believe it. He was having a daughter.

As your pregnancy progressed towards the end, Sam grew weary. He missed you. Seeing the photos you sent made him long for you like he never had before. He wanted to take care of you - something about seeing you pregnant made him extra protective, and here he was, overseas and only able to communicate with you through letters. He longed to feel the baby kick, to help you set up the nursery, to tell you to go sit down and rest while he took care of things.

As you reached the last couple weeks, his anxiety was at an all time high. He was on a mission from weeks 35-38, and every day he worried the baby would come and he wouldn’t know. So when they returned to the base and he caught up on your letters, seeing the babe was still safely growing, he felt immense relief.

It was a week after they had returned when he got a letter that was thicker than usual. His chest tightened - he knew before he even opened it. He stared at the unopened letter, frozen and face pale.

“What’s wrong, man?” Erik had asked, but then he looked at the letter the other man’s eyes were locked onto. His eyebrows raised. “Is that-?”

“I think so,” Sam muttered.

“Well, open it!” Elliott said, the guys all crowding around, waiting to see.

With the courage of his brothers surrounding him, he ripped open the letter. He pulled out the letter itself and a large stack of photos - the one on top featuring the most beautiful baby he had ever seen.

A birth announcement. A newborn baby girl laid wrapped in a blanket, her eyes closed, a head full of brown hair. She had your nose and lips, Sam’s hair and eye shape. He swore his heart stopped beating. At the bottom - Olivia Claire O’Brien. The name you had decided on after a long back and forth in letters, the name that somehow fit her so well.

Sam stared at the photo in shock, barely able to hear the cheers and commotion around him. He couldn’t believe it. He had a daughter waiting for him back home now - a real, living, breathing daughter. His daughter.

“She’s beautiful, man,” Tommy said, flashing a genuine smile as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. Sam somehow pulled himself together, muttering a bashful thank you to his brothers.

“Congrats dude,” Elliott contributed, rubbing the top of Sam’s bald head.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Erik said, and that made him feel better than anything he’d ever heard. Now, he just had to get through the rest of this tour so he could get home to his girls.

It was supposed to be a standard surveillance mission.

Things had never gone so horribly wrong.

Elliott had gotten hit by shrapnel from a grenade, and he needed a CASEVAC. They were supposed to just escort him out to the tank then get back into the house - but an IED had gone off.

Sam had woken up disoriented, his head pounding, ears ringing. He didn’t know what the fuck had happened. Then, the pain crept in. He looked down and saw his right leg twisted the wrong direction, small fires burning his pants and skin.

“Oh my god,” he said, his voice trembling. “Oh my god, fuck! Fuck! Oh my god!”

He didn’t know what the fuck had happened but the next thing he knew Erik was stumbling over, patting his leg to put out the flames. “Ow, ow, ow,” he said, still coming back to himself, nausea and fear roiling in his stomach.

He looked over to his left, seeing a body completely blown in half. Panic rose in his chest, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Erik began dragging Sam back into the house - and that’s when the pain became the worst thing he could possibly imagine. He screamed, a loud, guttural scream of terror and pain and pure misery. He felt like his leg was still on fire, like it was going to rip right off.

Erik pulled him into the house, laying him on the ground. Sam was relieved to not be moving anymore, but once the pain had kicked in, it didn’t stop. He groaned loudly, moaning in pain, desperate for some kind of relief. He barely noticed Ray and Tommy pulling an unconscious Elliott into the house behind him.

“Two rooms deep!” somebody yelled, and then he was being dragged again, screaming. When he stopped moving he unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off, tossing it to the side. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Ray began checking him over. They rolled Sam onto his side as he gritted his teeth, still moaning in pain. It felt better being back on his back, but not by much. Ray grabbed a pack of gauze and stuffed it into the wound in Sam’s leg, and again - he screamed. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. He thought he was going to be sick.

Sam heard Ray speaking into the radio. “We have two severely wounded. We need another CASEVAC as soon as possible. Be advised an IED caused the injuries, over.”

Even more panic rose in Sam’s body. He wasn’t sure he heard Ray right, until he related it into the radio again “We have two severely wounded. We need another CASEVAC.”

“Who’s the severely wounded?” Sam asked, grabbing onto Ray’s arm. “Is it me?”

“No, it’s not you,” Ray lied, trying to calm his friend. “It’s not you.”

“Then who is it??” Sam asked, getting more worked up by the minute. “Who is it?? Who the fuck is it? Who is it?”

“You’re okay, calm down,” Ray said. “You just think about that beautiful baby girl, okay? And that hot wife of yours, remember? They’re waiting for you. They need you, okay? You’re gonna get home to them, okay?”

Sam took in his words, his mind flipping through images of you, of his daughter. “Okay,” he said, calming the slightest bit. “O-okay.”

Ray reached into the front pocket of Sam’s uniform. His brothers knew what he kept there. He pulled out the photo of you holding Olivia, and pressed it into Sam’s shaking, bloody hand. “You’re going to see them soon, okay? You focus on them. That’s what fucking matters.”

Sam nodded, taking the photo and holding it where he could see it. He had smeared blood onto it, dust now coated it and made it slightly harder to see, but it was you. It was you and it was Livvy and that’s what he focused on, trying to push the pain out of his mind with thoughts of coming home to you both.

You sat in Sam’s recliner in the living room, rocking a sleeping Olivia in your arms. She was 6 weeks old now and had been fussier than usual. It was hard to take care of her without any help, but you loved it. You loved her. And you knew Sam would, too. Hell, he hadn’t even met her yet and he was already obsessed with her.

You rocked gently as you watched TV with the volume on low. You were barely paying any attention, your eyes heavy. You’d been running on little sleep. Erik’s wife and your best friend, Viv, had been by nearly every day to help. She loved the baby time and you loved the cherished rest it afforded you.

The large framed wedding photo on the wall caught your eye. It had been the happiest day of your life - tied with the day Livvy had been born. Sam wore his dress uniform, looking handsome as ever. You wore a gorgeous white dress with long lace sleeves. In the photo you clutched onto his arm, a smile taking over your entire face. Sam looked equally elated. Surrounding the large portrait were smaller photos, the both of you with your families and your wedding party.

The sound of the phone ringing brought you out of your reminiscing. You grabbed it quickly, hitting the answer button before it had time to wake Olivia. She stirred, but remained asleep.

“Hello?” you answered, keeping your voice quiet.

“Mrs. O’Brien?”

You froze. Panic crept beneath your skin. “Yes?”

The man over the line introduced himself. “I’m a Casualty Assistance Calls Officer.”

Your blood ran cold. Casualty? Oh god. Oh god. You felt as if you might be sick. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder and stood, walking to the other side of the room and laying Olivia in a bassinet. “Is- is Sam-“

“Petty Officer O’Brien was injured in combat,” the man said. That’s when your knees gave out, your body dropping back down into the chair. “He was involved in an IED explosion. He sustained serious injuries to both legs. He’s currently receiving treatment on base, but will be shipping home in the next few weeks.”

Sam was hurt. But he was alive, you thought as relief rushed through you. He was alive and he was coming home. But how would this change his life?

The officer gave you little more information, but promised to be in touch with updates regularly. You asked if you could speak with him, but were told he was heavily medicated for the time being. When you hung up the phone, you felt as if your entire world had been tipped on its axis. Everything felt shifted, like nothing would be the same.

You wanted nothing more than to run to him, to be by his side. But you were helpless to do anything but sit and wait.

Sam was out of it for a while. He had life saving surgeries overseas before he was finally sent back home to continue care and rest in his own bed, his own house, with his family.

His family.

All he could think about on the flight home was seeing you again, and meeting Livvy. If he was honest with himself, he was terrified. Being a dad was a new kind of challenge, one he didn’t know if he was prepared for. What if he fucked it up? What if he couldn’t be a good dad because of his injuries? What if he couldn’t run and play with his daughter?

His legs ached as he sat through the hours long flight. He took some of his pain medication, which helped a bit and allowed him to get a little sleep. He rested his head against the window, watching the clouds pass by until the pain waned and he drifted off.

The plane touching down woke him from his slumber, jolting him awake. He looked around, recognizing the base. He was back home in Coronado. He felt a weight off his chest.

That anxiety came back when he was helped off the plane and into his wheelchair. He hated it. He always hated feeling weak, and now he physically was. He knew it wasn’t his fault, and the doctors promised he would regain the ability to walk eventually. It was just going to be a long journey.

He was pushed away from the plane and through the base, his stomach churning. This was it. He fidgeted with the material of his pants as he looked everywhere for you.

Then - there you were.

You spotted each other at the same time. Erik’s wife, Viv, stood next to you, and in your arms was the most beautiful little girl he’d ever seen. You held her at your side, your hand against her back for support. You handed her to Viv and then you were running.

As you got closer, Sam could see the massive smile on your face, the tears brimming in your eyes. He reached out for you, a matching smile on his own lips. You pulled him into an embrace as you reached him and he held you back just as tightly, laughing in relief that he was home, he was here, he was holding you.

You pulled back slightly before pressing your lips to his. God, it had been over a year since he’d kissed anyone, over a year since he’d even seen a pretty girl in person. He wanted so badly to pull you onto his lap and kiss you deeper.

You pulled back and held your hands on either side of his face, as if you weren’t convinced he was real. He felt the same way about you, his hands gripping onto your waist. You looked even more beautiful than when he’d left, if that was possible. There was a kind of motherly glow about you that made his heart beat wildly.

“You’re here,” you said, still smiling as a few tears escaped, and he laughed.

“I’m here, baby,” he said. He pulled you down for another quick kiss, and then his eyes were drawn behind you.

You turned to see Viv holding a fussing Olivia, then faced Sam again. “Want to meet your daughter?”

His mouth went dry - but yes, he wanted that more than anything. You stepped behind his wheelchair and pushed him over. As he got closer, he could see the little girl better. She looked like the perfect mix between the two of you. She was perfect.

“Hey, Sammy,” Viv greeted with a smile as you stopped his chair. Sam greeted her back, but he was barely paying attention. You were taking Livvy from her arms, and then you were gently setting the baby in Sam’s arms.

“Livvy,” you cooed to the baby. “This is your daddy.”

Olivia looked at him curiously. Seeing her so close, being able to hold her and touch her, took Sam’s breath away. “Hi, baby girl,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her chubby cheek, then pulled her close and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

Livvy smiled at him, reaching for his nose. Sam laughed, pure joy coursing through his veins. He pulled her in for a hug, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she was content to just be held by her dad. Viv snapped pictures in the background, but he hardly noticed.

He had his family back.

—

Sam spent the day playing with Livvy as well as he could. She adored him already, clinging to him and laughing so hard every time he’d make a funny face or play peekaboo. Sam was overjoyed. He had never felt so content.

That night, you rocked Livvy to sleep in the recliner while Sam watched, a warm smile on his face. When she was out, you carried her gently to the nursery and laid her down. She didn’t wake, just rolled onto her side and settled.

You walked out into the living room. Sam sat on the couch, his wheelchair against the wall. The TV played some cable movie with the volume on low, but he wasn’t paying much attention.

He was watching you. You walked over with a playful smile, your little sleep shorts hanging low on your hips. Sam licked his lips - god, it had been so long since he’d seen you in person, so long since he’d been able to touch your body. He reached for you and you went to him.

His hands found purchase on your hips, thumbs rubbing the exposed skin between your shorts and shirt. His breath caught in his throat. All the blood in his body rushed down south, like he was a teenager and this was his first time touching a girl.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbled. He pulled you closer, and you leaned down and kissed him.

“I wanna take care of you,” you whispered. “Can I?”

Could you? Hell fucking yes.

Sam nodded, nipping at your bottom lip one more time before he watched you sink down to your knees in front of him. His cock was filling out his sweatpants, so eager for you to touch him he could hardly stand it.

You eyed the outline of his cock through his grey sweats, mouth watering, core aching as you thought about having him inside you again. It had been so long.

You reached for his waistband and gently pulled them down. His already hard cock sprung free, tip red and leaking in anticipation. “Baby…” he muttered, his pupils blown as he watched you between his legs.

You could see the scars on his thighs, making your heart ache, but you turned your attention back to where he needed you most. He threaded his fingers through your hair as you wrapped a hand around his shaft, making him hiss.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his cock throbbing in your grip.

You moved forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, tongue teasing over his slit. He groaned, head dropping back against the back of the couch.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned. “It’s been too fuckin’ long. Need you so bad…need your mouth.”

You couldn’t resist his pleads. You took more of him into your mouth, tongue tracing the vein on the underside as you took him down your throat. Sam’s grip tightened in your hair, another low groan spilling from his lips. You set a slow pace, letting him savor the feeling of your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck yeah,” he breathed. His free hand grabbed onto the couch cushion. “So good, baby. Feels so good.”

You hummed around his dick, which drove him crazy. He was panting above you, barely able to hold on. He’d been dreaming of this, especially when you’d send those photos that were for his eyes only. If only he could see more of you.

He watched the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way you’d look up at him through your long eyelashes, looking so innocent despite what you were doing to him. He bucked his hips up as much as he could without hurting himself, wishing he could fuck your face like you sometimes let him do. Fuck, he loved that.

You gently cupped his balls, massaging them in your hand as his cock twitched in your mouth. He was breathing heavier now, his legs starting to shake. His hold on you was a little rougher, his moans a little more desperate. You knew he was close.

“G’na cum,” he groaned. “I’m so close.”

You lifted off of him, working his shaft with your hand instead. “Where do you wanna cum, baby?”

“On your face and tits,” he answered quickly, his voice strained. “Please. Please.”

You stopped long enough to pull your sleep shirt over your head, revealing your bare tits to him, the cold air making your nipples harden in the dim light of the living room. His cock twitched again and then he was moaning as you wrapped your mouth around him once more.

You sucked him off, taking him all the way to the back of your throat. He was losing his mind above you. When he started throbbing against your tongue, his moans getting a little higher, thighs and hands trembling, you knew he was right there. You pulled off of him once more, jerking him off quickly while you looked up at him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck,” he moaned. “Gonna…oh shit-“

He let out a choked moan as he came, his cum spurting onto your face and chest, covering you in his spend. He watched with wide eyes, thinking he had never seen anything hotter in his life. You looked perfect like this.

When he had finished, he sat there breathing heavily while you cleaned yourself up with some tissues. You smiled at him playfully - and he beckoned you over. He tucked himself back in his sweats and pulled you down to sit next to him, cuddled against his chest.

“I fucking love you,” he said, before leaning in and kissing you hard. You returned it, hand resting on his strong chest.

“I love you too,” you said, and god, did you.

—

Recovery was slow. Sam was still in a lot of pain. He had multiple more surgeries to go through, and a rigorous physical therapy schedule. But he was determined to keep his legs, and determined to regain the ability to walk. He felt useless as he was. He knew he would never be active duty again, but he wanted to do something.

The only bright spots in his life were you and Olivia. He loved playing with his daughter. She loved sitting on his lap, watching Sesame Street with her dad. He’d watch kids shows all day long if it meant he got to spend time with her.

It took Livvy no time at all to warm up to Sam. She adored him. It’s like she knew the second he held her that that was her dad. “Dada” was her first word, and any time anyone else held her, she reached for him. She hardly ever took her eyes off him.

Sam still had bad days. Some days the pain was significantly worse than others. Some days his mental state was what he struggled with.

This was one of those days where he struggled with both. He had been feeling down, although he wouldn’t admit it, it was obvious to you. You wanted to do something to make him feel better.

You left Sam in bed taking a nap after his physical therapy. You had called Viv and asked if she wanted to watch Livvy for the night - she said yes, of course, and was excited for a sleepover with her and Erik’s goddaughter. Viv came by during Sam’s nap and picked her up. You gave your daughter a million kisses before you allowed her to go, but you knew she would be safe.

When Sam awoke, it was already 7pm. He called for you, still unable to do much on his own. You walked into the room to find him there, still looking as if he hated himself.

“Do you need some help?” you asked him softly, brushing your hand over his hair that was slowly growing out.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You grabbed his crutches from against the wall and helped him stand. Once he was situated on them he was able to hobble into the bathroom while you waited for him. When he was done, you helped him lay back down.

You crawled into bed next to him, cuddling up to his side. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. “Where’s Livvy?”

“Sleepover with Auntie Viv,” you said. “Just us tonight.”

Sam smirked down at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “What, you have something you want to do?”

“Maybe,” he teased. He shifted so he could face you better, then he tilted your head up, leaning down to kiss your soft lips.

His tongue traced your bottom lip and you happily let him in, your own meeting his as he pressed his body into yours. His hand rested on your waist and he pulled you closer, bringing you onto his lap.

“Are you sure?” you asked, gently straddling him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” Sam mumbled, kissing down your neck and nipping at the spot that always made you gasp. Your hands tightened on his broad shoulders. “I want this. I need it.”

You and Sam still hadn’t had sex since he’d been home. You were scared he was still in too much pain - and for a while, he was. But now he was healing, and he wanted more than anything to be inside of you.

You reached down between you and lowered his sweatpants, large cock springing free, already hard and needy. It throbbed between you, so desperate to get in your pussy he could hardly stand it. You lifted yourself up and pushed your shorts and panties down, Sam helping.

He grabbed the base of his cock and dragged it through your folds, already soaking wet just from the thought of fucking him again. He lined himself up at your entrance then gripped onto your waist as you held onto his shoulders and lowered yourself down onto him.

You did it slowly, both so you could adjust and so you could watch Sam’s face for any sign of pain. You saw none - in fact, his face contorted in pleasure, his head falling back against the headboard.

“Christ,” he groaned. “Just as fuckin’ tight as I remembered.”

You whined as his girth stretched you - it felt like your first time again. His hands were trembling where they held you. His eyes went wide when you landed flush against him, finally buried completely in your tight heat.

You slowly, experimentally, rocked your hips against him. “Is this okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, using his hands to guide your hips a little faster.

You were nervous, but you knew he’d let you know if something didn’t feel good. You let yourself bring your hips down against him harder, the curls at his base rubbing against your clit just right.

“Sammy,” you moaned, starting to carefully bounce on him. He kept his guiding hands on you, encouraging you to go a little harder, a little faster.

“You feel so good, baby,” he said, his voice low and laced with desire. “I needed this so fuckin’ bad. You have no idea.”

You thought you did have an idea, because you felt the same way. You were keening, head thrown back as you bounced on him, the curve of his cock pressing perfectly against that bundle of nerves at your front walls.

He began thrusting up into you, grunting with every movement of his hips. The bed frame creaked with your movements - it hadn’t seen any action in a good while. Sam ran his hands up your front to pull your shirt off then grab at your tits, his thumbs rubbing against your hardened nipples. In this position they were bouncing right in his face, just like he liked them.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you in my whole fucking life.”

You smiled, looking down at him. “You sure you’re not just saying that because I’m riding you right now?” you asked him, breathless.

“Doesn’t hurt,” he teased.

You grinned, bouncing a little faster. He hissed, fingers tightening on your waist. You stopped immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Just hurt a little,” he said, though you could tell he was downplaying it. “Don’t stop though. Maybe just a little slower.”

Hesitantly, you rocked your hips again, watching him carefully. When he seemed alright, you worked back into a steady rhythm. He was letting out quiet little moans, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your nipple and pull your body against his.

“Sammy,” you moaned. “I’m so close.”

“Cum for me,” he begged. “Please. Need to feel you squeezin’ around me. I want you to cum on my cock, baby, please.”

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you were crying out, your head falling forward onto his shoulder as you rocked against him, pussy clenching around him and pushing him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you flush against him, groaning your name as he thrusted up with every release, filling you the way he liked.

You just held each other like that, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat covered your skin. Sam kissed your shoulder affectionately. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Sammy.” You kissed his lips one more time before carefully sliding off his lap. You cuddled up against him under the covers.

Things were different now. But you were happy.

part 2 soon

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connorsui · 9 months ago

Text

|| Holding You Close, My Secret Comfort

- Sukuna x fem! Reader

Synopsis: On a cold, quiet night, the reader seeks warmth from Sukuna, who outwardly protests but inwardly relishes their closeness. As the reader drifts to sleep in his arms, Sukuna takes the opportunity to admire them, revealing a softer side that he keeps hidden.

Genre/ warnings: Romance, Fluff, Light Humor, no warnings just sukuna being mean

Note: in the recent events of this manz death I needed comfort

The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow, the light from the nearby lamp flickering gently against the walls. Sukuna’s maroon satin robe rippled as he moved, his every action deliberate and calculated. You watched him, eyes tracing the lines of his powerful form, and couldn’t help but feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

He was getting ready for bed, the day’s weariness beginning to settle into his bones, but you weren’t quite ready to give up your moment with him.

“Can I stay close tonight?” Your voice was quiet, almost tentative, as if afraid he would deny you.

Sukuna paused, fixing you with a stern gaze. “No.”

His response was blunt, but you were undeterred. A small pout formed on your lips as you tried again, more playfully this time. “But it’s so cold… and I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.”

He sighed, the sound deep and resonant, as if your request had some great inconvenience. “Get another blanket if you’re that cold,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

But instead of heeding his advice, you slid closer to him on the bed, your arms wrapping around his torso in a gentle embrace. Your head found its place on his chest, where the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting presence. “This is warmer,” you murmured, eyes closing as you snuggled deeper into his warmth.

Sukuna grumbled, his tone laced with mock exasperation. “You’re like a leech. Can’t you find something else to cling to?”

Your smile widened against his chest, your breath warm against his skin. “Nope. You’re all I want to hold.”

His silence spoke volumes. Sukuna could have easily shoved you away; could have insisted you sleep elsewhere, but he didn’t. Instead, his large hands came to rest at your waist, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. He held you close, even as his words remained gruff and distant.

“Don’t expect me to make this a habit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing full well he was bluffing. “I won’t… I love you,” you replied, a playful lilt in your voice. But both of you knew it was a lie.

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare up at the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt your breathing begin to slow, your body relaxing completely against his as you started to drift off to sleep.

Sukuna’s hands, once so rough and calloused, began to move in slow, soothing circles on your back. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he were afraid of waking you. The moments stretched into minutes, and he waited patiently for the even rise and fall of your chest that signaled you were deep in slumber.

When he was certain you were asleep, Sukuna finally allowed himself to relax. His usual scowl softened, and he tilted his head down to look at you, taking in every detail of your face. The way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the soft parting of your lips as you breathed, the way you seemed so at peace in his arms—he found himself entranced by it all.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he gazed at you. In these quiet moments, when the world was still and it was just the two of you, Sukuna let his guard down. He wouldn’t dare show it while you were awake, but here, now, he could afford to be vulnerable.

His thumb brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his movements gentle and deliberate. You were beautiful to him, even more so when you were so blissfully unaware of his watchful eyes. The fierce, unyielding King of Curses felt something foreign stir within him—a warmth that had nothing to do with your shared body heat and everything to do with the strange affection he harbored for you.

As he continued to watch you, Sukuna couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had wormed your way into his heart, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length. The thought of you brought him an inexplicable comfort, a peace he hadn’t known in centuries. And though he would never admit it, he cherished these quiet moments with you more than he cared to admit.

Finally, as the night wore on and the room grew darker, Sukuna pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips barely grazing your skin. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

The words were filled with an affection he rarely showed, a rare glimpse into the depths of his true feelings. For a moment longer, he watched you, memorizing the way you looked in his arms, before he finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

With you in his arms, the world felt a little less harsh, a little less lonely. And as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile still playing on his lips, Sukuna silently vowed to keep this feeling safe, even if it meant pretending to be annoyed every time you asked to stay close. Because, in truth, there was nowhere else he would rather you be.

His death is making me wish for comfort

#suiwrites🍒#jjk #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x female reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #consui says sum #consui sees #𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓲'𝓼 𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

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bi-writes · 1 year ago

Text

bestfriend!roommate!simon asks you to come with him on a night out. it is not quite the evening you were expecting.

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 5/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mentions of death, fem!receiving suggestive touching, oral(fem!receiving), simon is an ass man, simon "i wont say it out loud but thats my girl" riley

simon was standing outside of the diner. he was in his usual spot outside, leaning along the brick wall in the alleyway. you knew it was him by the small light that flickered every so often--simon was smoking his routine cigarette as he waited for you.

simon was true to his word. ever since you began working night shifts at the diner, you weren't allowed to walk home alone. it was non-negotiable, not to be discussed. someone would pick you up at the end of your shift, and if no one could make it, there was a car waiting outside, a driver poking his head out and asking for your name. and that driver would stand, shaking a little, nervous, as they walked you to your door and said, "was told if i didn't see you go inside and lock the door that...i-i wouldn't be driving with two hands anymore--"

simon did not cut corners. he did not say "tonight will be fine--she doesn't need me." simon did not get comfortable, and he did not let safety and routine ease his fears.

he had made that mistake once before, and he had nearly lost everything--nearly. he would never make that mistake again.

the bell chimed above the door as you came outside. simon tossed the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with the steel toe of his boot just as you came near. you looked up at him as he came out of the shadows, smiling just a little.

"hi, simon."

"luv."

he wrapped a hand around the back of your head, bringing you close and kissing your forehead through the mask. you closed your eyes when he did this, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the gesture.

"i need to ask you a favor," he said as you began to walk home. you put your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as you tried to skip the cracks in the pavement.

"sure, simon. what is it?"

"'m goin' out tonight. meeting with someone, at the pub. need you to come with me."

you looked up at him as he brought you to a stop before you were crossing the street. you frowned a little, laughing, confused.

"u-uh...sure...i'll come." you snuggled into his arm, resting your chin on his shoulder. "what's the occasion? need me on your arm so you can stay silent while i do all the talking?"

he grunted a bit, shaking his head.

"no. we're just going to a pub. in an hour."

"sheesh, not a lot of time for a girl to get presentable," you joked.

"you always look beautiful," simon murmured, putting the key in the front door and opening up the apartment. he put a hand on your back as he guided you in first. "that's a mad way of thinkin'."

you smiled to yourself as you went into your bedroom. you pretended not to notice the way his hand lingered on your back, or how it grazed the hem of your skirt.

when you came back out, it took every ounce of simon's self control not to groan out loud. you had his favorite jeans on. a light wash, ones that hugged your waist no nicely and accentuated the curves of your ass in a way that he couldn't see as well when you wore a skirt or a dress. and you were wearing heeled boots, ones that made you sit so good, made you a little taller, your walk just that much more sensual.

"im ready."

you shrugged on a leather jacket, and simon grabbed a black jacket of his own, fitting it on over his hoodie. the pub was only a walk away. it was somewhere you had been before; they had cheap pints and good greasy food, and the bartender called you doe--he liked your soft eyes.

you let go of simon's arm as he opened the door for you. the pub was warm, and the chatter was quiet and lively. the yellow of the lights and the smell of cigarettes and beer was so familiar and nice. you went for the bar, but simon put a hand around your waist, bringing your attention to the back of the room. your eyes fell on a man, someone with a beanie and an army green jacket hunched over a glass of single malt.

you let him redirect you, and when you finally went to sit at the table, a stern, weathered face with indiscernible blue eyes stared up at you. simon took a seat next to you, his hands folding on top of the desk.

"what...what is--"

"this is captain john price," simon interrupted you. "he's my commanding officer."

you straightened up in your seat suddenly. the captain had his eyes on you, looking you up and down--not in a rude or threatening way, more like he was just so curious. his gaze was gentle, and finally he held out his hand for you to shake. you clasped your hand in his, giving him a firm hold, and the man finally cracked a smile under his unusual mustache.

"nice to meet you," you said softly. "i...i-i'm sorry, i...i don't understand..."

"i need you to sign some papers," john said finally. "if that's alright with you, ma'am."

"ma'am? am i your mother?" you raised a brow, cracking a bit of a smile. "no need for the formalities. i'm under the impression you're the one getting simon home, so let's not beat around the bush, john."

at the use of his name and no other title, john smiled. he gave simon a look, something as if to say, i like this one. you tilted your head to the side.

"you want me to sign papers. let me see them."

john pulled a wad of papers from the inside of his jacket, sliding them over to you. you took them, unfolding them and skimming the words. there was only one set of words you needed to pay attention to before you folded the papers back up.

NEXT OF KIN

your head snapped to the side, looking at simon with an incredulous face. your lips parted, your bottom lip trembling.

"what the fuck is this? huh?"

simon clicked his teeth.

"please--"

you moved to leave, but simon had an iron grip on the back of your chair. you bared your teeth at him, hissing under your breath.

"i'm not signing shit, you asshole," you snapped. "what the fuck is this? if you wanna die out there, that's your fucking business, but don't put that shit on me, simon--"

"i need to know that if somethin' happens to me, that you're gonna be straight, so quit your whinin' and be fuckin' realistic," he said lowly. "if something happens to me right now, you don't get anything. and i can't go...i can't go out again without you signing those papers, do you understand me?"

"why do i have to do this?" you glared at him. you tried to be angry, but your eyes were glossy. you were terrified, and your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears. "why can't you just put my name somewhere and just--"

"we're not married," simon explained. "and if things go wrong...i want you to have everything. and i mean...everything."

you closed your eyes, sniffling as you tried to keep in the tears. you felt his hand touch your shoulder gently, soft circles to try and relax you.

"sign the papers," simon whispered. "just sign'em, and we can go home."

"no, i'll go home, and you can sit out in the fucking doghouse and think about how well it'll go if you ever ambush me like this again."

you flipped the papers back over, snatching the pen from john's outstretched hand and beginning to sign messily the highlighted lines on the papers. you finished, shoving the stack back across the table before kicking the chair out from behind you. it knocked simon's arm off roughly, but you just glared at him before making your way to the bar to sit. simon watched as the bartender poured you a generous drink.

"she's fuckin' pissed at you, and she sits at the bar instead of going home?"

"she's not allowed to go home without a ride," simon murmured. "a rule she knows well."

"sounds a bit--" john's voice cut short when he met simon's hard stare. john cleared his throat, tucking the papers back into his jacket. "'m gonna make sure these get filed."

"tonight," simon demanded.

"tonight," john echoed. "be all squared away."

simon folded his hands in front of him, swallowing hard as he looked at you at the bar. there were a few tears running down your face. simon hated seeing you cry; he hated even more that he was the cause of that pain, but in his eyes, this was a necessary evil.

"she's beautiful, simon."

"watch it, mate." there was no malice behind simon's response--it was more of an acknowledgement that yes indeed, she's beautiful. "this goes nowhere, cap'n. not johnny, not gaz, not laswell--"

"i know," john nodded. "i'll get it done."

john stood up to leave, and simon held onto his hand as they shook hands. he pulled him closer, staring right into his eyes.

"she gets...everything. every single bloody penny."

john nodded, letting go of him and finding his way out. simon turned his head back to the bar, watching you carefully. a man came up to you, presumably wanting to buy you a drink, but you spit something out at him which the man didn't like. simon leaned back in his chair, smirking under the mask when the man waddled outside with his hand holding his crotch and a hard, red face.

when simon closed the door behind you after stepping inside the apartment, you were quick to come closer to him. his hand twisted the locks, and then your arms were around his neck, hugging him close as you breathed in the scent of him. all of the sudden, you didn't hate the smell of cigarettes. burning cigarettes meant simon was breathing in, sucking in breath, alive.

"i'm sorry, luv," he murmured into your hair. "'m sorry i cornered you like that, but i needed to--"

"i just don't like thinking about it, simon--what the fuck would i do without you?"

"you've been without me before."

"not by choice, never by choice," you snapped. "you leave. and i just miss you." you push off the hood over his head, smoothing a hand down the back of his balaclava. "i know what you do is important. i know you're good at what you do. but while you're off saving the world..."

"don't do this to me," simon hissed. "don't play that fuckin' card."

"i can play that card all i like after tonight," you growled. "you wanna throw all that responsibility on me? the burden of carrying your cross if a bullet goes through your head? tough shit, simon! while you're off saving the world, i'm the one that gets left behind! i'm the one sitting at home, biting my nails until they bleed because i don't know if you're dead or alive!"

the room was quiet. so quiet, the creak of the floorboards sounding under you as simon gripped your hips tight. you beat a fist against his chest, letting more tears fall.

"it's not fair, simon," you whimpered. "all we've been through...everything that's happened..." you hiccuped gently. "it's not fair, you're so...you're so mean..."

"mean?" he looked hurt. a flash of it crossed his eyes, something sad.

"yes, you're mean," you whispered. "what you do to me is so mean..." you leaned in. "you touch me...you kiss me...you give me everything but then you expect me to just..." you sucked in a shaky breath. "...i don't know what i am to you, simon. i don't know what you want from me."

simon grunted at that. he was terrible with words. he didn't know how to express what he felt for you, how to tell you that you were it. that maybe instead of making you sign those papers, he should've gotten onto his knees and begged you to marry him. tied a thread around your ring finger and made price bear witness. but you were...this was already too far. living with you was too far, touching you was too far, tasting you was too far--he had enough self-control to leave before he went too far, but it killed him when he walked away from you.

so he got down on his knees. he turned you around, pushed on the small of your back until you were kneeling against the couch, ass up on your forearms as he found the button on your jeans and tugged them low. you didn't stop him, but you were still crying softly. simon wasted no time, getting behind you on his knees and tugging your panties down. he spread your ass with both hands after tugging his mask up, wasting no time as he leaned forward and buried his tongue between your folds.

"dunno what to call you," simon murmured. "no idea. all i know is that you're mine, luv--" you shoved your face into the cushions, whining as he slurped noisily, tracing letters into your cunt with his tongue and pressing kisses to the wet skin there. you were always so good for him--he never needed to get you ready, never needed to get you wet, you always seemed to know or maybe you were just that fucking needy for him that you were always this pretty between the legs when he was around. you were such a good girl--waiting, watching, smiling, she's so pretty, she's so beautiful, she's so good to me.

simon wasn't going to let a title take away the things you deserved if something happened to him. the comfort you needed, the security you were never promised, the love that simon always had but never voiced. you deserved it, and so help him, he would give it to you--he would take care of you even if he was six feet under, and there wasn't a move he didn't make that wasn't planned without you in mind.

how do i get back to her?

how i do i leave her without leaving?

how do i make sure she isn't lost even if she doesn't know where to go?

simon was the first man you ever loved. and he would be the last.

you were drooling. your eyes fluttering open and closed, your cheek squished against the cushions as simon ate your cunt from behind. it was filthy, deranged, sucking on your clit in the same place that you ate dinners and watched movies--now it was one of the places that simon ruined you again for any other man or woman or anyone who had their eye on you.

perfect, sweet little cunt--tight, tasted so good, something that could satiate the hunger on a man like him for days over. and simon was hungry. he had trauma; trauma that crawled into his dreams and turned them into nightmares, something that kept him from looking at women the way a man like him might, but he never felt that way with you. fuck, he was hard the minute he saw a sliver of your soft skin, had no problem gripping your plush ass in both hands and eating you furiously, not even a flicker of something angry in his head.

his brain turned off whenever he was with you. sex felt inevitable--hearing your cries wasn't something he wanted, it was something he needed. an angry need, one that had his tongue slipping up your folds and teasing your puckered hole before moving back down and curling inside your pretty cunt.

"c'mon, luv...c'mon, give it to me...give it to me, 'm not gonna ask again--"

you sobbed into the cushion as you came, rocking back against his mouth. you giggled with pleasure as you slid onto your stomach, simon's hands dragging your panties back up as he pressed soft kisses to the meat of your ass.

"'f someone comes around askin', sweetheart, you know what to tell'm."

you belong to a ghost. and that isn't a lie.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

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Leave Us in Ruins

Eddie x reader, Steve x reader

Your relationship with Eddie becoming rocky as you discuss your future and when he begins to just tolerate you, he ends up sending you right into the arms of the person he always worried about.

cw: mention of pregnancy, Eddie and reader argue, hurt/no comfort

This is very loosely based on “Tolerate it” by Taylor Swift as well as the All Too Well short film. Special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name for letting me yap and giving me feedback!

The bed dips when Eddie’s sits on the edge, maneuvering himself so that he’s under the covers with you, pulling you to his chest. You bury your nose in his wet hair, giving it a whiff because for whatever reason, your shampoo smells a lot better on him.

His arms wrap around your tightly, giving you a squeeze like he does every night. It’s part of your nightly routine and you expect it every time he crawls into bed with you. He then follows that with a kiss to your lips, telling you how much he loves you before the two of you fall asleep.

You’re whispering in the dark even though it’s late and you both have work in the morning. But this is your safe space where you can tell each other anything. Your deepest fears. Your darkest secrets. And you know that Eddie will never judge you because that’s just not who he is.

“God, I wanna marry you,” you whisper and the giggles that have been falling from Eddie’s lips quickly fizzle out into silence and he hopes you can’t hear how loudly he’s just gulped. This is the moment he’s feared for so long and now it’s here and he doesn’t know what to say.

Bile is progressively rising in his throat and his mouth is so dry that he’s sure that no amount of water will help. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous-well, maybe he does. The idea of marriage terrifies him. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you forever, because he does. He just doesn’t like thinking about standing in front of all of your friends and family in an itchy suit, vowing that he’ll love you until death do you part.

He doesn’t get why it’s such a big deal, why everyone wants to get married. You’re already together, why spend all that money and time just for a last name change and a couple of rings. You’re already as happy as can be so why make this big life change when it really won’t alter anything at all?

“You do?” He asks, trying to play it cool, but the man is sweating bullets. He can’t just tell you how he feels right here, right now. He can’t break your heart before bed, that would be cruel. And Eddie isn’t cruel.

“Yeah,” you say, snuggling into his chest and he doesn’t even have to look at you to know that you’re grinning. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to get the courage to tell you the truth. Should be easy enough. It’s just like ripping off a bandaid. Except this one is going to hurt so bad, the kind that pulls off the scab, leaving the wound open.

But he doesn’t tell you the truth. He just says “Let’s go to bed,” and turns out the lamp, leaving you in complete darkness, wondering if it was something you said. You’re blaming yourself, hating yourself for bringing something like that up with no warning and now you just wish you could go back in time and take it all back. You didn’t mean it. You were just so caught up in your love for him that you just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

But the longer you think about it, the more you realize that you didn’t actually do anything wrong. He was the one who fucked up in this situation. You told him how you felt and he just dismissed it, suggesting that you got to bed instead of acknowledging your feelings. He’s even gone as far as turning the opposite side and you didn’t even realize that he had let go of you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, the room feeling like it’s ten degrees colder and you’re freezing without his body to keep you warm. He’s slipping through your fingers and you don’t know what happened to make him behave so coldly towards you when not even ten minutes earlier, he was telling you that he loves you through fits of giggles. This is the first crack and eventually the entire thing is going to crumble into a million pieces, you can just tell.

“So you’re saying that you don’t want to marry me?” Eddie can see the tears in your eyes and it’s breaking his heart seeing you like that. You’re crying now and this isn’t one he can hug you through because this time, he’s the one that hurt you. He can’t kiss this one better and that’s what’s really fucking him up.

Something wet drops onto his shirt and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying too. He quickly wipes his tears then rushes to you to wipe your tears away too, but you step away, looking at him like he’s a stranger, because at this point, he is.

“It’s over, Eddie,” you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. This is it. It really is the end.

You’re getting further away and he’s running as fast as he can to get to you, but you eventually disappear into thin air. Eddie drops to his knees, sobs raking through him as he’s saying your name and the words “I’m sorry" over and over until they’ve lost all meaning.

Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat and lets out a sigh as he realizes that it was just a dream, he turns over in the bed to pull you to his chest, but your side of the bed is empty and cold. He hurries out of the bed and as he gets out of the room, he realizes that you’re just in the shower and he lets out a deep breath. So you really are still here and he didn’t fuck things up nearly as bad he thought he did.

He opens the bathroom door just as you’re turning off the water and as soon as he sees you, a wide grin breaks out on Eddie’s face, but yours stays the same. It’s weird, almost like he’s not even there at all. He reaches for the towel on the counter and hands it to you and you take it without a word. So you are mad. Message received.

You wrap the towel around your body then get out of the shower before pushing past Eddie to head to your room to get dressed for work. He follows you, completely understanding what’s going on, but he wants you to tell him so he can figure out how to fix it. In your two years together, you’ve never been this upset with him. But then again, he’s never been that much of an ass before so he supposes that he deserves it.

This is the quietest you’ve been since you’ve gotten together. There’s no sweet words shared between kisses and the worst part of it all is that you won’t even look at him. You just continue to get dressed like he’s not even in the room and with the way you’re treating him, he might as well not be. It’s so bad that you’re not even letting him pick out your shirt like you do every time he sleeps over.

“Did I do something?” Stupid question. He knows exactly what he did, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Because then he’ll realize that you’re anger is justified and then he has to accept just how badly he fucked up and he doesn’t to believe that he hurt you that badly.

“What?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “No, you didn’t do anything,” you shake your head, putting on a smile and Eddie lets out a sigh of relief.

“But you took a shower without me.”

“That’s because someone turned off my alarm and now I’m running late.” You’re putting your shoes on as quickly as possible before grabbing your jacket and heading out the door to your room in a blur.

He’s hot on your heels as he follows you into the living area of your apartment, standing there expectantly as you put on your jacket and grab your keys.

“Lock up when you leave, yeah?” You ask, then slip out the door, not even kissing him before you go. You always kiss him before you leave. Oh, you’re pissed.

You take a deep breath as you exit the building, trying to calm yourself down so you’re bringing your anger into work. But seriously, not even an apology or acknowledgment that he fucked up? You don’t know who that guy is, but he’s definitely not Eddie. Eddie would have gotten onto his knees and begged for forgiveness.

This just doesn’t make any sense to you. You thought you really knew him, but you guess that the two years you were together were just a load of shit. You really thought you wanteds the same things but now you’re realizing that you really don’t know Eddie at all. Now he’s just a stranger to you now that you know that he never actually did want to marry you. He’s progressively becoming the kind of man he’s always claimed to hate and you’re not entirely sure what to do about that.

The living room is quiet except for the tv that’s playing a show rerun softly. You and Steve are lying on the couch. Your shirt is pushed up and his hand is rubbing your now large baby bump, looking at it so lovingly that you feel like you could melt. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart throughout your entire pregnancy. He’s just been there to help, not even asking for anything in return.

“What about Olivia?” He suggests. You’ve been suggesting baby names back and forth and this is the first one that he’s given that’s actually had potential.

“Hm,” you say. “Olivia,” you repeat. “Olivia Robin. Oh, Steve, that’s perfect!”

You wrap your arms around him and give a tight hug, pulling him as close to your body as he can despite your bump being in the way. He hugs you back instantly, burying his face into your neck, taking a chance and pressing a kiss to it. He knows it’s risky, but he just can’t take it anymore. He’s gotta show you just how he feels about you after all these years.

You pull back to look at him, your gaze shifting to his lips and he’s realizing that you want this too. Well, to kiss him, at least. Your hand rests on his cheek and you both lean in slowly until your lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and everything Steve thought it would be. He can finally go to sleep tonight knowing what your lips feel like.

He feels fireworks in the pit of his stomach and for once, it’s like everything between the two of you makes sense to him. This just feels right and he hopes that this won’t just be a one time thing.

The kitchen is silent besides the sounds of you and Eddie doing dishes. Tension between the two of you is high and you’re both so in your own heads, so convinced that you’re both right that you can’t even see the other’s side.

You can still see the scene in your head so perfectly. You can still feel his hand setting yours back down on the table, silently telling you that he didn’t want to hold it like he always does.

And he doesn’t even understand why it hurt you so badly, trying to play it off like it was nothing when it was everything to you. He sees it as simply just not holding your hand in the moment, but to you, the small crack in your relationship has become even bigger to the point where it’s almost shattered like you’ve been fearing for months.

He’s turned on some music to try and lighten the mood and it’s clear that he doesn’t even get it. He doesn’t know that what he’s done was wrong. And you’re not going to spell it out for him this time. He’s gotta figure this shit out on his own.

He takes the dish that you’re washing from your hand and pulls you in for a dance like he always does when you do dishes together. And even if you were upset with him, you’d still join in, not wanting to let the whole thing ruin the moment, but not tonight. You’re staying strong.

He’s trying to spin you around, but you just glare at him, the anger bubbling inside you like a pot that’s about to boil over.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s wrong? Eddie, you dropped my hand.” Your voice is small now, almost as if you can’t believe what you’re saying.

“Oh, that,” he says, waving the whole thing off like it’s nothing. He honestly doesn't even know what you’re talking about, the moment that you clearly so vividly remember that Eddie has absolutely no recollection of.

“Yeah, that.”

“I just didn’t want to hold your hand. Why are you being so dramatic?” That’s the final straw. Dramatic? Oh, if he wants dramatic, you’re going to give it to him.

You slip your hands out of his and watch his face fall then screw up into offense.

“Not so fun now is it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you cross your arms over your chest. “Why didn’t you want to hold my hand?”

“I don’t know, okay?” He asks, getting progressively more frustrated, just wishing that you’d drop it already. “I was just trying to have fun with my friends. Is that so wrong? I-I don’t know what the fuck you’re even talking about. You’re acting weird, y/n.”

“I’m not acting weird, you are. I mean, who the fuck even are you? Because the Eddie that I know would have held my hand the entire night and made sure to include me in his conversations, but you’re some stranger now so I guess I should lower my expectations.”

“What the fuck is going on with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what? I’m upset by something that you did and now you’re trying to convince me that what I’m feeling is wrong.”

“You’re acting like a real bitch. God, it’s like I don’t even recognize you anymore. All you do now is complain about what I’m doing when you’re just setting your expectations of me too high.” The anger is building progressively and you can’t believe he’s trying to flip this on you. What have you done to Eddie except love him despite his flaws?

You only realize what you’ve done when you see Eddie press his hand against his cheek. It all happens so fast that you’re staring at each other in shock. Neither of you expected it, you least of all. You’re usually pretty good at keeping your cool, but hearing him call you a bitch filled you with a rage that you’ve only seen but never actually experienced until now.

With that, you turn on your heel, tears streaming down your cheeks, blurring your vision so that you can barely see when you run into Steve by the stairs.

You throw yourself into his arms, desperate for a shoulder to cry on. He’s been there for you your entire life, the one person who you can feel like you can go to for anything. He’s been so helpful these past few months as your relationship with Eddie has gone up in flames.

He holds you and runs his hands up and down your back the way he knows you like as he just lets you cry. He doesn’t think he should say anything right now. He already knows what happened and is sure that you just want a shoulder to cry on, no advice.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sniff as you pull away, grimacing when you see that you’ve gotten snot on his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “Do you want to crash on my couch tonight?” All you can do is nod and he takes his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before leading you out the front door, making sure to shoot Eddie a glare who’s watching the both of you from the kitchen. Eddie flips him off then storms towards the front door and slams it as soon as the two of you are outside.

Fuck this, he thinks. You two deserve each other. Even though Steve is his friend and even introduced him to you, Eddie’s always been worried about him and you being alone together. He trusts you, but he’s always been scared that Steve’s going to make a move with him being in love with you and all. He’s always afraid that one little moment between the two of you is going to be the reason why you’ll break up with him and he knows he deserves it.

He’s been nothing but a dick, progressively pushing you away more and more as the months have gone on. He’ll get into bed long after you’re asleep and will be gone before you get up. It’s like he’s purposefully ignoring you and he can’t figure out why. It’s like he knows this isn’t working and he wants to ignore the inevitable as long as he can. He can’t lose you. He just can’t. But seeing you leave with Steve, his jacket draped over your shoulders, it makes him realize that he’s pushing you into someone else’s arms and he’s going to beat himself up about this for the rest of his life.

You’re asleep when Steve pulls up to his apartment building having cried basically the whole ride there. The whole situation with Eddie clearly took a toll on you so he decides to let you rest, picking you up as gently as he can as he carries you inside the lobby.

He’s staring down at you as you sleep and hates how much he desperately wants to be the one to do this every night. But he lost his chance and then was forced to watch you fall in love with his other best friend while he had been pining for you for the majority of his life. And he loves that you’re happy but he’s still wondering what it would be like to be yours. But he doesn’t want to get between the two of you so he just sits on the sidelines and watches the two of you fall even more madly in love with each other as the days go on.

And he feels so selfish for feeling that way but he can’t help it. He’s been in love with you his entire life and has watched you date all of those other people, not even considering him to be an option. And it breaks his heart even more every time. Why isn’t he good enough for you? What has he done to make you not see him in a romantic sense?

He shakes the thought and gets to his apartment, struggling to get the door open but when he finally gets it, he carries you straight to his room, trying so hard not to wake you up. He lays you down onto the bed and takes off your shoes before putting the blanket over you and turning off his lamp.

Once he’s sure that you’re settled, he heads back out to the living room and grabs a blanket before lying on the couch, his bed for the night. He then turns on the tv to have some background noise, tossing and turning the entire night like he always does. Steve doesn’t think that he’s ever had a good night’s sleep in his life so why does he think tonight will be any different?

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee that wafts into the bedroom that you immediately recognize as Steve’s. Of course he would insist that you take the bed while he sleeps on the couch. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

You get up and realize that you’re still in your dress from the night before. You must have passed out before you could borrow some of Steve’s clothes. You pull back the blanket and head into the kitchen where Steve is at the table eating a bowl of the cereal you remember the two of you eating as kids.

You sit down across from him and take a deep breath, preparing to tell him what you had been mulling over for weeks, months even. It had to come to this eventually right? These past few months have been so rough and as much as you don’t want things to end, you know they have to. They can’t keep going on this way. It’s not good for you and it’s certainly not good for Eddie.

It was a long time coming, you think, as Steve pours you a cup of coffee, fixing it with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He knows you so well and it hurts so much that you thought Eddie did too. You really thought he wanted to build a life with you. But now all of the fantasies of the two of you at the altar and rocking cradles are all being packed up into boxes along with the Eddie you thought you knew.

You don’t even know who he is anymore. Now all he seems to care about is getting promoted at the record store where he works and doing gigs with his band. He’s not making time for you anymore, not even leaving space for you in his bed when you come over, lying directly in the middle. It’s almost like he’s purposely trying to cut you out of his life and it hurts even more knowing that you were the one who did all of that for him. You got him the job at the record store. You lined up all of those gigs for him and now it’s almost like he’s tolerating you.

“I’m breaking up with Eddie,” you tell Steve, almost too quickly, but you’re just trying to rip off the bandaid. The quicker the better. But as you rip it off, the wound starts to bleed, badly, so overwhelmed with the pain and the finality of your words that you just sit there, silently pleading Steve to respond.

He’s so shocked by your words that he ends up letting the coffee overflow and spill out onto the table. You’re quick to stand up and hurry to the sink to grab some paper towels and wet them before coming back to clean up the mess because he’s clearly too stunned to do so.

“You’re what?” He asks as he sits back down, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. He knew you were going through a rough patch, but you didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant a breakup. God, this is going to kill Eddie.

“I’m breaking up with Eddie,” you repeat as you continue to wipe up the spill, more confidence in your voice this time. You say the words so nonchalantly as if you’re telling him what you’re going to order for lunch. This is big news and it’s almost like you don’t even care.

“I thought things were getting better.”

“Well, they’re not,” you huff, maybe scrubbing the table a little too hard and now Steve is concerned that you’re going to remove the finish. “You saw the way he treated me last night, Steve. I deserve better.” It’s so jarring having his own words thrown back in his face. He’s told you that so many times with other guys, but he never expected to hear it coming from you about Eddie of all people. This is all too much to take and now he suddenly feels the need to lie down.

He doesn’t know why it seems like he’s the one who’s being broken up with. Maybe it’s because in a way, he is. When it comes down to it, he’s eventually going to have to pick a side. And as much as he loves Eddie, you were there first. God, he feels like a child whose parents just told him that they’re getting divorced.

He’s already going over in his head about what he’s going to say to him, how he’s going to be there for you, how mad Eddie’s going to be. He doesn’t care about that, though. Steve was your friend first and the two of you are a package deal. Eddie knew that going into this.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. This fucking sucks. I-I really thought you were going to be together forever.”

“Me too,” you reply, feeling tears prick your eyes. Steve turns you to face him and wipes your tears with the pads of his thumbs before standing to pull you into his arms, rubbing your back sympathetically as he lets you cry into his chest. For the first time in years, it’s going to be the two of you and even though he should be happy, he just can’t be knowing that you’re so broken up about the whole thing.

Three minutes. Three minutes until you get your life altering results. You stand at the bathroom counter, breathing in and out deeply as you look at the little test in front of you. You stare at it, hoping that the results will show up sooner but you still have over two minutes left.

The anticipation is killing you and you’re not sure how you’re going to cope if it’s not what you want. You’ve always wanted kids; being a mother is something you’ve wanted to be your entire life and knowing that that tiny stick is holding your future is starting to make you sick.

The floor in the hallway creaks and you turn to your left and see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he gives you a wide smile. He then enters the bathroom and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He reaches towards the counter to turn the timer against the wall before lifting his head to smile at your reflection. It’s all teeth and it reminds you of his old school pictures, always smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” he says, his tone nothing but loving.

“You don’t know that,” you roll your eyes. “It could be negative.” Steve laughs at that. You’ve been like this all morning, waiting for him to get home from work so he could be there when you took the test. There was no way he was missing this.

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited.” He has been looking forward to this probably more than you have. He’s wanted kids just as much as you have and now he’s going to have a chance to raise one with the woman he’s loved since he was six years old. He’s dreamed about this for years and can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

“Well of course you are,” you turn around to glare at him. “You’re not the one who has to carry the thing for nine months.” You didn’t even think about getting pregnant this soon. You wanted to be settled down first, married, even. But one missed period later even after being so careful, your life is about to change one way or another. Even though you can’t even imagine having a baby right now, you keep thinking about how heartbroken you’ll be if it’s negative.

“No, but I can get one of those fake stomachs if that will make you feel any better.” Steve has been there with you through everything. As soon as you told him that you missed a period, he ran to the store and got you the best pregnancy test on the market, according to an employee he asked. And then he went to work at the bar before you could take it so here you are at five in the morning, not-so-patiently waiting for the results.

“I’m sorry, you’re being sweet. I’m just nervous. There’s so much riding on this and-” the timer goes off and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You turn to the text and cover your eyes before holding it out to Steve who has to put his glasses on to even see it. The gasp he lets out makes everything so obvious and you have to turn the test around to confirm that he’s not just fucking with you. But sure enough, there it is, the faint pink plus sign. The one you wanted so badly to see.

“Congratulations, mama!” Steve says as he picks you up and spins you around, giggles pouring from both of your mouths. This is it. You’re getting exactly what you wanted and you get to do it with your best friend. The only person you can imagine spending this next chapter of your life with. For the first time in years, you’re finally starting to feel like yourself and nothing, absolutely nothing can change that.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff

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echoes-of-a-dream · 2 months ago

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blind instinct 0.1 | matt murdock

blind instinct masterlist | matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: when you find matt unconscious and bleeding out, your instinct is to take him to the e.r.: good instinct. when they won’t release information on his condition to anyone outside of kin, you lie and say you’re his wife: bad instinct. when matt wakes up from surgery with amnesia, believing when the doctors say you’re married, you play along to keep him safe: you don’t even know how to categorize that one.

<- previous chapter

YOUR POV

You yawn as you check the time, blinking in surprise at the numbers staring back at you. “Oh, crap, I gotta go!”

Matt huffs a laugh, feeling at his tactile watch you got him for his law school graduation. “It’s barely nine.”

“Exactly.” You stand, giving your best friend a hug, a little awkward considering he’s still sitting down. “Past my bedtime.” You two had finally found time to hang out—between Matt’s busy job as a lawyer, requiring him to work at all times of the day, including when a client is arrested at two a.m., and his busy nightlife as a vigilante, it feels like you never get to see each other. So, it was nice to have your schedules overlap—you caught up on each other’s lives (your failed dates, Matt’s successful cases), watched a movie (with audio descriptions on for Matt), ate dinner while you watched (courtesy of grateful clients from the aforementioned successful cases), and laid on his couch chatting for a little while—you snuggled under a blanket, Matt’s feet stubbornly resting on your lap no matter how many times you try to kick them off.

“You know, when people call you an old soul they aren’t meaning you have to actually be old,” he teases.

“I have to be up early tomorrow!” You defend.

“No, you don’t,” he refutes easily, lips twitching up in a smug smile. You glare even though you know he can’t see it, although you know he can guess your expression judging by the way his smirk grows.

“Become best friends with a human lie detector, they said,” you mutter as you go to grab your shoes, well aware that he can hear you. “It’ll be fun, they said. You won’t want to murder him every time he calls you out, they said.”

“Murder?” Matt, who followed you to the entryway, raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You know, you can get arrested for that.”

“Good thing I have an incredible lawyer friend.”

He chuckles. “You just said you would kill me.”

“I meant Foggy.” You sniff primly, allowing Matt to pull you into a real hug and easily returning it. In your normal tone, you admonish, “Eat food, drink water, I hope the case tomorrow goes well, and for the love of everything holy please do not die before I see you again, Murdock.” It’s almost a ritual for you two—slowly getting longer over the years. Back when you were in high-school, still living at St. Agnes, and Matt, two years older, had just started Columbia, it was drink water, Murdock, and for the love of everything holy don’t die of kidney failure. That quickly turned into remember to drink water and eat food, you’re all skin and bones; what are you doing, starving yourself to death for fun? (to which Matt would joke that you were not building a strong case against being a grandma in disguise), and then once he started interning at Landman & Zach it became eat food, drink water, you’re gonna kill it tomorrow in court as long as you don’t let your habits kill you first—please don’t do that, by the way, before you found out about Daredevil and it evolved into its current iteration.

“I’ll try my best,” Matt says, as he always does.

With that, you head out, making your way cheerily towards the subway station to take it back to your apartment. You’re aware of your surroundings, of course: only an idiot wouldn’t be, not when walking through Hell’s Kitchen at night. It’s a little early for Matt to start his patrol, he probably won’t for another hour or so, so you’re on higher alert as you walk.

You make it safely to the station before realizing with a jolt that you left your purse—including your MetroCard, your literal ID, everything you need to function as an adult—at Matt’s. Already tired, you head back, even more tense than you were before. Shadows seem to jump out at you and you more than once hold your breath in fear upon hearing footsteps, only for the person approaching to pass you or turn, either way paying you little to no mind at all.

It’s a little while after you left and with a large sigh of relief that you return to Matt’s apartment, thankfully catching the door from the pizza guy before it can lock again. He’s on the sixth floor and the elevator is broken, so it takes you another little minute before you make it to his door, now panting and sweaty. You lean against the door for a minute, resting and catching your breath before calling out “Matt?”

No response. He’s definitely not asleep, he’s probably not on patrol, and you know he can hear you. You try knocking, but still nothing

“Matty? Sorry to come back, I walked all the way to the subway station before I realized I left my purse.”

Still no response. Horror stories begin playing through your head, your imagination still fully awake and active from the walk back to Matt’s apartment. Maybe someone figured out he was Daredevil. Maybe he had a heart attack and died. Maybe he hates you.

“Matt, I’m getting a little worried!”

You force yourself to stop, breathe, rationalize. Maybe he heard something and went out as Daredevil a little early—you can’t hear sirens, but generally sirens come after Matt is done. Maybe he’s in the shower and can’t get out at the moment—you don’t have super hearing, you wouldn’t know. Yet, the fear, the panic clawing at your throat, the gut feeling telling you something is wrong, doesn’t let up, prompting you to pull out your phone and attempt to call his burner phone he takes out as Daredevil. There’s no response. He could be in the middle of a fight, you tell yourself, but can’t shake the feeling of off.

“Matthew Michael Murdock! Open the door, please!”

There’s a sound of a crash that causes your heart to leap into your throat, hands shaking as you grab the spare key to the apartment—hidden in one of the potted plants outside his door, the ones you gave him because “this hallway is too drab, it makes me depressed every time I see it”—every fear confirmed. Matt Murdock isn’t clumsy. The only way that crash could happen is if he is injured or if someone else is either breaking in or fighting him. It takes a few tries to get the key in the lock and unlocked, panic causing your faculties to fail. Only a few steps in and you’re tripping over an unconscious guy—not Matt—and you flip on your phone flashlight so as not to overstimulate Matt with the sound of buzzing lights. At least, you hope he’s alive to avoid overstimulating.

A few steps in, and you see him lying on the ground, coffee table split under him. His mouth is open as he mouths at the air, straining for breath and some kind of relief. He’s covered in blood and you can only hope most of it comes from the assailants. There’s a gasp that you belatedly realize comes from yourself as you rush to your best friend, hands hovering over him as you try to figure out what to do.

911. Right. Call them. Smart.

Your hands are steadier now that you have given yourself direction, all emotion pushed aside as you focus on completing the task.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator asks when they pick up.

“I’m- my- my friend is hurt. Home invasion.”

“How badly?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of blood. At- at least some from his head, but head wounds bleed a lot, right? But- it’s all over. Torso, legs, arms, face. I don’t know what’s his and what isn’t.”

“Alright, ma’am, I have dispatched an ambulance and police to your location. Can I ask what happened?”

“I don’t know. Sorry, I’m saying that a lot. I left my purse in his apartment and didn’t realize until I made it to the subway station, so I came back to get it. When I left, he was fine, and he was alone, and then when I got here there’s two unconscious randos on the ground and Matt’s injured on the ground.”

“Alright, thank you. Do you know if he is conscious?”

You hesitate, unable to tell if his eyes are just closed and he’s out of it or if he’s genuinely unconscious. Tentatively, you reach out to cup his face, and he instinctively leans into it. You exhale in relief as you inform the operator, “He’s conscious.” Matt mumbles something you don’t quite catch. “Matty? Hey, Matt, buddy?” You whisper, soothingly stroking his cheek and trying to wipe away some of the blood. “Can you talk?”

Over the line, you hear the operator telling you to make sure he stays conscious. The ambulance is about seven minutes away still, can you manage for that long? You promise to do so, getting put on hold while the operator tends to another emergency.

“Matt?” You try again, his eyelids fluttering without really opening. Further concerned, you part his eyelids—there’s something about checking eyes in tv shows, right?—just in time to see it roll back into his head, only showing the whites. You grimace, grossed out, and quickly let go, moving to attempt to shake him awake in a move of blatant stupidity you will later look back on with deep regret.

And when nothing happens and Matt doesn’t wake, all you know to do is find his pulse—weak, but present, quick but regular—and sit there with 9-1-1 hold music blaring through your phone sneakers, crying and praying for the ambulance to please hurry up, please G-d please, wishing and hoping with everything in you.

next chapter ->

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#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #blind instinct series #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x you #matt murdock x you

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ladythornofrivia · 9 days ago

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Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Four)

author’s note: i hope S3 of HOTD gets better.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye.

The dreams had sprung again.

But in the voiceless abyss was a never-ending sprout of chilling winter.

You have dreamt of your unknown past, smothered in cold darkness. Raindrop voices plopped onto your ears, the wind spoke in hush. Like water, it slithered and drowned in your clear, lulling thoughts. An endless realm of dreamless abyss. Terrible as it was, you somehow found odd comfort.

Prayers were answered in dreams, but comes with a cost in life.

Dreams is a preferably escapade among others, among passions and desires and distractions.

Every night, your prayers sent before went straight to bed, gazing at a low glow of candle light, a little flame brightened before your tired eyes. Within the flames, it almost felt as if the flame spoke to you, a message that is hidden beneath the flicker, a little flicker that warms the nightfall.

A voice hollered.

(Y/n), (y/n)…

(Y/n).

(Y/N), IF ONLY YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN!

A flash of the tallest tower struck another flash, a faceless woman in teal nightgown fell from the window and dove into the deep shores, washing the banes and blesses of life. The figure blended into the watering depths.

In other dreams, you saw your father abandoned you, crowning Alicent as the new queen of Westeros, right beside the crying Rhaenyra, betrayed and broken, after her mother’s death. Even in dreams, you are jealous of a young Rhaenyra free address, an expressing her of dissatisfaction against the likes of your father’s schemes and tricks for the foolish king to be a once again fool. A fool of a Targaryen is a fool’s downfall, and within that downfall is also yours—stagnant and cruelly poorer. Poorer than a peasant, poorer than a hound starved, poorer than infants dying on their mother’s breast, like a cold winter’s night, white naught of the cold beasts and Others. A long dead of night is what hungered the realm’s downfall.

Your downfall.

A curse has been born from dreams.

And you are still.

~*~

Your dressed shredded and torn apart by your husband, the prince dragon himself. Moans and groans and smothered sweat permitting in the cold air. Despite the cold air, their heated love is eternal.

Aemond’s lips parted to a long moan, pressing it against your flushed skin. Since wedded by the Weirwood tree and a septon, you felt the happiest moment in your life, where the dragon prince provided you with comfort and welcoming to fill in the halls.

Your mind erased the negligence and the isolation that your family has put you through.

“Aemond,” you whined, clutching your hands behind his neck. “I need you.”

“My sweet princess,” he murmured, kissing you on the lips, his indigo-stoned eye gleamed in a dimmed candlelight. “I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.”

The silver glint on his ring finger stared back at you as Aemond reached his hand out to cup you face.

“I’m here, my love,” he said to you, kissing you once more as his hips thrusted forward—fast and harsh, until his hot seed spilled inside you.

As he laid down beside you, his arm wrapped around your frame and hauled you against him.

“Something on your mind, my sweet?” he murmured.

“Nightmares…” you said, snuggling against him.

“What of them?”

You sighed. “I hear voices in my sleep. They were screaming at me. And I hated it. And I found myself drowning into the ocean. It was cold and dark, and I’m frightened. I don’t know how to swim.”

His grip tightened. “I’ll keep you away from the waters.”

“I heard a woman’s voice,” you continued. “And I couldn’t figure out who was it.”

“It is normal to have these dreams,” he said.

“Almost everyday?” you questioned.

“Not everyday. Dreams can offer wisdom. Sometimes my sister, Helaena, whispered mysterious things. Like hers, when she shared the message, I was the one who listened to her when no one else does.”

Your legs tangled with his in the silken pearly white sheets, the pearly-white canopy flowed as the candlelight flickered.

“You’re so thoughtful to your sister,” you said, stroking his silken hair. “I wish I could share the same thought when it comes to my own, but she’s…a Queen.”

Aemond hummed, his violet eye lulling. “I’ll protect you.” The cloaked the blanket. “After all, I’m your husband. Dragons never waver.”

~*~

Days later, the Council was supposed to be in the terms that Aemond will have an arranged marriage with one of the Baratheon girls at Storm’s End.

Aemond heard rumors on all of Borros’ daughters—all were pretty. Pretty face, pretty voice and pretty hair, postures poised in grace and elegance, all adorned in a shade of green to support the Greens.

“We should have Prince Aemond marry one of the Baratheon girls, to form alliance with us,” Tyland suggested. “At this rate, the Blacks won’t yield, not unless we have alliances to support us.”

Queen Alicent was too worried for their children to be slain by Princess Rhaenyra once she becomes Queen.

Ha! As if!

Queen Alicent wanted her son, Aegon, to seize the throne. Queen Alicent detested the lineage of incest and barbaric dragons that captured the nation. Valyria was never great of valuable importance to her; the late king had always talked and created the replica of Old Valyria. As magical and historical as it was, she didn’t care. Queen Alicent never cared for the subject that disinterest her, gladdened that the Valyrians, these barbaric riders and incestuous traditions must end. If Rhaenyra were to take the Crown, she might have an affair who looked like her uncle. She never cared for these barbaric riders, but she greatly cared for her children, as she always does, despite being the Queen subjected to counsel and aim for her people in Oldtown and King’s Landing.

And with the Faith of the Seven, she’ll pray to the Gods to wipe out their incestuous and dragon-fucking traditions.

“We must send him soon,” Tyland suggested. “The better numbers, the better chance for us to kill Rhaenyra and her children. We Aemond and Vhagar to rely on.”

Queen Alicent made a thoughtful look on her face, but something has changed with Aemond. So do you. Ever since you came here in King’s Landing, Aemond has been acting strangely. Despite not being able to attend her children on a daily basis, she knew that there’s an air about the one-eyed prince has shifted.

Your presence has somehow calmed him. And too possessive. The way he punched his own grandfather at a dinner table. And the whispers of the Dornish prince haven’t been back in Dorne at the night of the gathering, where he asked you for your hand.

Queen Alicent’s face contorted, but, in return, she remained composed and leaned back on the head council’s chair.

“I’ll speak with him,” she said, eyes glinted in subtle anger, divided between duties and dark hatred for the Targaryens and Aemond’s sudden shift.

She didn’t like it one bit.

~*~

After several days in honeymoon, you dressed up in more cobalt colors with layered frills and laces and golden pins and embroidery on your body. Since then, people in King’s Landing have thought of you as radiant and with your teal-colored eyes were sparkling, a silver ring rested on your ring finger.

For Aemond, he was proud he had eloped with a woman like you. For days, after his training session, without anyone finding out about your elope with him, he visited you whenever he can, and railed into you when he gets the chance, to taste you again, hoping for your belly to swell with his child.

That is until, his mother barged in informed him of the council, for him to marry one of Borros’ daughters.

His face contorted to grimace, disliked the idea. None of the women were pretty enough or could hold to a candle when it comes to your exceptional beauty and talents, and the kindness you’ve exuded.

“Aemond, you must marry,” Queen Alicent said.

“I have no desire of marrying one of his plain daughters. Ask Daeron,” he said with his arms crossed.

“What has changed, my son,” she wondered, trying to find a spot to where it hits.

“My mind has changed,” he said. “Please excuse me, I need to do my training session with Ser Criston. Ask Daeron instead. I’ve heard how he’s recently growing popular.”

When the door was shut, Queen Alicent could only do, but look, struck in paralyzation.

Aemond has becoming like Aegon, she thought, mentally accused.

She can’t her House have a great downfall.

And so she followed and discovered the secret to why Aemond refused.

The night was fast approaching.

As for you, as you lay asleep, in your silken gown, your stomach has been aching, clutching under the palm of your weak hand, dreaming about the voices and a misted view flashed before your eyes, wondering the nightmares will end.

With Aemond clambered onto your bed and slept beside you, bodies tangling one another. Then removing his trousers, you climbed onto his naked lap, and the silks of your nightgown hoisted around your waist as your wet cunt slipped his cock, bouncing. Your head threw back, sighing and screaming in pleasure, as the bed creaked at your wet arousal.

And Queen Alicent was in deep shock at the revelation, that one trait she despised greatly against the Targaryens.

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