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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days ago

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That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate.

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it?

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community.

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation.

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought.

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.”

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job.

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit.

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off.

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out.

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick.

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.”

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-”

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend.

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.”

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing.

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews.

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long.

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so.

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him.

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm.

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you.

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones.

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him.

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next.

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips.

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count.

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside.

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet.

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut

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anghimalaaynasapuso · 24 hours ago

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Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

#📌 simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #📥 mail

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shinebyeoli · 3 days ago

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A PIRATES NIGHT IN

✶PAIRING: Pirate! Hongjoong x Fem! Mate Reader (Ft. Ateez members)

✶WARNING: Smut, Mean dom! Hongjoong, BDSM (tying up), dacryphilia, oral sex (on reader), missionary, anal, doggy position, veiny cock Hongjoong, begging.

✶SUMMARY: After a long day on deck, you return to your cabin to find Captain Hongjoong waiting, mischief in his eyes. With rope in hand, he suggests something new—tying you up, testing your trust as the waves outside mirror the night’s rising tension.

✶WORD-COUNT: 5.4k

The door to the captain’s quarters groaned on its hinges as you stepped inside, the scent of aged oak and bergamot oil wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace. The lanterns casted a flickering golden light across the wooden walls, your eyes landed on him. Captain Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong. He stood silhouetted against the room’s lone porthole, the dying sun painting his brown mullet in molten, in his usual pirate attire—though slightly undone, like he had just rid himself of the day's burdens. The black shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a teasing glimpse of his collarbones and the silver chain resting against his skin. His captain’s coat, the signature deep red with gold embellishments, was draped lazily over the chair beside the bed. He didn’t turn, but you felt his awareness like a physical touch—the slight tilt of his head, the deliberate way he set down his rum goblet, the leather of his gloves creaking as he flexed his fingers.

“Took you long enough,” he drawled, finally pivoting to face you. His eyes—dark as a midnight strait—raked over your travel-stained clothes. “Did you stop to braid the fucking kelp on your way here?”

You rolled your eyes, kicking the door shut with your boot. “Your crew’s still unloading the crates. If you wanted me sooner, you should’ve carried me here yourself.”

His smirk was a blade unsheathed. “Careful, treasure. I might take you up on that.”

The room seemed to shrink as he closed the distance between you, his boots thudding against the floorboards in a rhythm that matched your suddenly erratic pulse. He stopped a hair’s breadth away, the heat of him seeping through your shirt, his gaze dropping to your parted lips.

“You’re late,” he murmured, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “I don’t tolerate lateness.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, stepping further into the room, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath your black boots. “Unlike you, I actually had work to do,” you shot back, unfastening the belt that held your own weapons before setting it aside. “Not all of us get to lounge around looking pretty.”

Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, shifting slightly so there was more space on the bed. “First of all,” he started, tilting his head, “I do not just ‘lounge around.’ I lead. I strategize, sweetie.” His smirk widened. “And second… you think I look pretty?”

You rolled your eyes again, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Shut up.”

“But I missed you, my sweet girl,” he drawled, voice like aged rum—sweet, smoky, and laced with venom. His smirk widened as you rolled your eyes. “Did the crew finally drive you to mutiny? Or were you savoring the anticipation aswell?”

You unfastened your weapon belt with a huff, letting it slump to the floor beside his discarded boots. “San tried to teach Mingi how to juggle daggers. They nearly took out Yeosang’s eye.”

Hongjoong’s laugh was low, a velvet rasp that prickled the hairs on your neck. “And you intervened, of course. My noble first mate.” He patted the bed beside him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he shifted. “Come. Let me soothe your righteous fury.”

“Soothe?” You arched a brow but sat onto the bed, the wood groaning beneath you. “You’ll need more than pretty words to fix this mood.”

He walked towards you, his arms across his chest as that dangerous smirk was still plastered across his face.. He backed you up against the wall, you were short compared to him.. “such a pretty girl, aren't ya?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but his kiss stole the words—a claiming, all teeth and rum-sweet hunger. His hands fisted in your shirt, yanking you flush against him, the hard line of his cock already pressing insistently against your stomach. You clawed at his coat, desperate for skin, but he gripped your wrists and spun you around, pinning you face-first against the wall.

“Impatient,” he chided, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His knee nudged your legs apart, his erection grinding against your ass. “You think I’ll let you come that easy? After you made me wait?”

You squirmed, but his grip tightened, the leather of his gloves biting into your flesh. “Hongjoong—”

“Captain,” he corrected, nipping your earlobe. “Say it.”

“Fuck you—”

He ground his hips harder, drawing a whimper from your throat. “Say. It.”

“Captain,” you gasped.

“Better.” He released you abruptly, stepping back. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, your back scraping the rough wood as you faced him. His eyes burned with predatory intent, his fingers already working the buckles of his gloves.

“Strip.”

The command hung in the air, heavy as a stormcloud. You hesitated, your fingers trembling at the hem of your shirt.

Hongjoong arched a brow. “Need help?”

The dagger appeared in his hand before you could blink—a sleek sliver of steel that glinted wickedly in the fading light. You froze as he stepped closer, the blade’s cold edge skating up your sternum to rest beneath your chin.

“Hold still,” he purred, dragging the tip downward. The razor-sharp point caught the laces of your shirt, slicing through them with a soft snick. The fabric fell open, baring your chest to the salt-tinged air. His gaze darkened, the dagger dipping lower to hook into your waistband.

“These too,” he murmured, severing the ties with a flick of his wrist. Your trousers pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

You moved to cover yourself, but he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Ah-ah. Let me look at you.” His eyes raked over your exposed skin—the heave of your breasts, the goosebumps rising on your stomach, the damp patch already darkening your underthings. “Fuck,” he breathed, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Look at you. Half-undressed and already dripping for me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with a kiss—deep, devouring, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a growl that vibrated through your bones. When he pulled back, your lips throbbed, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Bed,” he ordered, nodding toward the massive four-poster dominating the room. “Now.”

You stumbled backward, your legs hitting the mattress as he retrieved something from a brass-bound chest—thick coils of rope, their surfaces gleaming like polished onyx.

“Silk-infused hemp,” he said, running the strands through his fingers. “Stole it from a Venetian pleasure barge. Strong enough to hold a mast…” His eyes met yours, a challenge sparking in their depths. “…soft enough to make you beg.”

Your throat tightened, heat pooling low in your belly. “Y- you want to tie me up?”

He prowled closer, the ropes slithering across the sheets like serpents. “I want to ruin you.” His palm slid up your inner thigh, calluses catching on sensitive skin. “I want you spread open and shaking, screaming my name so loud the fucking kraken hears it.” His fingers brushed your soaked smallclothes, drawing a gasp from your lips. “What do you say, treasure?”

You swallowed, your pulse roaring in your ears. “Wh- what’s the safeword?”

“Calypso,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your racing pulse. “But you won’t need it.”

“Arrogant bastard..”

The ropes cut off your retort, cool and firm as they looped around your left wrist. Hongjoong worked with a sailor’s precision, his fingers deftly knotting a modified square hitch before securing it to the bedpost. The hemp bit into your skin just shy of pain, the sensation oddly grounding.

“Testing,” you muttered, tugging at the bonds.

He smirked, already securing your right wrist. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

By the time he’d lashed your ankles to the footboard, spread eagle and utterly vulnerable, your breath came in shallow bursts. The ropes framed you like a forbidden manuscript—every secret laid bare, every tremor documented. Hongjoong stepped back, his gaze ravenous as it swept over your exposed body.

“Perfect,” he rasped, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fucking perfect.”

He stood up from the bed and undressed with agonizing slowness, each revealed inch of skin a provocation. The bandanna came first, followed by his shirt—buttons slipping free to reveal sun-kissed muscle and a tapestry of scars. Your mouth watered as he hooked his thumbs into his trousers, sliding them down his hips with a groan of relief.

“See something you like?” he purred, fully erect and unashamed.

You didn’t dignify him with a reply, but your traitorous gaze lingered on the thick length of him—flushed and heavy, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. He chuckled, crawling onto the bed with predatory grace, his knees bracketing your thighs.

“You’ll get your fill,” he promised, lips grazing your collarbone. “When I’m done with you.”

His mouth was a brand, searing a path down your body. He lingered at your breasts, sucking bruises into the tender flesh until your back arched off the mattress.

“Stay still,” he ordered, pressing a palm to your stomach.

You whimpered, the ropes creaking as you fought the urge to grind against his thigh. He smirked, nipping the inside of your knee.

“Needy little thing,” he taunted, breath hot against your inner thigh. “All this fuss over a taste?”

Before you could say anything, He scooted down, His head going in between your thighs as his tongue licked a stripe up your slit, and the world dissolved.

The ropes creak as you strain against them, your back arching off the sweat-damp sheets, but Hongjoong doesn’t relent. His mouth is a brand, searing a path up the inside of your thigh with deliberate slowness, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin just hard enough to make you whimper. He pauses at the junction of your hip, teeth grazing the fluttering pulse there, and you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper.

“P- please..” You whisper out, whining as you throw your head back from the pleasure and the teasing.

His laugh is a dark, velvet rasp against your skin. “Please what, treasure?” He drags his tongue along the crease where your thigh meets your core, inhaling sharply at the scent of your arousal. “Use your words.”

You choke back a sob, the ropes biting into your wrists as you try—and fail—to grind against his face. He tsks, gripping your hips and slamming you back down against the mattress.

“None of that,” he murmurs, his breath a hot tease against your soaked folds. “You’ll take what I give you. When I give it.” His thumbs hook into your inner thighs, spreading you wider, and the cool sea air licks at your exposed flesh. “Look at this,” he growls, dragging a single finger through your slickness. “Dripping for me like a common tavern whore.. Disgraceful.”

The insult coils hot in your belly, your hips jerking involuntarily. Hongjoong’s eyes flash, and before you can react, his mouth is on you—devouring you—tongue lapping at your clit with broad, relentless strokes. You cry out, the sound echoing off the cabin walls, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t soften. His nose grinds against your clit as he laps at your entrance, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

“Hongjoong—!”

He pulls back just enough to growl against your skin, “Captain.” His teeth graze your clit, the threat implicit, and you shudder violently.

“Captain,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Please, I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupts, nipping your inner thigh. “And you will.” His tongue plunges into you without warning, fucking you in deep, filthy strokes that leave you clawing at the ropes. You’re distantly aware of the bedposts groaning, of the ship itself seeming to rock harder against the waves as he works you over. His free hand slides up your stomach, calloused fingers pinching your nipple roughly, and you scream, the dual sensations coiling the tension in your belly to a breaking point.

“That’s it,” he rasps against your cunt, his voice vibrating through your core. “Fucking scream for me. Let the whole crew hear what a greedy little thing you are.” He seals his lips around your clit again, sucking hard, and your vision whites out—

Just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops. Your entire body seizes, a broken sob tearing from your throat. “What?- W- why'd you stop?”

Hongjoong sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting with malice. “Did I say you could cum?”

You’re trembling violently, tears pricking your eyes. “Please,” you beg, your voice raw. “I need... I need to—”

“You need nothing,” he snaps, crawling up your body to loom over you. His cock brushes against your thigh, hard and leaking, but he makes no move to enter you. “You’re mine. Your pleasure is mine to give. To take.” He grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, your chest heaving. He smirks, trailing a finger down your throat to circle your nipple. “Use your words, pet.”

“Y-yes,” you stammer. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl...” The praise is a caress, a poison, and you whimper as he dips his head to suck your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicks the hardened peak, his teeth grazing it just shy of pain, and you arch into him, desperate for friction. But he pulls away again, leaving you gasping.

“So needy,” he taunts, sliding back down your body. His breath ghosts over your clit, and you jerk against the ropes, a broken plea spilling from your lips.

“Joong, please.. I can't hold it!” You continue to beg but he ignores you, his tongue instead tracing slow, torturous circles around your clit. Not touching it. Not quite. You’re writhing now, tears streaming down your face, your entire body strung tight as a bow.

“Captain,” you sob, “I’ll—I’ll do anything, please—”

“Anything?” He pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. The sight is obscene—his lips glistening with your arousal, his hair mussed, his eyes black with hunger. “Beg.”

You choke on a whimper. “Please let me come. Please, I—I can’t take it—”

“You can,” he purrs, lazily dipping his head to lap at your entrance. “And you will.” His tongue fucks into you again, deep and rhythmic, and you’re sobbing openly now, your thighs shaking as he brings you to the edge once more. Just as you’re about to break, he withdraws, blowing a cold stream of air over your throbbing clit.

You scream, the sound raw and guttural, your hips bucking wildly against the ropes. Hongjoong laughs, low and dark, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Pathetic,” he murmurs, though his voice is thick with arousal. “All this fuss over a little tongue.” His fingers replace his mouth, two digits sliding into you with ease. “Look at you,” he croons, curling his fingers upward to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside you. “Taking my fingers like you were made for it.”

You’re babbling now—pleas, curses, fragments of his name—as he scissors his fingers, stretching you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, rapid circles, and your entire body bows off the bed.

“Such a pathetic whore, arent you? Being late on purpose, probably flirting with the crew? Hm?” He teases you more and more. You couldn't take it, tears started to roll down your cheeks from pain and pleasure. “Cum.”

The command snaps the last thread of your control. You shatter with a scream, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as the orgasm rips through you. Hongjoong fucks you through it, his fingers unrelenting, his thumb still working your clit until you’re sobbing from oversensitivity.

As you squirt on his face, he swallows everything. Just as you thought he was done, he dives back in. His hands are iron clamps on your hips, pinning you to the mattress as his mouth works you open. You writhe, the ropes sawing into your wrists and ankles, but he doesn’t relent. His tongue is a blade, a lash, a supplicant’s prayer—lapping at your clit with short, vicious flicks that leave you gasping. He slows every time you near the edge, switching to long, languid strokes that skirt the nerve-rich bud entirely. You’re slick with sweat and arousal, the sheets beneath you soaked through, but he only groans against your cunt, his nose grinding into your clit as he inhales you.

He ignores your plea, his lips sealing around your entrance to suck hard. The sudden pressure wrings a scream from your throat, your hips jerking wildly, but he pins you down, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. You’re split open, exposed, his breath scalding the parts of you that ache, and when he finally draws your clit between his teeth, you sob, your vision fracturing.

You cum with a shattered cry, your cunt tightening around his fingers, your liquid gushing out. He growls, redoubling his efforts, his tongue lapping at your clit as he fucks you through the aftershocks. You’re begging now, nonsensical pleas spilling from your lips, but he doesn’t stop. Not until you’re limp, your body twitching with oversensitivity.

You let out a lewd whine as he withdraws immediately, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a vicious kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, bitter and sweet, as he grinds his cock against your hip.

“You did s'good for me,” He smirks, crawling up your body to kiss you—deep, possessive, your taste sharp on his tongue. When he pulls back, his voice is a wreck. “Now you’ll take my cock.”

The air was thick with the stench of sex and salt, your body a trembling canvas of sweat and spit and the metallic tang of blood from where you’ve bitten through your lip. Hongjoong looms above you, his chest heaving, the muscles in his arms flexing as he braces himself against the bedposts. His cock glistens with your arousal, veins pulsing along its length like ropes under storm-strained sails, the flushed head dripping precum onto your quivering stomach. He doesn’t give you time to breathe. Doesn’t let you think. One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he notches himself at your entrance.

“Look at me,” he commands, voice graveled and raw.

You obey, your vision blurred with tears, but he doesn’t wait for your focus to sharpen. He slams into you in a single, brutal thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt. The stretch burns, your walls clamping down around him instinctively, but he growls, low and feral, his hips already pistoning into you with a rhythm that rattles the bedframe.

“Fuck!” you choke out, the pain-pleasure sparking through your nerves like cannonfire.

Hongjoong’s hand slides down to grip your throat, his thumb pressing against your windpipe just enough to make your vision swim. “You’ll take it,” he snarls, his pace unrelenting. “Take every inch. Beg for it.”

You can’t. The words die in your throat as he angles his hips, the head of his cock grinding against that sweet, deep spot inside you. Your back arches, a broken moan tearing from your lips, but his hand clamps over your mouth, stifling the sound.

“Quiet,” he hisses, his breath hot against your ear. “You want the whole crew to hear how desperate you are? To know their captain’s reduced you to a sobbing, dripping whore?” His hips snap harder, the slap of skin echoing off the wooden walls. “Maybe I’ll let them watch. Let them see you choke on my cock when I’m done wrecking this greedy cunt.”

You shake your head wildly, tears spilling over his fingers, but he only laughs, the sound dark and unhinged. His free hand finds your breast, pinching your nipple between thumb and forefinger with cruel precision. You scream against his palm, the dual sensations of agony and ecstasy coiling your orgasm tight in your belly.

“That’s it,” he croons, releasing your nipple to slap your cheek—not hard, but enough to make your head snap to the side. “Come for me. Let me feel that pretty cunt milk my cock.”

You’re sobbing openly now, your hips grinding up to meet his thrusts, your body betraying you as pleasure overrides shame. He feels it—the way your walls flutter, the way your legs tremble—and he grins, animalistic like a predator hunting its prey.

Your orgasm rips through you like a hurricane, your pussy clenched down on him in violent pulses. Hongjoong curses, his rhythm faltering as he fucks you through it, his own release building. You feel him swell, feel the hot spill of his cum flooding your womb, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. His hand leaves your mouth to grip your hip, his nails breaking skin as he drags you onto his cock over and over, milking himself dry inside you.

“Fuck,” he snarls, his voice cracking. “Fuck, look at you... s'ruined. All Mine.”

You can’t speak. Can’t think. Your body is a live wire, every nerve pulsing, but he’s already pulling out, his cum dripping down your thighs as he flips you onto your stomach. The ropes bite into your wrists as he yanks your hips up, your ass exposed to the damp, salt-tinged air. You feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against your asshole, and panic lances through you.

“C-captain— wait-” You whine out but he doesn't listen to you. You were his. His prisoner, his mate, his treasure.

The spit he drags over his cock is a cold, insufficient warning before he’s pushing in, the stretch burning, your scream piercing the humid air. Hongjoong slaps your ass hard, the crack of his palm against your skin drowning your cry.

“Take it,” he demands, sinking deeper, the burn bordering on unbearable. “Take every inch, you greedy slut”

You suck in a ragged gasp, your fingers clawing at the sheets as he bottoms out, your ass clenching around him in shocked pulses. He groans, low and wrecked, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Shit,” he rasps, dragging out slowly before slamming back in. “Tighter than your cunt. So perfect...”

The pain bleeds into pleasure as he sets a relentless pace, your body yielding to him with every thrust. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back to arch your spine, his mouth latching onto the nape of your neck. You feel his teeth break skin, the sting sharp and bright, as he fucks into you with punishing force.

“Hongjoong” you sob, the honorific mangled by a scream as he slams into your g-spot.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice guttural. “Taking my cock so well. Filthy girl.” His hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your clit, and you jolt, oversensitive and raw. “Cum again,” he orders, rubbing tight circles as he pounds into you. “Now.”

You can’t. You’re empty, wrung out, but his fingers are merciless, his cock stoking the embers of your ruined nerves. You scream, a hoarse, broken sound, as another orgasm tears through you, your ass clenching around him in rhythmic spasms. Hongjoong roars, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you a second time, his cum hot and thick as he pumps you full.

He collapses over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, his lips grazing your ear. “You think I’m finished with you?” he murmurs, his hand sliding up to grip your throat. “You’ll take me all night. Until you forget your own name.”

His cock, still hard, still insatiable, slides back into your cunt with a wet, filthy sound. You choke on a sob, your body trembling as he starts again. You were so worn out. But you could take it, you weren't going to use your safe word.

The salt-stung breeze licks your sweat-slicked skin as Hongjoong pins you against the ship’s weathered rail, your back pressed to his chest, his cock buried to the hilt in your ass. The horizon bleeds into dawn, streaks of gold and violet staining the sky, but all you see are the white-knuckled grips of your hands on the rail, the way your trembling thighs glisten with a slick mix of his cum and yours. He doesn’t fuck you—he unmakes you. Each drag of his cock is a slow, sadistic withdrawal, the swollen head catching on your rim before he slams back in, the force knocking a broken sob from your throat.

“Quieter,” he rasps in your ear, one hand fisted in your hair, the other palming your throat. “Or should I let the tide have your screams?”

You choke on the threat, your hips grinding back against him instinctively, greedy for the burn. “N-no sir... I-i'll be a good girl.” He rewards you with his signature laugh, dark and velvety, his teeth sinking into the side of your shoulder. The pain is bright, grounding, and you whimper as he releases his grip on your hair to slide his hand down your stomach, calloused fingers finding your clit.

“Pathetic,” he murmurs, circling the swollen bud with agonizing slowness. “Begging for my cock in your ass while your cunt drips for it.” His thumb presses down hard, and your vision whites out, your body seizing around him.

You shatter silently, your mouth gaping in a soundless scream as the orgasm rips through you once more. Hongjoong groans, his hips stuttering as your ass clenches around him, but he doesn’t spill. Not yet. He withdraws abruptly, leaving you empty and trembling, and spins you to face him. Your back hits the rail, the sea roaring below, and he hauls your leg over his hip, his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Taste,” he orders as he pulls your hair back, smearing your arousal across your tongue. “Taste what a slut you are for me.”

The bitterness of your cum mixes with the salt on your lips, and you gag, but he doesn’t relent. He shoves two fingers into your mouth, fucking your throat in time with his cock, and your moans vibrate around his knuckles.

“That’s it,” he praises, his voice ragged. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He spills down your throat first, his fingers holding your jaw open as he pumps his cum onto your tongue. You swallow reflexively, tears streaming down your face, but he’s not done. He withdraws his fingers, drags you to your knees, and slaps his cock against your lips.

“Clean it,” he growls, his grip tight in your hair.

You lap at him, kitten-weak, your tongue swirling around the head to collect the mess of your mixed fluids. He hisses, his hips jerking forward, and you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as he fucks your mouth with shallow thrusts. The deck groans beneath you, the ship swaying as if caught in the storm of his hunger, and when he finally pulls away, you collapse against his thighs, gasping.

The world softens to a honeyed haze, the only sound the ragged sync of your breaths and the distant creak of the ship settling into the embrace of the sea. Hongjoong collapses beside you, his chest heaving, sweat-slick skin gluing your bodies together where they touch. His hand finds yours in the tangle of sheets, fingers interlacing with a gentleness that feels foreign after hours of brutality. You flinch when his thumb brushes over the raw marks left by the ropes, and he stills, his breath catching.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, not a command but a plea.

You turn your head, your cheek sticky with dried tears. His face is a ruin—lips swollen from biting back his own noises, hair matted to his forehead, eyes dark and human. Not the pirate captain. Not the monster. Just a man.

He cups your face, his touch featherlight, as if you might dissolve under anything firmer. “Did I—” He stops, throat bobbing. “You okay, treasure?”

You nod, your voice a shredded thing. His exhale trembles. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips. “Good,” he whispers, the word fraying at the edges. “Good.”

You don’t realize you’re crying again until he swipes a tear away with his thumb. He kisses the damp trail it leaves, his lips lingering at your temple, then the hinge of your jaw, then the pulse point of your throat—each press an apology, a vow, a reminder. His hand skims down your body, mapping the bruises, the bite marks, the places where his greed left you trembling. When his fingers graze your abused cunt, you jerk, a whimper slipping out.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tucking your head under his chin. “You're okay.” His voice cracks. “You did so good for me, darling..”

The silence stretches, the ship’s timbers groaning like an old lover. Moonlight spills through the cabin window, painting silver stripes over Hongjoong’s scars, the flex of his biceps as he reaches for a waterskin. He lifts your head gently, trickling cool liquid over your lips. You drink greedily, choking slightly, and he hushes you, his palm rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades.

You nuzzle into his throat, inhaling the musk of sex and sea salt, and his breath hitches. His hand drifts lower, fingertips skating over the curve of your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promises, voice low and dangerous. “Tomorrow, I’ll fuck you against the figurehead. Let the entire crew hear how well you take me. Let them see.”

A shiver races down your spine. "You're so mean!" You giggle, but he silences you with a kiss, slow and deep and tender, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips like he’s memorizing you.

“Sleep,” He smiles, rolling to pin you beneath him, his weight a familiar anchor. His nose nudges yours, his breath warm.

You want to fight it. Want to claw the exhaustion from your bones and reignite the fire he’s reduced to embers. But your body betrays you, sinking into the mattress, your limbs heavy as cannon shot. Hongjoong tugs a fur-lined blanket over you both, his arms banded around your waist, his heartbeat a steady drum against your back.

“My baby,” he murmurs into your hair, the word slurring with sleep.

You want to correct him. Want to snarl that he’s yours, that every scar, every roar, every drop of blood in his veins belongs to you now. But sleep drags you under, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers still loosely curled around your wrist—a claim even in rest.

The next morning, Hongjoong kicks the meeting room door open with his boot, you cradled in his arms like a half-sacked treasure. His shirt hangs off your frame inside-out, the sleeves knotted at your wrists, and your hair resembles a bird’s nest after a typhoon. The crew freezes—Yunho with a treasure chest in his hands, Wooyoung mid-sip of coffee, Yeosang’s eyebrow twitching like a loaded pistol.

“Morning,” Hongjoong declares, plopping you into his captain’s chair at the head of the table.

Seonghwa leans back, folding his arms. “So. Dress code’s just… non-existent now?”

Hongjoong shrugs, stealing a piece of toast from Jongho’s hand. “Dress code’s whatever I say it is.”

Mingi, sprawled in his seat with dark circles rivaling a raccoon’s, raises his coffee mug. “Well, I had a fantastic sleep. So restful. Barely heard a thing.” His voice drips theatrical sarcasm. “Just… waves. Birds. The occasional shrieking—”

The table explodes. Jongho snorts tea out his nose, San slaps Mingi’s shoulder hard enough to bruise, and even Seonghwa cracks a smile. You’re wheezing, clutching the table’s edge, when Hongjoong mutters, “Traitors, all of you,” though his grin betrays him.

Wooyoung wipes tears from his eyes. “Captain’s gone full romantic! Next he’ll be writing sonnets!”

“Sonnets?” Hongjoong lobs a grape at him. “I’ll sonnet your skull—”

You grab his wrist, still giggling. “Stop, you’re making it worse.”

He pauses, then leans down, voice a rumble only you hear. “You started this.”

“And I’ll finish it,” you whisper back, tugging his crooked collar straight.

The crew erupts in exaggerated gagging sounds. Seonghwa tosses a sugar cube at Hongjoong’s head. “Get a cabin.”

“This is my ship,” Hongjoong fires back, but he’s already lifting you again, chair and all, ignoring the uproar as he carries you toward the door.

“Meeting adjourned!” you call over his shoulder, grinning at the chaos.

Their laughter follows you down the hall—a raucous, sunlit rebellion—as Hongjoong mutters about mutiny, his arms unshakably steady around you. God, this was going to be a long day...

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #ateez hongjoong #ateez kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #pirate hongjoong x reader #pirate hongjoong #pirate ateez #hongjoong smut #hongjoong #kpop #kpop smut #smut #kpop fyp #fyp

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imsofreakingtired · 2 days ago

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Hi! First of all, I love your work so much, you have me crying and kicking my feet at the same time.

I'd like to put in a request for a plus-sized reader? If that's something you can do. Something about yearning from afar? She's so sweet and Sev's so not. She's worried she'd taint the pure soul she watches from across the bar only to find out the lamb wants the wolf just as bad.

(I low-key just want some plus-sized rep :/)

SUCH A CUTE REQ AAA also, “the lamb wants the wolf just as bad” WHAT A LINE HELLO??? i hope i did it justice 🙏

i wish i found love

content warning(s): none! just fluff, mutual pining, useless lesbians, mild suggestive content, happy ending

"sometimes i wonder if you'll ever let me in i wonder if i'm ever gonna find somebody i cry and i cry and i cry and i cry out to the heavens why won't you just send me somebody?"

Sevika is sure she is going insane.

She’d be lying if she said you didn’t catch her eye the moment you walked into the Last Drop that one night. There was something about the way you moved, the ringing song of your laughter that found its way across the room to her ears—a sound she desperately tried to ignore as she scowled down at her card game, puffing away at her third cigarette. She had lost two rounds in a row because she was straining for scraps of the conversation you were in. Trying every possible subtle tactic to find out who you were, where you came from. Cursing the noises of a late night bar that drowned out what you were saying.

Tonight is like most—there you are, sitting with a new companion on the other side of the bar, perfectly manicured nails tapping idly on the side of your glass as you give the other person a winning smile. When you stand up to order a second drink, Sevika watches your movements and swallows hard. You’re wearing a blouse and pants that hug your figure, showing off every curve in the shifting neon lights of the Last Drop. Making the very air around you look expensive.

And your eyes. Fathomless yet bright. The innocent curl of your lips when you give the lucky bastard across the table one of those smiles. The secrets sitting in the corners of your mouth.

Who is she?

“Hey chief,” says Grems, one of her gambling mates. “You’re showin’ all your cards.”

She glances at him. “Round’s over.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Clear out.”

The men exchange glances with one another, but they obey, grabbing up their winnings. Sevika sits back in her chair and lights another cigarette.

✨—✨

At the bar, you lean closer and beckon to Chuck. He comes over, glancing nervously in Sevika’s direction. Everyone can already see that Sevika has claimed you as hers—they can see the way she watches you, the way she raises her head to attention when she sees you come into the bar. But when he looks over at Sevika, she turns her head away.

“Chuck,” you say. “Don’t look so scared. She’s staring at me again, isn’t she?”

“Uh…”

You give him the irresistible smile you throw at strangers from whom you need information. He falls for it.

“C’mon, tell me. Who is she?”

“She…she’s Silco’s right hand,” he stammers. “You know. The Brute.”

You sigh impatiently. “Gotta give me better than that. What’s her name.”

“Sevika.”

“Sevika,” you muse. “Thanks, Chuck.” You pat him on the shoulder and take your drink. You make sure to walk the long way round back to your table, and you can feel Sevika’s grey eyes burn in front of you. Just as you pass her, you tilt your head and let your eyes make contact with hers. Time seems to slow down. She looks at you cooly through the cigarette smoke, but her surprise shows in the way her brows lift slightly.

Then the moment passes, you sit back down at your table.

Your companion continues the conversation, but you barely hear a third of what they’re saying. Your thoughts keep wandering over to Sevika, who has left her tab on her table and now disappeared up the stairs. You know for sure she’s interested—she’s been watching you since you first began to frequent the Last Drop—why hasn’t she made a move?

✨—✨

The truth is that Sevika is scared to approach you.

That’s right, she thinks to herself, a wry smile on her face as she leans back into the couch in her empty apartment, slightly sweaty after touching herself to you, heart racing in her chest. Sevika of the fucking fissures, scared to talk to a woman as if she's some adolescent.

She has borne the title Brute of the Underground like an afterthought, something she took for granted, a kind of placard to frame over the blood on her hands. But now it feels like a curse or a jinx, because she can’t think of your soft skin without thinking of the roughness of her own. She wants to feel your body against hers, she wants to kneel and drown in your sweet scent. But then she thinks of your laugh. The way you smile, nose wrinkling.

How could she ever deserve to receive a smile like that?

She imagines you recoiling from her, disgust clouding your pretty features. She imagines herself, massive and clumsy—nothing but muscle and scars and callused skin. She compares herself to you in a fantasized mirror and she can’t see a possibility of you ever wanting her the way she wants you.

One night she is at her usual table, alone for once, making adjustments to her mechanical arm. A glass of whiskey sits among the tools and ashtray. She looks up listlessly as she takes a sip, returns to her work. When she looks up again you’re standing in front of her.

Sevika nearly chokes. You’ve caught her off-guard, and you can see it. You can’t help but smile at her obvious embarrassment.

“Mind me sitting here?”

Without waiting for a reply, you sit down across from her.

“I work nearby,” you say matter-of-factly. “I was thinking since you come here often as well, maybe we could have a drink together every now and then.”

“Uh,” says Sevika.

“Name’s Sevika, right? I’ve gotta run now, but can I claim you tomorrow night?”

“Um.”

You take that as a yes. As you walk by her, she can smell the sweet scent of your hair. She doesn’t see the triumphant smile on your face as you leave the bar. She also realizes too late that she never got your name.

✨—✨

-> thank you @practicalgauntlet for the request! -> dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

#curvy women you are the goddesses that walk this mortal planet #i love u and sevika does too xx #song: i wish by hayley kiyoko #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika fluff #soft sevika #sevika #arcane #plus sized reader #femme reader

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seaborgium-dazies · 2 days ago

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call me baby ♡ mdni

how mha boys praise you praise kink, established relationship, f!reader, dirty talk (puppy, princess, good girl), p in v, oral f!receiving 🌊: deku, bakugo, shoto, kirishima

deku:

I think it goes without saying that deku loves calling you puppy. He sprinkles a mix of darling, love and dear into his daily use of pet names as well. 'Puppy' is something very private to him; something meant just for him and you; something that lays both of you completely bare. And we all know how rambly deku gets when he's nervous or excited, you can bet your ass it's even more amplified when he's horny.

When deku came home after evening patrol completely spent you could practically feel the exhaustion dripping off of him and pooling on the floor around him. You hated seeing him like this and you knew you had to help him somehow. It didn't take long until you were on top of him bouncing and grinding to your hearts content. You made quick work of deku and soon enough he was trying his hardest to hold onto what was left of his sanity. "Puppy, you feel s'good" he slurs as your hips rock against his. He could barely keep his green eyes open and yet he couldn't stop praising you. "You're so so good to me puppy, taking me so well, ahh~". Even when his mind was wiped blank the love he held for you was so prominent that his tongue was doing somersaults, carefully stringing words of praise together "You're doing so good for me puppy. You feel haaah~ amazing. Keep going puppy, puppy-". His rambling came to a halt only as his muscles spasmed and his head fell back in a silent cry. But he was quick to pick up again after he came back to his senses, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves you <3

bakugo:

Bakugo may seem like a person who doesn't praise at all but in reality he's a sucker for it. In the beginning it would really require some emotional work from him though because admitting how much he cares for you and how important you are to him is incredibly hard for him. It's something he struggles with but after he gets used to being vulnerable with you he can't stop praising you. Especially when you're having sensual sex the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

You were going at it for what felt like hours and yet it was only your second round. Bakugos cock was pistoning in and out of you with speed that left you unable to speak. Your whines and moans fell like oil into the fire that is Katsuki Bakugos ego. "Yeah? You like that?" Katsuki asks breathlessly. Your reply made entirely of moans only earns a cocky chuckle. "You're taking me so well baby, just like that, yeah". He hungrily stares at the space where you two are connected, eager to get more moans out of you he starts circling your clit. "Just like that baby, just let loose for me princess". You couldn't help but throw your head back as he settled on the perfect pace. You couldn't help but wonder if someone had given him an instruction manual on how to make you cum with the way that he's working your buttons. "Eyes on me pretty princess" he says as he gently guides your face back "That's a good girl". And with one more flick of your clit your orgasm washes over you, bakugos voice still echoing through your head.

shoto:

At first shoto was very new to dirty talk but after you tried it out on him and he enjoyed it a lot he decided he wanted to be able to make you feel that way too. His gentle and kind nature translates to this aspect as well and and his dirty talk is very literal.

It took shoto mere seconds to figure out that something was bothering you. Although you tried to hide it as to not alarm or bother him, you weren't too surprised that he had you pegged so quickly. Shoto coaxed your troubles out of you, and as he heard that you couldn't help but feel undesirable and unattractive his brows furrowed. Luckily he knew exactly how to convince you of the opposite. His tongue was lapping at your folds and obscene slurping sounds filled the air. "Your pretty pussy tastes so good, mmmm". The vibration of shotos groan made you moan. He pulled away with a dopey smile and spoke with a voice so sweet it was practically dripping honey. "Look at you all splayed out for me, I've never seen anything more beautiful, you take my breath away baby". And just like that, as if he didn't just bring tears to your eyes with his words he ducked down and sucked on your clit like there was no tomorrow.

kirishima:

Kirishima is already kissing the ground you walk on in everyday life so it's no surprise that he's showering you with praise in the bedroom as well. Really it'd be a surprise if someone were to date him and NOT develop a praise kink. He maneuvers his way around words like a champion, alternating between sickly sweet and downright nasty.

Kirishima considered it a miracle that the two of you had a day off work that actually lined up. He didn't remember the last time that had happened. He was up and dripping with sweat from his morning run as you were still sound asleep. A quick shower later he stepped out of the fogged up room to hear you humming in the kitchen. He saw you making yourself a cup of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter in nothing but panties and an oversized shirt. He took a good thirty seconds to just watch your ass gently bounce as you were bobbing your head to the song from the radio, almost salivating at the way your flesh spilled out of your panties. You heard a soft "Baby you're killing me" from the hallway. You just had to chuckle when you saw kirishima, palming his boner. The effect you had on him was truly undeniable. You curled your finger, beckoning him to come and kirishima was on you in an instant. His tongue was working miracles on your neck and every time he stopped to breathe, he leaned in close and whispered something sinfully sweet into your ear. As if your mind wasn't hazy enough as you heard him "Such a good girl for me, so perfect". Your knees were about to give out as kirishima scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your bed. You couldn't deny that he was your demise as well as your salvation.

all characters aged up

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

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casedclosedbye · 2 days ago

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Closer

Spencer reid x reader oneshot fluff

Wc: 1k

Summary: You say across from spencer when you usually sit beside him during dates

It had been a long week for Spencer Reid. The BAU had been running nonstop, cases back-to-back, with barely a moment to breathe. But now, as the weekend arrived, it was time for his favorite part of the week—his date with you.

It was a tradition at this point. Every Friday, you’d both go to that quiet little cafe downtown, the one with the cozy booths and the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the air. Spencer loved those moments. Not for the food—though he did enjoy it—but for the time he got to spend with you, the person he cherished more than anything else in the world.

You had been dating for a while now, and the routine was simple. He would always sit beside you in the booth, his long fingers gently wrapped around yours as he talked about his day. It was always the same, and yet, every time felt like a new adventure in itself, hearing him speak with that curious excitement about the latest case or random facts he’d picked up from his research. It was comforting, familiar, and perfect.

But tonight was different.

You sat down across from him, without thinking much about it. You were still adjusting your jacket when you took your seat, completely unaware of how it made Spencer feel.

At first, he didn’t say anything. He just smiled that warm, shy smile of his, his eyes flickering down at the table before glancing up at you. The conversation began like it always did, about a case he had been working on, but it felt... distant.

The space between you felt strange, like a gap he didn’t know how to bridge.

You didn’t notice anything was off, but Spencer was growing increasingly uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you; it was that he *did*—he always did—but something felt wrong when you weren’t sitting beside him. He was used to the closeness, the soft weight of your hand in his. He craved it, needed it even.

He tried to focus on his words, explaining a complex case, but his mind kept wandering. He wanted to reach across the table and hold your hand, feel your fingers intertwining with his, but it felt... wrong, in a way. It felt like a boundary had been drawn without him meaning for it to happen.

His leg bounced under the table, a nervous habit he’d developed when he was agitated, but tonight it seemed worse. He looked up at you, seeing the concerned, attentive look in your eyes as you listened to him. You were there, your focus entirely on him, but the physical space between you was heavier than he’d expected.

You tilted your head slightly. “Spence, is everything okay? You seem… a little distracted.”

He blinked, snapping out of his internal spiral. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, without really thinking, you reached for the salt shaker on the table. You were only inches from his hand, but it felt like miles. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your movements, how his hand clenched slightly by his side.

“I didn’t realize,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “but... I... um, I usually sit next to you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Spencer shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the edge of his glass, and he struggled to find the right words. “I mean, usually, we... sit next to each other. And I just... feel closer to you that way.”

You blinked, the realization dawning on you, and you smiled softly, feeling the tiniest flicker of guilt in your chest. “Oh, Spence. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it.”

He shrugged a little, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but his cheeks flushed just a hint. “It’s okay, it’s just... I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.” He hesitated, his eyes glancing at your hand, almost like he was afraid to ask. “I guess... I like being close to you. Even if I’m a little... um, well, a bit of a germaphobe, sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. Spencer’s vulnerability was one of the things you loved most about him. He was so incredibly intelligent, yet sometimes he had this shy, almost childlike way of revealing his true feelings.

Slowly, you slid your chair closer, closing the gap between the two of you, until your knees touched. The simple gesture made Spencer's face brighten, and he relaxed almost immediately, his breath catching in a small, relieved sigh.

“There,” you said softly, your voice low, warm. “Better?”

Spencer looked at you with wide, grateful eyes, his smile blooming like spring after a long winter. “Much better.”

Without another word, you reached across the table, gently taking his hand in yours. The warmth of his skin against yours felt like coming home, and Spencer’s fingers curled around yours with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

“I like this,” he said quietly, looking down at your joined hands.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the sense of contentment that only Spencer could give you. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, his smile never faltering. “You don’t have to apologize. I just wanted to be close to you. And... I guess I didn’t know how to ask.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning in just a little closer. “Next time, I’ll make sure to sit next to you.”

Spencer grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar spark. “Next time?”

“Yeah,” you said, with a playful glint in your eyes. “I think I could get used to the fact that you’re a little possessive of our personal space.”

Spencer’s laughter filled the space between you, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart swell. It was moments like these that reminded you just how much you adored him. Even in his quirks, even in his need for closeness, Spencer was exactly what you needed.

As the night continued, you both sat side by side, hands firmly entwined, and for once, the world felt like it had stopped moving, just for the two of you.

The space between you was gone, and you were exactly where you were meant to be—close enough.

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evillama666 · 1 day ago

Text

“Taking it slow”

Daryl Dixon x reader

When I think about Daryl being in a relationship, I think about how slow he’ll need to take things. I, for one, like taking things slow. Daryl is new to this, of course you're going to have to teach him things and be patient. As much as I love confident and cocky Daryl, it’s going to take him a minute to actually get there. There’s going to be lots of baby steps!

Summary: Must I explain much? Slowly entering a relationship with Daryl and getting comfortable

Tags: Fluff, baby steps, inexperienced, headcannons, cuddles!!! No specific era or season

Word count: 4765

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You’ve known Daryl since Atlanta. Of course, you two have been through a lot together, so he’s grown to care about you. Like the way he cares about Carol but, maybe more. You’ve seen him grow as a person, and all he’s gone through. You’ve always been there for him for everything, even if he tried to push you away at times. You two have a very close relationship, but lately, it seems to have been getting closer. Daryl needs a deep emotional connection with someone before anything happens. He’s probably on the ace spectrum. It makes sense. He’ll fall for anyone, doesn’t matter who, as long as they appreciate him. He just needs to feel loved. He’s bi just doesn’t know it or acknowledged it.

You had to reassure him you can go slow, like really slow. You’d happily teach him everything since he’s never done this before. Eventually, he reluctantly gave in. First step was touches. He wasn’t used to affectionate touches. Whenever you touched him, he flinched. There was clearly some trauma bubbling up, so you never pushed. Eventually he trusted your touch and stopped flinching, even began to crave it. However, he doesn’t enjoy being affectionate in front of the group. That’s something you can put up with. If you want this to work, you have to respect his boundaries or he’ll push you away. Sometimes he’ll casually put his hand on your shoulder, or graze your arm around the group to show his appreciation.

It took a while for your first kiss, and another week for your second. Sex would take even longer, but that’s not on your mind right now. The first kiss, he was hesitant, unsure, but when your lips brushed against his, he melted and kissed you back. Of course, you had to make the first move. His touches were slow, shy, and a bit clumsy, and he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was a mess after that kiss. That’s why it took so long for the second. However, the second one felt much more natural. He put one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip to pull you in close. He even used some tongue. His touches were much more confident. He’s a fast learner, after all. You're not sure where he picked that up from, but you liked it. He doesn’t kiss you often though, he’s still getting used to it.

He needs lots of reassurance from you. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong or it’s not good enough. If you teach him something new or if he picks something up from you, like something you do to him, he’s very tentative and hesitant. He’ll gradually feel more comfortable after you reassure him he’s fine. This man cannot make the first move. Not yet anyway. He needs you to give him a sign that it’s fine. There’s a lot of little affectionate gestures he wants to show you, but he’s just too shy. He’ll get more comfortable as time goes on and touch you whenever without hesitation. (: For now anyway, he’s fighting with himself a lot.

He has a lot of thoughts about how he’s not good enough, not handsome enough, doesn’t deserve you, you can do better. Thoughts along those lines. Why do you think he needs so much reassurance? When you two first started getting closer, he had a lot of those thoughts, so he pushed you away, avoided you. Little did he know is you melt those thoughts when you're around. He feels most at ease around you. It’s like you clear his mind. Of course, you gave him his space at first, but eventually you had to be near him. That little push made him realize how nice it feels to be around you. However, if you push too hard, he’ll push you away. He’s like a scared puppy. He has to make his way to you.

We all know Daryl is a man of action, not words. He won't say ‘I love you’ too often, not early on anyway, but he’ll show you. He’ll pick up little trinkets for you on runs, let you have the first serving of food, or pick up rocks that match the colour of your eyes. When he’s more comfortable with touches, he’ll always show you small acts of affection to make up for his lack of words. Lots of little kisses everywhere and soft touches. He’s only gentle with you.

(Present)

He’s sitting on a log by the fire eating alone while the rest of the group is either still asleep, or grabbing food. You come up behind him slowly so you don’t startle him, and kiss his shoulder as you step over the log and sit. He grunts in surprise before smiling just slightly. He’s been getting more comfortable with your touches. He didn’t even mind that the group was near for that one, not like anyone of that actually saw. “Mornin’.” He says in a gruff voice, swallowing his food. You’re sitting closer than usual. He shudders when your shoulder brushes his. “Morning!” You reply cheerfully.

His face scrunches when you kiss the corner of his lips, thinking he won’t want a proper one just yet. You were mistaken. He glances at the group behind him before cupping your cheek and pressing a quick peck to your lips. He looks back down at his bowl like nothing happened. He’s sure the group has picked up what’s been going on between you two. You two have been sharing a tent, after all. Your eyes widen after that quick kiss. “You’ve been getting bold lately.” He must be feeling comfortable. He just shrugs, quietly eating. You notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at the group. “Worried about what the group will think?”

He looks back at you. His eyes say everything. You’ve gotten better at reading them since he’s so quiet. “How about we try something simple?” He thinks for a second, then nods. He’s been trying to work with you, push past his boundaries. Anything for you. He sighs contently when you lay your head on his shoulder. That’s something he can handle. He looks back and gets a small smile from Carol. Yea, she knows. She’s glad he found someone…. Or more like someone found him.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you eat. He’s always watching you, observing, trying to figure out how you work. Also… admiring you. He doesn’t get how such a pretty thang could fall for him. Why you're willing to go through so much to be with him. He usually has to push those thoughts away. When he finishes his food, he lays his head on top of yours. You both aren’t getting any looks from the group, so he’s willing to be affectionate right now. You set your food down, wanting to soak up this moment. You don’t get to many of these. “Are you going hunting again?”

“ ‘Course.” He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. You sigh softly, knowing this moment won’t last too long. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He holds you for a moment before he pulls away, standing up to go grab his crossbow. You look down at your food with a slight pout. You know he’s just trying to fend for the group, but he always spends the whole day hunting. He ruffles your hair before heading off to the woods, and you give him one last look.

Nighttime is your favourite with Daryl. He’ll come back, feeling exhausted from hunting, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle with you. He’ll be more affectionate since you two have the privacy of your tent. You tiredly lift your head when you hear the tent zipper. “Daaryl.” You say his name softly with affection. He hates the way his heart reacts each time you say his name like that. “Hey sw-” He cuts himself off before he lets ‘sweetheart’ slip. You wish he would just say it, but you’ll take what you’ll get. “How’d it go?” Daryl groans as he takes off his vest. He’s sore after a long day and can’t wait to cuddle with you. “Mmmh… Didn’t get shit, but set up some traps.” He huffs as he collapses on the pile of blankets on the tent floor. His eyes close as you run your fingers through your hair. This is when he lets you touch him. Let’s you push past his borders and boundaries. This is the time for you to test new things. Push him just a little. His eyes open when he hears you giggle after you boop his nose. There’s a small smile on his lips. “Enjoying yaself?” You scooch closer and nod. “Uh-huh.” He leans into your hand as you rub his hair. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s clingy. You might get a few shy kisses from him, but you're usually doing all the work. Not that you mind, this man needs all the affection in the world. He sinks into the blankets as he unwinds from the day. “Ready for bed, Daryl?”

“More first.” He mumbles, enjoying the way you play with his hair. He’s never loud, but you can hear a few pleased sighs and content hums from him. He groans as your hand moves from his hair down to his shoulder, rubbing his taut muscles. “Damn…” He groans out. He didn’t think this would be so nice. His mind has always been focused on survival. He never stopped to consider the perks of a relationship. If he knew you’d do this for him every night, he would have probably been with you a lot sooner. “You like that?”

“Hell yea.” His voice is barely audible. This man is in pure bliss right now. You need nothing more to be perfectly happy with him. It brings you such satisfaction to get him like this. He doesn’t even realize how vulnerable he is. That thought didn’t cross his mind. All he knows is how warm and safe you make him feel. Feeling a bit bold, you move your hand down to his chest.

His eyes open and he grabs your wrist, before seeing your look of surprise. He holds it for a second before letting go. Sometimes you’ll get something like that when you cross a boundary he’s not ready for. So, doing something you know he’s comfortable with, you bring your hand to his cheek, stroking your thumb over his goatee. His eyes close once he relaxes again. His head sinks against his pillow as he sighs.

You love the soft little sounds you're able to pull out of him. It’s a sign that you're doing something good. These are the times he’s most relaxed. When you're showing him affection. It’s easiest to read him when he’s vulnerable. Figure out what he likes, what he doesn't. Which isn’t much since he loves all the affection you give him. That’s what he needed in his life.

He grabs your wrist again, making you feel you did something wrong. Your brows furrow when he pushes himself up, then leans over you. “How do I…?” Oh, he wants to reciprocate. He hasn’t really done that. This must be growth. “Just do what feels natural.” He just looks at you, waiting for you to give him some more direct directions. “Uh… start with kisses. Kiss me wherever you’d like.” His eyes roam over your face and neck as he nods. He lowers his head, his lips just above yours, then he hesitates. You don’t close the gap, not wanting to push him. You want him to be able to make his way to you. He swallows thickly before tentatively pressing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss back until he does. For such a rough man, he has the softens lips you've ever kissed.

He’s using this kiss to memorise your lips. All his other kisses were usually quick and shy. He never really felt your lips. After a good minute he sighs heavily against your lips as he pulls away. Then he moves his face down to your neck. He keeps his head buried there, enjoying your soft warm skin before he finds your pulse point and kisses it, since it's most vulnerable. It’s his way of showing you’re safe with him. One of your hands makes it to his hair. It’s gotten so long, it’s easy to tangle your fingers in it.

His hair is one of his favourite places to be touched. Why do you think he grew it out? You ruffled it once, back when it was short and he was hooked. He trails a couple of kisses down your throat before lifting his head for reassurance. He’s always asking for reassurance from you. He wants to be doing all of this right. You brush his hair out of his face. “That’s good, that’s good. Feels nice.” Your voice is breathless. He must be doing a damn good job if he was able to get you to sound like that.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He’s treating your skin so delicately. He hits a few sensitive spots that make you pull his hair. So those are the sweet spots? Duly noted. Now Daryl knows where to focus. You don’t know what this is leading to, if anything. Either way, you're happy. This is the most expressive Daryl has been since the two of you have gotten closer. His kisses are slow and soft, trying to make up for all the affection he hasn’t shown you yet.

Then he slowly lowers his weight on your chest, making sure not to crush you, and just lays there. There’s a lot going through his mind, there always is. You’re happily playing with his hair. His weight on your chest is soothing. It seems like he needs a minute, so you’re giving him all the time he needs. You don’t press, just leave him be. It must be a lot for him, but you're proud he pushed himself. You press a little kiss to his hair as a way to tell him he did good. You two have a way of communicating in silence.

His brows furrow as he struggles with his thoughts. Is he doing this right? Why is it so difficult for him? He cares about you. Cares about you deeply, but it’s just so hard for him to get himself to show you. His thoughts get interrupted as you ruffle his hair. It’s like you’re directly scratching those thoughts away. He must be doing ok since you’ve never complained.

He nuzzles his face into your chest. It’s the warmest part of you, so he loves it. That and your thighs. He loves laying his head in your lap, having his hair played with as you talk about your day. “Sleepy?” You ask quietly. He just grunts in response. Yea, he’s tired, but if he goes to bed, that means no more kisses. He tugs on your shirt like a child, silently asking for more. You happily give them to him, placing kisses all over the top of his head. He’s trying hard not to doze off. He craves more, but the warmth is getting to him.

You lightly nudge his shoulder to see if he fell asleep. Apparently not, as he lifts his head with a small grunt. “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.” He huffs at that idea as he lowers his head. “Don’ wanna.” Wow, he sounded like a whiny child. You brush his hair back, trying to get him to look at you again. “Why not?” You're always trying to get Daryl to communicate. Even if it’s not vocal. Sometimes if he wants a kiss, he’ll nudge you or lay his head on your shoulder until you do something. Those moments are so cute.

He’s reluctant to speak. He’s not good and not used to voicing what he wants. “Wan- need more.” You laugh softly. Just a few words are good enough. You cup his cheek in your hand as you kiss all over his face. His face scrunches and he sucks in a breath before relaxing. And look at that, his cheeks are pink. Daryl loves and hates all the tingles your kisses leave behind. He never thought they could do that. He thought a kiss was a kiss, but you’ve taught him they're so much more than that. He lays his head back on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It’s one of his favourite sounds. Your heartbeat, laughs and giggles, your breaths when you sleep, and the way your voice gets when you're excited or talking about something you're passionate about.

Once he heard your voice get like that when you were talking about him to Carol. That’s when he figured you must truly have feelings for him. You’ve never once faked that voice. Thinking back, there were a lot of signs he missed. Maybe you didn't realize, or maybe you needed to take your time before you told him. Either way, he knows you’ve cared for him for a damn long time.

He slowly untangles himself from you. Your hand lingers in his hair as you watch him pull away. Then his hands drop to his belt. Assuming he’s just taking it off for bed, you close your eyes and cuddle up with a blanket. He’s never taken his jeans off to sleep, even though you’ve told him to because, let’s be real, sleeping in jeans is uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not comfortable yet to let you see him like that. Your eyes snap open when you hear his fly. Damn, maybe tonight’s different. You catch a glimpse of the bulge in his boxers before forcing yourself to look away to give him some privacy. This is the first time he’s done this. Don’t ruin it by ogling him like a perv.

He slips under the blanket with you, cuddling your back, wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a small kiss on your shoulder before closing his eyes. “Night.” You glance at him as he settles against his pillow. “G’night handsome.” A small breath of amusement passes his nose. You’ve been slowly easing into calling him pet names. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he falls asleep.

The longer you slept with Daryl, the fewer nightmares he had. Of course, one will pop up once in a while, but mostly, his nights are peaceful with you. He loves using you as a pillow or holding you to his chest, using your weight for deep pressure therapy. It helps with nightmares. The warmth from your body is his favourite. Sleeping in a tent, the nights get cold, so he likes to snuggle close. He likes to think he’s doing this to keep you warm, but he’s doing it for his own comfort.

The first couple times he slept with you, he’d get up with the sun and leave, going on about his normal routine. One morning he slept in later than he wanted but didn't mind after he watched you wake up. You were so cute, all groggy, clinging to him, still pretty out of it, and so natural. But what he really liked? Your morning voice. It was so soft, softer than usual. Now he’s heard you use a soft voice with him before but this felt different. He ended up starting his day a lot later because he enjoyed watching you be all disoriented as you woke. He found it so interesting. He thought you were so beautiful at that moment. Like you were unreal.

The first night you invited him to sleep over at your tent, he didn't cuddle. Sure, he let you touch him a little, but he kept to himself as he fell asleep. You tried to get him closer but he kept his distance. All your little touches were still new for him so cuddles would’ve been too overwhelming. However he slowly made his way to you. That’s how it works. You need to let him make his way to you. Let him take his time.

He always wakes up before you. He’s just used to waking up early. Waking up before you, he’s always greeted with your sleeping form. He gets to see you at peak vulnerability. When you wake up, he’s sitting beside you, quietly watching with a soft gaze. He’s already got his jeans and vest back on. He watches as you blink rapidly to clear the blurriness. Now he’s waiting for you to see him and cuddle close. He’s memorised the way you work each morning. And there it is, you're grabbing him, trying to pull him down, so he’s laying with you. He happily complies.

He brushes your hair out of your face, then glances at your lips. Is this the right time to kiss you? Should he wait until you’re fully awake? He doesn’t know. He wants you to engage first. That way, he knows you actually want it. He’s always afraid of crossing a boundary. Fuck it. He’s going to go for it. You’ll tell him if you didn’t like it right? You're so much better at communicating than him. He pushes his lips against yours, lingering for a moment, before pulling away. The happy hum he got from you makes him feel better. He’s considering a way to push himself a little further, but not entirely, so he’s not out of his comfort zone. Soooo... “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your eyes light up when he finally calls you that. He’s been wanting to for a while, he was just too shy. “Good morning, handsome!” Your excited demeanour makes him chuckle. Ok, so you like that. He’ll call you that more just to see you react like that. He runs his hand through your hair, trying to smooth it out. “Ya lookin’ a lil’ messy.” A small pout forms on your lips then you get an idea. “Would you like to brush it?”

His hand falters. That’s a very intimate act for him… but it seems easy enough. That’s something that can ease him into something more. He nods once with a grunt. You sit up, grabbing your brush, then sit in front of him. He hesitates as he looks at your hair. It’s messy, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s rough with his hair on the rare occasion when he brushes it, but he knows he can’t be like that with you. You look over your shoulder when he doesn’t start brushing. “I’ll let you know if you pull.” He sighs as he brushes the ends of your hair. He’s brushing slowly, being extra mindful not to hurt you. “How’s tha’?”

You close your eyes. You can feel how careful he’s being. “You’re doing good.” While brushing your hair, he only snags a couple times, but it’s not enough to really hurt you. Still, he feels like shit. “You’ll get better the more you do it.” He pauses. You’ll let him brush your hair more? He… really likes that idea. He runs his fingers through your hair, making sure he didn’t miss any knots. Then he tries something you always do to him. He lightly scritches your head, drawing giggles from him. “Haha, Daryl!” You laugh, leaning back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you. He’s learned the way you play with his hair, so he has some idea about how he’s supposed to do it. He presses his head against your shoulder, leaving little kisses. He’s observing your reactions, seeing what makes you react how. See, he’s learning. “I’m not goin’ huntin’ today.”

“Why-” You get cut off as he pulls you down with him. “Oh.” You laugh, cuddling up with him. Today, he wants to focus on getting closer with you, learning about you, and feeling more comfortable with you. He’s never going to get any better at affection if he doesn't try it. He compares it to hunting. There’s a lot to learn, a lot of patience, but if he practices then it’ll become second nature. He’s only really affectionate with you at night, and that doesn't last too long because you both end up falling asleep. When you wrap a leg around his waist, he tenses. He wasn't expecting the gush of warmth that would come with that. A second later, he relaxes, holding you close. “C- can I kiss ya?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” You’ve told him that a couple times before, but he still asks. Though if you keep telling him, he’ll slowly learn. Just reassure the baby. It’s all he needs. He presses kisses to your shoulder, making his way up to your neck. Soft little grumbles and sighs can be heard from him. He’s never let his hands wander, he’s just been too much of a sweetheart for that, but today he’s feeling bold. His hand moves down to your waist, gliding over your curves, then rests on your hip. He likes the way your body feels. It’s perfect. It’s so soft to touch. He’s not used to feeling something like that. His fingers squeeze just slightly, not wanting to be rough.

Never feeling him touch you like that before, makes you feel those nice tingles. So, you snuggle closer, trying to encourage him to keep going. It takes him a second to realize what you want before running his hand up and down your side. The baby boy is learning! His movements are stiff at first before becoming more natural. He’s giving into the feelings you make him feel. You're soaking up every touch. It's the first he’s really ever done this. “Am I… doin’ ok?” He asks nervously. You sigh happily. As much as you love showing him affection, it’s nice to have some in return. “You’re doing more than ok.” Daryl's eyes gaze over your face and body language, trying to get a read on you. You’re really not that hard to read. You’re basically melting under him. He has to bite back a smile. He can’t believe he’s actually making you react like this. Do you know how good that makes him feel? Knowing he has an effect on you? He’ll be using that against you when he’s more comfortable.

You mess with his hair as his hands roam from your sides to your tummy. He’s trying to memorise how you feel. He closes his eyes and buries his face in your neck, so he’s solely focused on the way you feel. He’s very bold this morning. He’s never this brave when he touches you. Once he feels like he let his hands roam for long enough, he takes a peek at your face. You look peaceful. He got you like that, huh? That makes him feel a sense of accomplishment.

He flinches back when you suddenly bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. His facial muscles relax when he realizes you didn’t mean any harm. He’s gazing at you tenderly. His eyes always give him away. And when he closes them, that means he’s feeling comfortable. It’s his way of lowering his guard. He lets out a low groan as you ruffle his hair. That always makes him melt. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm while he makes eye contact.

The fucking BUTTERFLIES, this man just made you feel. He knew what he was doing. When he’s confident with his touches it’s going to be fucking over for you. He chuckles slowly as your cheeks flush and you try to hide your face with your hands. He grabs both of your wrists, holding them firmly to his chest. “Ah, ah, girl.” You meet his eyes. He loves the pink flush to your cheeks. Sure, he’s gotten you to blush a few times, but never like that. He hides his smile by resting his head on top of yours. He sighs contently as he wraps his arms around you. His thumbs are tracing little patterns on your back.

You close your eyes as you relax, giving into his embrace. His big strong arms are perfect for wrapping around you and holding you close. Have you seen his arms? They’re perfect for this. His grip is tight and secure, shielding you from the world. It’s his way of showing he’s protective of you. He likes to keep you close to his chest. That’s where his heart is after all.

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Soooooo, this turned out to be a lot more fluff than I was originally going to write but who’s complaining?

#daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #Daryl Dixon cuddles #I CAN COPPY AND PASTE TAGS?#I was pasting them individually...

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beautifullilacsky · 5 hours ago

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I remember my garden. The way the path was always cleared for everyone who wanted to pass and spend some time together. The explosions of color from different flowers and greenery, waiting to happily greet anybody who walked by. I still have a clear vision of my garden; how I felt so peaceful and happy in it, and how it welcomed the occasional visiter. I used to also visit other people's garden, and see all of their beautiful fields, appreciating every bit of it.

My garden has changed. The sun hid behind the clouds, and the flowers bloom less grand and bright. The flowers are still there though, but they are turned to one another instead of to the paths, not allowing anyone to see and smell their magic. Most of the time, the flowers were forgiving. Though now, when someone accidentally steps on a leaf or leaves behind a hint of trash, the flowers don't just show understandment and forgiveness. They grow bitter, and their focus on the negative things grows. Instead of focusing on how blessed we are to have a visitor, the flowers are constantly on guard, seeing when the visitor slips up. Every single mistake, even if so minor, gets noticed and amplified. The weeds seem to take over, and grow all over the paths and around the flowers. They want to keep people away. They aren't welcoming and kind, they are disruptive and full of disgust. They have also taken over the main gate, trying to keep it closed. Anyone who tries to enter, is seen as an intruder. Also, I am kept here into my own garden. The garden that seems to have lost its magic. The gardener, aka me, doesn't want to visit anybody else's garden. She sees how her own garden needs tending, and doesn't have any time nor patience for any other gardens. When other gardens are visited, the gardeners eyes no longer instantly go to the beauty of the garden. It sees all of the things that are off, the things that hold less beauty. There might be a whole bunch of stunning flowers bundled up together, but her focus gets drawn to this one stump of wood that lays on the path. "If you knew I was visiting, why did you not bother to clean up before I came?" Especially in their shared garden, she doesn't even want to take care of the garden, knowing the other will either not clean up, or will leave a new mess once the gardener has cleaned. "I don't want to tend to this shared garden, because you don't seem to feel the need to show it the same respect. Though, it also works on my nerves and hurts my feelings that the garden isn't cared for." Her own lack of care hurts, but she also wonders; why should I?

Is my garden something I need to fix? I miss my old garden. Though, should I just close my eyes and accept it again if somebody steps on my flowers? Even if it is an accident, or if that person has a different garden culture and finds that perfectly normal. I am honestly tired of trying to understand and accept others and their actions. I want to keep others out, and stay away from other gardens too. I wish to focus on my own, though I have seemed to have lost some green color on my fingers. My garden can't thrive by itself, even if we have seen it do so in the past. Just like trees connect with one another, the connection to other gardens makes mine shine and makes it stronger. Though, I do not want it. The more it's forced, the more resistance I show.

marigold

2024/06/29

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gothamhappiness · 1 day ago

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Behind the masks (mayor!reader x Bruce Wayne) - Part 1

Hi everyone, I got this little idea of reader becoming the new Mayor of Gotham, and as you start working with Batman, you fall for each other. This is going to be a two part story with a gender neutral reader, hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, you're a leftist (don't know if it needs to be in the warnings, but basically you just want the inhabitants of Gotham to be healthy and happy), you dislike Bruce Wayne quite a lot (you're uneasy in his presence), but you really love Batman, mentions of kissing Batman, mentions of having sex with Batman (he's a little bit submissive), a little bit of angst as you don't think you can get more than a work + sexual relationship with Batman

You were the new mayor of Gotham.

You didn’t really believe this happened, that you got elected, that you were now at the head of this rotten city. Your whole campaign has been around cleaning Gotham from its corruption and helping the poor people. You had been treated as a leftist and you had been proud of it. You were there to help your citizens, you were ready to fight for them, you were ready to help Gotham become a good place to live in.

You knew it was going to be hard and maybe a little bit bloody. But you were determined. You felt like it was your calling and now you were elected, you were on a mission. It was your duty to save Gotham from the darkness. You knew you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own, but you trusted your people: some of them showed more than once that they were ready to fight for Gotham too. Batman and his vigilantes, as well as Jim Gordon, were the first people you thought about. You were certain everything was possible.

You would make everything possible.

During the campaign, Bruce Wayne quickly offered you some money. You refused at first, because you weren’t too sure you could trust this himbo of a man. And last time he founded a campaign, Harvey Dent turned into a villain - which you didn’t want to happen to you as well. Plus, even if Bruce Wayne was known for his charity events and for trying his best for the city, you were feeling uneasy around such a rich man. Something always seemed fake about him and you didn’t particularly want to be linked to him.

However when the mayor in place started to find ways to destroy all the funds you got, you had to accept Bruce Wayne’s offer. You hated it but you didn't have the choice anymore. Your campaign director had been exasperated when you told him you had refused the help of Bruce Wayne. And when all your funds disappeared, he blamed you for not having taken what the richest man of the city offered. You told him you could try to accept now, but he wasn’t too sure Bruce Wayne would accept. You still decided to give it a shot.

You remembered how you came to the Wayne manor, feeling pretty awkward in such a place. You remembered how you felt so small there, because you weren’t coming from a very rich place yourself. You were from the low middle class, just enough to get an education and knowing how to talk to be listened to.

The butler, Alfred, you believed he was called, answered the door and very politely asked you to come inside, and told you that his Master Bruce was waiting for you in his office. You thanked him before following the man through the manor.

Alfred knocked at a door and opened it for you before announcing you to Bruce Wayne. You were feeling even more uncomfortable, but you tried to remind yourself that you were putting yourself in this position for your city, for your people.

Bruce Wayne probably noticed how tense you were as he got up to shake hands with you as he gently smiled at you. He offered you a seat. You didn’t want to do any small talk or to stay any longer than necessary so you quickly went to the subject of your visit.

“Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for accepting to receive me so quickly." you said

“It’s no problem, I understand that I could help you?” he asked you, and for a moment you wondered if he was playing dumb or if he really was

“I know I turned down your offer to fund my campaign but… I’m afraid Mr. Hill isn’t playing fair, and I can’t really refuse your money anymore, if you’re still up to help me on that front of course. I would totally understand if you changed your mind…” you told him, pushing away your shame and proud as far as possible from you

“Of course I’m still up to help you. I’m glad when my money can serve Gotham.” he replied and you relaxed

“Thank you so much for making things that easy for me.” you said as you leaned into your seat

“Very good speech you gave last night, by the way.” Bruce Wayne shot you another smile as he signed up the biggest check you ever received in your whole life

“Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Wayne.” you whispered, quite stunned by all the zeroes he added, before it started worrying you: “Should I expect you to ask me for a favor one day?” you wondered and Bruce had seemed a little bit surprised for an instant before shaking his head

“I just want Gotham cleaned. And you seem eager and ready to do so” he shrugged “I can host a gala for you by the way” he offered “Anything that could help your campaign”

“That’s very kind of you, I’ll let you know about it” you had politely replied, hoping you wouldn’t need to accept this new offer as you didn’t particularly enjoy that kind of event and you didn’t want to have to spend more time with Bruce “Brucie” Wayne. “I hope to see you at my victory speech” you smiled, trying to be polite

“I’ll be there” Bruce Wayne simply nodded and you didn’t want to enjoy how certain he seemed to be.

Certain you were going to win.

You kept politely talking to one another for a few more instants, before you softly told him you had to go. You thanked him again and he actually guided you back to the front door of the manor.

You left the manor and as you got inside your car, you had to pinch yourself to make sure that none of this was a dream.

You were a little bit astonished by how things went. Brucie Wayne acted a lot different than usual: he didn’t flirt with you, he didn’t try to seem to be ongoing and nice. He seemed even normal for a rich guy. You had the feeling he was more than just an himbo, after all he was taking an interest in politics? But you still didn’t trust him and you hoped you wouldn’t need to see him too often. Something about him was making you feel apprehensive, like when you look at an illusion and you can’t determine what is behind it.

Truth to be told, Bruce Wayne really liked you. He really thought you could be a good mayor. Jim Gordon thought the same and they both hoped someone was finally going to be on their side to make Gotham a good place.

Bruce Wayne stayed true to his words and as you were giving your victory speech, you spotted him in the crowd with his butler. He applauded for you, and when journalists asked him if he voted for you, he quickly said that yes. You hated how it helped your popularity and how everyone was even more eager to work with you as a mayor. You still had to send him a little message to thank him for his support.

You did your best to forget about him as you quickly started to work once you got elected. You truly became an ally of Jim Gordon. You started to clean up the GCPD from any rotten apples, and you did the same among the justice of Gotham. Of course, you quickly started to get a lot of enemies. You spent sleepless nights and you were walking on a thin line: with all the people you had to fire, you were clearly understaffed. But you had to do it, and you knew it was the right path. At the same time, you were working on an education plan for the poorest neighbourhoods of Gotham. You were certain that when people would escape poverty, they wouldn't need to work as goons, and criminality would drop.

Jim still warned you about the fact that before you reached this goal, you would need more police officers, or other kinds of help… You quickly understood what he meant and the next day you publicly declared that Batman and the vigilantes working with him were allies of Gotham, that the GCPD wouldn’t attack them anymore and that the city was eager to work with them.

Bruce was watching the news and he was quite pleasantly surprised by such decisions. It would indeed make things so much easier. He was quite eager to work with you.

After that, Jim offered to organise a meeting with Batman in the flesh so the three of you could agree on the better plan for cleaning up Gotham.

You didn’t hesitate. You had always believed Batman was a light in Gotham. Of course, you weren’t always in agreement with how he acted, but you also knew that without him, the City would have gone even crazier.

You were a little bit stressed out before meeting the Dark Knight. You weren’t too sure how to act around him. But once he appeared in front of you, you relaxed. You felt safe and talking with him felt natural.

It was strange how Batman and you instantly enjoyed each other. You easily understood each other, and you were seeing Gotham and its corruption the same way. You often had meetings with him, sometimes even without Jim. When it was happening, it was almost looking like a working date.

Or just a date.

You didn’t want to admit it but Batman was attractive: he was a big and powerful man, he was a genius too. More than once, when it was just the two of you, he cracked some pretty cynical jokes that never failed to make you laugh.

He also gave you a device to call him or the other vigilantes in case you would be in danger. You were becoming a target, and you were grateful a man like Batman was looking after you, or you knew you would get killed pretty soon. But, few months after your election, you still haven't needed to call for him because whenever something was going on in the city, he was sending one of the people working with him to you, so they could protect you.

You were quite friendly with all the vigilantes of Gotham and they seemed to like you quite a lot as well. It was a nice change for them that someone was so openly thankful for their work and to be offered food and water whenever they arrived to look after you. You even bandaged Robin one night he showed up injured but with the clear determination to protect you. You had argued with the kid for a while before he let you check on him. Batman personally thanked you for that the night after and you shrugged it off

“You look after me, I look after you all, it seems like a fair deal to me”

The first night you kissed Batman, you got worried it would make things awkward between the two of you. You didn’t know why you acted on your fantasy, but you didn’t regret it, as the man quickly answered the kiss. He sat you on your desk and cupped your face. You smiled against his lips: you clearly weren’t the only one who had wanted this.

The first time you had sex, Batman went down on you. You had been a little bit surprised that the Dark Knight was actually a little bit submissive, but you enjoyed to hold onto the pointed ears of his mask to ride his mouth. He had left you satisfied like you had never been before. Was the man really skilled no matter what he was doing? You wouldn’t complain about it.

You adored Batman, and you enjoyed working with him and having this physical relationship with him, but you didn’t really hope for anything more. You were already happy with that, even if a little voice inside your head told you that you could have so much more. You could become his partner, you could start a romantic relationship too. And you would have been the happiest person on Earth, because he was truly illuminating your nights and helping you go through all the mess Gotham could be.

But he was a masked man and you didn’t really think he would want more or to put his secret identity at risk. You were aware that something changed though, because the other vigilantes seemed a lot more careful when it was about you. After all, they knew their mentor and father was in love with you.

You were taking a break from work, reading a newspaper talking about the fact that Bruce Wayne hadn’t been seen with any girls or boys lately. Actually, it appeared that Brucie wasn’t flirting or hitting on anyone at galas. Everyone was wondering if he wasn’t secretly seeing someone but so far the paparazzi hadn’t found anything.

“I didn’t know you cared about Bruce Wayne?” a voice asked from behind you and you jumped before groaning as you realised that Batman had appeared out of nowhere

“Bat” you gave him a warning look “We talked about it” you reminded him as you turned your seat to face him

“Sorry, mayor” he apologised but you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips

“And no I don’t care about Bruce Wayne, but that’s all the media are talking about lately.” you replied to his question “But you know him, don’t you? Is he too in love to fuck with anyone else?” you teased

“I don’t know his sexual life” Batman sternly replied and you hummed “But you know him too, don't you?” he asked but he seemed to already know the answer

“He just gave me money for my campaign.” you shrugged

“And you didn’t try to know more about him? It’s always useful to have rich people on your side” Batman tried and you were wondering what was happening with Batman

“No. He feels too… unreal and that scares me off.” you finally said

“Unreal?” Batman seemed genuinely surprised

“I mean you feel unreal sometimes too, but you feel fuller too. I’m uneasy around Bruce Wayne because… well I don’t know, it’s like a perfect mask and because he’s super hot, no one tries to find out what’s really behind all of it. I guess you’re also wearing a mask, but you’ve got a real personality” you tried to explain “Anyways, we’re not here to…”

“You’re smart” Batman cut you off and you arched an eyebrow at that “But you never wonder what's behind the masks?” he asked again and you were really curious about where this conversation was leading

“I don’t want to be near Bruce Wayne. And as for you… I don’t know. We’re working well together, the sex is good too. I guess I’m always afraid to ask for too much, because I don’t want things to get ruined between us because I’ve been too greedy” you sincerely replied

“Would you do me a favor?” he suddenly asked and you nodded “Bruce Wayne is going to invite you to one of his galas and I need you to go there, and I need you to talk with him. And then you’ll tell me if you’re still scared to look beneath the mask”

Part 2

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

@randomnamedmira

@winterhi09

@murkyponds

@qardasngan

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x s/o #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x reader #batman x y/n #batman x you #batman x s/o #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #batman fandom #batman fanfiction

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 1 day ago

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~{Heyyy, So I got this wonderful idea from @villainmirabelmadriga but it’s not letting me add on to it so I’m just making this!}~

•Protecter•

The JL have a new…problem?

There has been a new pattern when it comes to young vigilantes and young solo heroes where they will disappear for a couple months before showing back up with a power up if they have powers or stronger weapons and technology if they don’t as well as a necklace that they all wear after showing back up.

The JL have located how they get to wherever they are when not fighting but it seems to have something on it to keep everyone out but those who have the necklace or being brought in by someone with a necklace, The JL have tried to take a necklace from a young villain but it burned the one who took it so that plan was a bust.

Martian Manhunter tried to transform into one of the young vigilantes and go in back it sent him flying back if he hadn’t caught himself he would have been thrown more than 20 feet back.

These were the first two plans but the JL have tried many more but all where unsuccessful so they are on their last plan.

They will send YJL with Robin and Nightwing to infiltrate them by acting as a new vigilante group that needs help and a place to stay.

Hope this works.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

Danny was the Ancient of Protection.

So when he came to this world to see if this was a good place to stay for a bit and saw the young Vigilantes and solo heroes, he was reminded of him when he was still a halfa and fighting with the other ghost and G.I.W and that kick starts his protective instincts (As both a ghost parent and the Ancient as Protection).

So he goes to find a good place to set up a gateway to his lair so he can protect and help the kids and that’s when he meets an old woman.

Her name is Lazaire, she seems to be in her 70 or 80 but Danny doesn’t want to ask and she even sees Danny when he when invisible so Danny of course asks how she can and she explains that when she was a young girl she died for 5 minutes before being brought back since then she has always been able to see and interact with ghost so that’s why then she asks why a Ancient like Danny is on this world.

And Danny explains why he’s here then Lazaire offers up the old church that she has been taking care of for the past 4 decades and Danny agrees.

And that’s how we got here!

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•The portal to Danny’s lair is in a dark cave also the gems in the necklaces are the keys into it

•Some of the people in the Lair will style the gems in different ways like in ear rings, anklet, bracelets, hair pin, pin

•Danny is the Ancient of Protection and the Life cycle, Dani is the Ancient Of Freedom and Chaos, Dan is the Ancient Of Beauty and Destruction

•Danny’s human half died hundreds of years ago so he’s a full ghost now

•Dan and Dani are his children and they call him “Mother” by Dan and “Mama” by Dani

•Priestess Lazaire is the one to take in the nuns who are in dangerous situations and of course with Danny being the Ancient of Protection he’s more than ok with it [and sends Dan, Dani to go beat the shit out of the abusers or send to Fright Night]

•All of the Nuns kinda think of Danny as a mother/Father as he treats them like he treats Dan and Dani

•Dani is the best (besides Danny because that’s mom) with the kids while Dan doesn’t know how to interact with little kids to he mostly leaves them alone but that just makes the older kids love to hang out with (more like follow him around while he does what he wants or naps)

•Lazaire is like the church’s Alfred but with Bruce’s adoption addiction

•Danny is super chill after living for hundreds of years you kinda get this unnatural chill that is always there

•Just wait until Dan and Dick met lol (Dick is going to SIMP so hard)

•On the outside the Church looks rundown and the trees around it are mostly dead but inside the Lair the Church looks new and beautiful and the forest and gardens and perfect (It’s Dan made it like this, Danny just wants to make the kids safe and comfortable while Dani wants them to have fun and be free while Dan makes it pretty lol)

•Danny has a room where he threads tapestries that the nuns like to hang up [He make them like Penelope from Epic or old Greek stories:) ]

•Dan and Dani joined Danny in his Lair after the first few kids as they missed their mom

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

Danny

[Instead of blue it’s black and it’s a lot fancier but I could find one that looked the way I wanted :( ]

Dani

[^ This one is for when she’s fighting and ^this one is for when she’s doing literally anything else than fighting]

Dan

Nuns

[They wear long cloaks when outside of the church but they mostly wear the second one as it was given to them by Ellie and makes it easier for them to do chores and cook so they like it]

Priestess Lazaire

[Instead of purple it’s green and black]

~{And that’s it,Sorry if the story stuff is a bit short and choppy the post didn’t save and I had to redo it lol anyway I hope you gremlins liked it byeeeee}~

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 days ago

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Hey i see your request are open so could i ask for any characters of your choice with a s/o that has a strong battle lust like no matter the situation they if they see something or someone they think is strong or scary enough they just go “lets kill it” anyway thank you for making content its people like you who get me through the day don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to love your stuff keep it up!

Them with a reader that wants to fight everything

characters: Eula / Keqing / Clorinde x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I gotta recover those character banners I used back in the day...

Anyway, thanks for the request and the kind words, they mean a lot and I hope you enjoy!

Eula

Eula has had to work with more people than she could recall over the years, some of them more tolerable than others, whether it was due to their personalities or work ethic. And yet you still managed to rank amongst the most exhausting companions she ever had to work besides.

It wasn’t your personality – she could count the times you got into any kind of conflicts with your squadmates on one hand – nor was there any kind of definition she could use to call your work ethic lacking. If anything… it was the complete opposite.

Having to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed after charging headfirst into battle was tedious enough, and yet it weren’t just Lavachurls and other kinds of monstrous beasts that regularly drew your lust for battle.

“Please, Eula. Just one Punch!” You begged like a little child that was told their parents wouldn’t buy that one toy that they had set their minds on for them, trying your damnedest to wiggle out of her grip. And yet to no avail, as shoulders remained in her tight grip.

If she didn’t know better, Eula would think you were the one that had spent their evening drinking their frustrations away, and not her. If it were anyone other than you, she’d at least try to tell you to calm down, that strangers judging her for her heritage was nothing new for her, and yet considering it was you, she doubted it would have made any difference whether the tall big guy in front of you hadn’t insulted her or not.

Sure, you seemed agitated enough while listening to him talk, but it had only been after he challenged you to a fight that you had tried jumping at him with the excitement of a dog chasing his favourite toy.

Not that you ever got the chance to strike, having your arms used to pull you back the same way one would use the leash on a dog the moment before your feet took off. Nor did you have to punch anyone, as your lack of even a sliver of hesitation and lust for battle alone did enough to drive anyone stupid enough to challenge you away.

“No! We can go search for hilichurl camps tomorrow, sit down!”

Eula didn’t even expect that to work. And yet the moment those words left her mouth you were sitting on the bench as if nothing had ever happened.

Keqing

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Guardman’s voice echoed out, staring accusatory daggers into you as he tried to catch his breath from having to run all the way here, the footsteps of his companions trailing not far behind him as you immediately raised your arms in a show of peace.

“They tried to hurt each other”, you gestured to the several bandits lying around the grassfield, none of them showing any signs of consciousness, although each of them were still clearly alive.

“But, I’m a peaceful person, I don't do things like that.” As those words flew past your lips, Keqing’s eyes locked with the guard’s.

The two of you had been on a small errand, when a group of treasure hoarders had ambushed you just outside the city’s view, each of them large in stature and looking threatening in their own right, before demanding your goods and mora.

Not wanting to use unnecessary violence, Keqing had just started to try and resolve the conflict with words when you had suddenly kicked one of them with enough force to have him roll down the hill, letting out a war cry best described as ‘unhinged’ before literally picking up the smallest of them and throwing him as if competing in a sport.

By the time the Yuheng stopped blinking at you in utter surprise and sprang into action, all of the bandits had either been knocked out cold or were running for the mountains.

It was… an experience.

“Everything I did, I did in self defense.” You added in a tone that almost made it seem you were sad you had to resort to violence in the first place.

…She doubted you were. There weren’t all too many pacifists she knew that had a war cry ready at a moment's notice.

“Miss Keqing, you’ve seen the scene play out, I presume? Is it the truth?” The Guard asked her now, the Yuheng’s eyes widening in surprise for a brief moment as she hesitated to answer for a moment before doing so with confidence.

“Considering they did ambush us, I would call it self defense as well.”

Just like that, the two of you were free to go. But while you no longer had anything to explain to the Guards, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion about this.

Clorinde

There weren’t many people that would willingly challenge Clorinde to a fight, most of her potential opponents fled or decided to get sentenced instead of duelling her. Not that she could blame them. The number of human fighters in Fontaine that could stand their ground against her could be counted on one hand.

And then… there were you. Always challenging her to fights whenever you could, only to get rejected each and every time.

Work and private life didn’t mix for Clorinde. You were part of her private life, while duelling was work. She was more than happy enough to have you join her and the others playing games or to indulge you in your hobbies, but duelling? That was out of the question.

Not like her rejections impacted your determination in any way though. You’d still continue asking.

Today was a day to celebrate. Not for Clorinde’s sake, the woman only begrudgingly let you and Navia celebrate her birthday after all, but for yours. Celebrating other peoples’ birthdays or achievements was something entirely different, especially if it were those of people close to her. And yet considering what had led you here in the first place, Clorinde found it difficult to decide whether to congratulate or chide you.

“Congratulations on your promotion. Navia baked some macrons for you when she heard the news”, The woman with a small box of the sweets in her hand, only to pull it away just in time to dodge the hand of yours that reached out to grab it.

“Playing with a wounded officer’s feelings? You’re too cruel, Clorinde”, you pretended to be disappointed in her, only to quickly smile at her, using the momentary distraction to try grabbing the sweets once again.

“And how exactly were you wounded?” She asked in her usual stoic voice as she dodged your hand once again, already knowing the answer to her question.

“By valiantly trying to protect a member of the community.” You declared before trying to strike a pose, only to hiss in pain as you moved your injured arm.

Considering you did manage to help catch a wanted criminal, Clorinde decided not to add insult to injury, leaving out her comment about how she seriously doubted it was the potential victim that caused you to lunch at the criminal and not just the thrill of the fight, letting out a small sigh before placing Navia’s gift in front of you, only to watch you inhale them within moments.

“Clorinde, let's have a duel tomorrow”, you stated in between your bites, only for your movements to come to a grinding halt the moment you heard a dry chuckle escape her lips.

“I’m not going to duel an injured person.”

Almost immediately, Clorinde wished she had phrased that statement differently, as your eyes lit up with almost childlike excitement.

“So you’re alright with duelling me once I’ve recovered?!”

#genshin x reader #eula imagines #eula lawrence x reader #eula #eula x reader #keqing imagines #keqing x reader #keqing #keqing x you #keqing x y/n #eula x y/n #clorinde x reader #clorinde #clorinde x you #clorinde x y/n

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athenagc94 · 1 day ago

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Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 13

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

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Chapter 13

You hurried up the stairs of your complex, a dark cloud swirling overhead. The elevator stopped working that morning, meaning you had to scale seven flights to get to your apartment. Class wrapped for the day, but your philosophy professor wanted to be a bigger ass than usual and threw a pop quiz in your face. You were sure you failed, which was the last thing you needed this close to the end of the semester. You couldn’t even share a harried look with Steph because you stopped talking to her to focus on your studies. A decision you were now beginning to regret, but you tried to hold firm.

In conclusion, you were going through it, and you wanted nothing more than to sink into your couch and binge-watch Bridgerton for the umpteenth time.

As you reached the landing on your floor, you paused, noting the package that awaited you outside your door—a small, unassuming brown box.

Huh.

You didn’t order anything.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed legitimate with the appropriate shipping labels and all that jazz, but you didn’t survive this city without being at least a little wary of pleasant surprises.

It was heavier than you expected. Something you took mental note of as you tucked it under your arm and headed inside. While it could be an explosive or trap sent by a gang or super villain, you hoped they had bigger fish to fry than a college student on the cusp of a mental breakdown.

And at this point, a small part of you welcomed the sweet release of death if it meant you didn’t have to take your finals next week.

You settled cross-legged on your couch, turning the package over in your hands as you tried to guess what it contained. Its contents shifted slightly, and you still had all your limbs intact, so you took that as a good sign.

Sparing yourself the suspense, you ripped it open. A leather book tied with a cord sat on top, unmarked saved for the braided border etched on its cover. Next to it sat an ebony fountain pen with vials of ink. A small smile flitted across your face as you removed the journal, flipping through its pages to appreciate the rough texture of the pages. It was almost too nice to write in.

Beneath it, sat two more books. On Writing by Stephen King, and a collector’s edition of Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. You appreciated the first as a good resource for your upcoming submission, but your attention snagged on the latter. Its deep blue cover looked expensive with gold-pressed fleurs dis lis along its border. You flipped it open to the first page, noting that it was written in French. Somehow, you knew it would be.

A handwritten note sat at the bottom of the empty box.

You’re doing well. I chose you for a reason. Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not for my sake. Take a break from the letters and enjoy the holidays. You’ve earned it.

—Your Dear Daddy Long Legs

Your skin pebbled with the twist in your gut, simultaneously too cold and too hot. You laughed, because you couldn't decide what else to do in that moment. Gifts were one thing, expected even from a man who had plenty of money to spare, but a few words of encouragement and the joining of an inside joke... that was priceless and exactly what you needed right now.

Writing letters had quickly lost its appeal once you started double and triple guessing every word that went onto the page. Life had gotten in the way, so you distanced yourself from your new friends to focus on your studies. You assumed you made the right choice, but it only succeeded in making you feel more isolated. With the end of your first semester looming, you wondered if you’d made a terrible mistake by taking his money.

Bruce Wayne clearly didn’t care about you or your struggles, especially after never receiving a response to your frantic letter apologizing for your misstep.

But maybe you’d been a little too quick to judge.

Your laughter died on a wheeze as tears gathered in your eyes, hot and searing, relieved you hadn’t fucked this up. It wasn’t often the actions of billionaires brought you to tears, and happy tears at that. Hah. You wanted to laugh and sob and scream. Perhaps, an ugly combination of all three. A weight you’d carried over the last few weeks lifted, and you could finally breathe a little easier.

He wanted you to be yourself.

Your paranoia could settle, and you could finally enjoy life instead of sitting around and waiting for him to pull the plug on your academic pursuits.

Grabbing your new journal, you headed for the window. Ice and gray-flecked snow gathered on the grate outside. You sat on the small bench inside your apartment and cracked the window, relishing the chilly Gotham night. As you considered how best to christen your new journal, you heard the pop and drag of a grappling gun. Everyone from Gotham had come to recognize the call of an incoming vigilante.

Your gaze snapped toward the sky, searching the rooftops for the telltale smear of red on the black canvas of night.

Several seconds passed, the air thick with tension before you saw him. A speck of red landed on a roof two blocks down. Red Hood bolted, swallowed by the shadows before you fully realized you’d spotted him. You squashed the urge to call out to him.

Catching a glimpse of him every now and again was enough, you tried to reason with yourself. Knowing that if you ever ran into trouble again, Hood might be the one to save you was enough.

You almost believed yourself this time too.

To avoid the temptation of watching the sky, you retreated further inside with your journal. You sat cross-legged on your couch, anticipation buzzing through your veins as you tried to focus on the blank page. Much to your chagrin, words were harder to come by with your attention drifting back to the window every few seconds.

A distraction—that’s what you needed.

You turned on the TV, resuming where you left off in your rewatch of Bridgerton. It wasn’t long before you caught your attention straying toward the window once more. You groaned and laid out flat on the couch so you couldn’t see the window at all.

When he decided to grace you with his presence was outside your control. You knew that. The only logical step was to focus on something you could control. Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through a slew of unread texts. Your thumb hovered over the picture Steph had uploaded. One of her posing with Cass after one of their self-defense classes.

She tried texting.

She tried calling.

You never answered.

She had every right to ignore you now if she wanted to, but it was worth a shot. You clicked the ‘call’ button and raised the phone to your ear. At the very least, you could leave a voicemail. Steph deserved an apology, even if she never wanted to speak to you again.

The call connected after two rings. “My horoscope has never led me wrong. It told me to expect an unexpected call today.”

You struggled to contain your smile. At least you could count on Steph to remain consistent in these trying times. “If you expected it, can it be unexpected?”

“Psh. Begone with your logic. So, does this call mean you want to be my friend again?”

You had the decency to act sheepish. “I know it was shitty of me, to disappear. I just...” There was no real justification for your actions, and you didn’t try to explain yourself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cut you out like that. I was in my head, and if you want to tell me to pound sand, be my guest. But, if you’re amendable to an alternative, I would like to grab lunch tomorrow and catch up.”

Her phone crackled as she readjusted her phone, quiet save for a small hum of contemplation. You held your breath as you waited.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I am,” you answered honestly, “I got the pep talk I needed.”

You could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Good. Though, for the record, I’ve been known to give a pretty stellar pep talk myself. You could have come to me. I love telling people how great they are.”

She also loved devastating people with a single, well-aimed slight. You’d seen it for yourself on several occasion but thankfully had never been on the receiving end. Steph truly was a woman of multitudes.

You laughed despite yourself. “I’m getting used to friends. Sad, I know, but I panicked and this was the result. I am sorry. I’d like to make it up to you. Lunch is on me.”

“Ew, keep your money. I just want to hang out and talk shit about Dr. Edwin. I mean, can you believe he had the gall to throw a pop quiz at us? It's a philosophy class for fuck's sake? I wasn't even aware there were tests," she groaned before quickly adding, "You can also tell me about this life-changing pep talk while we’re at it.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. If she knew it came from Bruce Wayne, you’d never live it down. “Just a friend.”

“I thought you didn’t have friends?”

“Do you want to hang out or not?”

“Hm, suspicious,” she said with a sniff, “I’ll drop it for now, but we will talk about this tomorrow. Can I invite Cass? She missed you too.”

“Yeah, that sounds gr—”

Several things happened in that moment.

You heard the pop of a grappling gun.

Something large hit your fire escape.

A voice, warped by modulation, groaned.

Your heart lurched.

It couldn’t be...

“Hey? You still there?” Steph’s voice dragged you back.

“I—yeah, I’m here. Someone—I gotta go. I’ll text your tomorrow.” You hung up before Steph could respond and sat up.

Red Hood ambled to his feet, outlined by the flickering streetlamp outside. He rolled his shoulder experimentally, another round of colorful curses crackling from his mask.

“Hood?”

He froze.

Slowly, his attention shifted to where you perched on the couch, then toward the TV. You followed his gaze. Daphne Bridgerton hung off a ladder as Simon's hands disappeared beneath her dress. He pressed searing, open-mouthed kisses to her exposed throat, their moans heavy and loud in the silence that stretched on.

Your eyes widened as you hurried to turn down the volume, to turn it off, anything to spare you from the mortification of explaining the plot of Bridgerton to him.

The screen went black, and you whipped around to face him. “I—”

“I preferred Anthony’s season.”

Your brain turned a little fuzzy. “You’ve... you’ve seen it?”

“Out of morbid curiosity. Nothing more.”

The lie was far from convincing, but he stared back, daring you to call him on his bluff. You let it go because you had yet to fully accept that he was here, talking to you. He crouched to speak with you through your window. It was a sight to behold, his shoulders comically wide for the frame.

You stepped toward him, fearing moving too quickly might scare him off. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a while.”

That much was obvious. “It has.”

His fingers flexed around your windowsill, his leather gloves squeaking softly. Neither spoke. You waited, but he seemed reluctant to say anything more. That meant it fell to you to fill the empty air.

“Did you want to come in?”

It was smarter not to let him in. This was more than enough. No need to be selfish. And yet, you offered anyway.

He nodded and said, “Sure.”

Shoving the window up, he managed to squeeze inside, grunting softly as he rolled his shoulder again. You stepped forward to meet him halfway, nearly touching him now, but not quite closing the distance.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I, uh...” He stood a little straighter. “I fell just now.”

Another silence wrought with tension settled. You glanced around your apartment, wishing you’d known he would appear so you could have tidied up a bit. His attention, however, didn’t stray from you. It sat like a weight on your chest, pressing the air from your lungs.

After months of nothing, his presence shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, but your body fizzled with anticipation. Your hand fell back to your side. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“I wanted to see you.”

He recoiled, and you imagined that was something he meant to keep to himself. Still, his confession hung in the air between you, waiting for you to do something with it. He stayed rooted to the floor, not even the crackle of his breaths passing through his modulator.

You broke away from him as you considered your next move. You imagined what this meeting would be like. What you would say? How he would respond? Reality was far more daunting. Hesitantly, you turned to the small collection of books organized at the foot of your bed.

One chance.

You had to make this count.

Pulling three from the lowest shelf, you turned to face him once more. “I realize I don’t know anything about you.”

He didn’t correct you.

You pressed on, “I also realize that it’s probably safer that way considering who you are and the life you lead.”

Again, nothing.

Closing the distance once more, you offered him the stack. He reached for them, though you couldn’t tell if it was a deliberate choice or simply reactional. He released a shuddering breath that rippled through his modulator—the only indication that his brain hadn’t completely shut off.

Before you lost the nerve, you continued, “I read the Emily Wilson translation of The Odyssey. I know that feels like a lifetime ago, but I think it helped me understand the man who hides behind the mask a little better.” You looked at him in earnest as you fiddled with the strings on your yellow hoodie. “Our favorite books can say a lot about a person’s character. I wanted to share a few of my favorites with you too. Maybe this is how we can get to know each other without sharing too much.”

You waited for him to say something.

Anything.

Seconds passed, each more constricting than the last. This was the most vulnerable you’d been in a while. You’d hoped for a little more of a reaction, though it was difficult to know what was happening under that damn helmet. Your fingers twitched at your side as the silence stretch on between you.

You cracked first. “I’m sorry if this is weird, I just thought—”

He handed the books back to you, effectively shutting you up. You knew outright rejection was a possibility but experiencing said rejection was much worse. Your throat tightened as you fought back whatever knee jerk reaction clawed at your chest.

Once more, you were caught staring at each other, the space between you cavernous and achingly cold. Your grip tightened around the books, half-tempted to chuck them at his head.

How dare he come here.

How dare he toy with your emotions.

He could have stayed away.

He stepped toward the window. “I need to go.”

You didn’t stop him when he ducked through the window and shot into the night. Numbness quickly settled in his wake, soothing the sting of rejection as you set the books on your table and drifted listlessly back to your couch.

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A/N: Let me take a second to thank those of you who have taken the time to read and comment. It means a lot, and brightens my day whenever I get a notification! I hope you enjoy the ride.

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1800-fight-me · 1 day ago

Text

Begin Again

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature- As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst, canon level violence, cursing, yearning

Word count: Almost 4k

Synopsis: You have feelings for Rick that you're convinced are unrequited and it's made you irritable with your group. But what if you were wrong?

Author’s note: This is set sometime after the jail but sometime before Alexandria, but I took liberties with the timeline as well. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

“I need five minutes away from you and your incessant talkin’,” you grumbled as you sheathed your hatchet and walked away from Eugene.

Of course it was your luck you got paired with the rambling coward in the group’s efforts to clear out the building for a safe place to sleep for the night.

“Wait! But I-”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” you snapped as you walked away. You’d already cleared out your designated area and the others would finish soon, you weren’t leaving Eugene in any danger. You just needed some air.

It wasn’t his fault you were so irritable. It was your own fault for developing unrequited feelings for the leader of your group and then getting your feelings hurt every time he showed zero interest towards you.

You walked out the back of the abandoned warehouse and sat on the steps right outside the door. You took deep breaths as you looked up at the stars.

It was ridiculous and embarrassing, you knew that. There were far more important things to worry about, to get worked up over- like surviving each day. Killing walkers and any who threatened your group- that was essential, not your stupid crush.

And Rick, he had so many responsibilities on him- two children (one of whom is a baby), the safety and wellbeing of the entire group (which had been particularly difficult lately), and constant pressure to make life or death decisions (you had admit, he was pretty good at that). You couldn’t, and shouldn’t expect him to notice you or care about your emotions beyond the others in the group.

But, God - you wish he would. You wish he wanted to be around you. You wished he trusted your capabilities more. But no, he never wanted you right by his side in dangerous situations. That honor was always given to Daryl, or Glen, or Michonne. People he had more trust in.

You’d been there since the beginning- since the quarry camp and you’d come a long way in terms of fighting, just like so many others. But it seemed like all Rick saw was the scared young woman he’d first met.

He always grouped you with others in the group he also didn’t trust as much- like Eugene or Gabriel. It was infuriating.

You also knew that Rick was a man of few words, but you couldn't help but notice that he had even less to say to you than others he was closer with. Despite the fact that you volunteered to help take care of Judith more than anyone else in the group.

Your feelings for Rick- of affection, of love, of lust, were turning sour and rotten inside of you and twisting into something closer to jealousy and resentment.

Getting worked up was pointless, Rick would never look at you the way you look at him you realized as you wiped the tears from your eyes and took deep breaths.

But maybe a few extra minutes alone wouldn't hurt.

You leaned against the handrail on the side of the stairs and tried to think about anything but Rick. The gorgeous curls of his grey streaked hair, his beard that looked way too good even when coated in blood, his intense blue eyes, the low timbre of his voice, his protectiveness for those he cares about…

You hadn’t even realized you drifted off to sleep until the sound of growling and snarling woke you. The hatchet was in your hand immediately as you jumped up and took a defensive stance. Four walkers were close, one of which nearly grabbed you, but you side stepped it and buried your hatchet in its forehead.

Its dead weight pitched forward, it was a man twice your size, and landed on top of you.

“Shit!” you yelled as your head hit the concrete and your vision went momentarily fuzzy. You held tight to your hatchet and swung it with a groan as another walker launched itself and landed on top of the dead one on top of you.

You heard a deep voice yell your name.

“Here!” you gasped out as blood sprayed in your face as the second walker died- its dead weight crushed the air out of your lungs. Two more were reaching for you but they couldn’t quite reach you and you couldn’t quite reach them.

You heard the disgusting sound of a blade slicing into the brains of the walkers before the bodies of the others were hauled off you.

“Thanks.”

You took gasping breaths as you sat up and your eyes met Rick’s blazing blue gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked- concern evident in his voice and in the tension of his body as he knelt beside you.

He placed his large hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him in surprise.

“Just peachy,” you replied, “not a bite or a scratch on me, I promise.”

He hung his head in relief as he let out a deep breath and his fingers tightened slightly on your shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinkin’ bein’ out here alone?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You sighed deeply.

“I didn’t mean to doze off. You stuck me with Eugene again and I needed some alone time,” you grumbled.

He let out a huff of what might’ve been a laugh as he placed a finger on your chin and tilted it upwards so you would meet his eyes again.

“I thought you liked Eugene, you’re always laughin’ at him.”

You blinked in surprise and your mouth opened slightly.

“Like him? He’s an idiot… that’s why I laugh,” you said with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hm. Well I also pair you with him and Gabriel since you’re one of our best fighters and teachers and I was hopin’ they’d learn somethin’,” he hummed as he turned your face back and forth just to double check that you were unharmed.

“Wait, what? That’s what you think of me?” you blurted out.

He raised a brow at you and a small smile played on his lips.

“Of course, what did ya think?”

You shrugged and looked down as your face flushed with heat. “Thought you stuck me with ‘em cause you thought I was the same as them.”

This time he did truly chuckle.

“Wow. I thought you’d think better of my leadership. It wouldn’t make much sense to put the weakest links together, they’d die. Ya wanna put the strongest with the weakest so they learn to be stronger,” he explained while nodding his head.

“Oh. Yeah. That does make more sense,” you muttered.

He smirked at you and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Promise me you won’t go sleepin’ outside on your own again and I’ll give you a break from Eugene,” Rick said fervently.

“Deal,” you agreed all too quickly which caused a rough chuckle to slip past his lips again.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s go back inside with the others- you can nap in there where it’s safer,” he encouraged as he stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate nickname. You slid your hand into his much larger calloused hand and you had to actively stop your mind from wandering down a path of wondering how those hands would feel on the rest of your body.

You followed him back into the warehouse and then into the big open room everyone had begun to make camp in. He placed a hand on your back as he led you to sit next to him.

“You hungry?” he asked as he pulled granola bars out of a backpack and started to pass them out to everybody.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled and his fingers brushed against yours for far longer than necessary as you took the snack that would count as everyone’s meal for the night from him. It was better than the group’s dinner last night of absolutely nothing.

Today’s scavenging was more successful, thank God. Your group still needed to find a more permanent living situation, and this warehouse did not seem like the solution. But you weren’t in the habit of borrowing tomorrow’s worries. No, you were just glad you made it through another day alive and without losing anyone you cared about.

Maggie handed Judith to Rick and he placed a kiss on her forehead before settling her on his lap. She giggled at you as you made silly faces at her.

Your name was called in a very nervous voice and you looked over as Eugene approached you.

“I would be remiss if-”

“I’m sorry Eugene,” you cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was an ass.”

“While I do appreciate that, I also understand that I have a tendency to over-articulate in a way that can be grating on the nerves at times. So, I do apologize for becoming a pain in your rear end lately,” he said with a nod of his head that shook his ridiculous mullet.

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine, dude. We’re good,” you reassured him.

He nodded again then went back to his spot near Abraham and Rosita.

You looked over and realized Rick was watching you with raised brows.

“What?” you asked.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you be that nice before,” he said in a teasing tone and a playfulness in his light blue eyes.

You opened your mouth to reply but he said, “To anyone but the kids at least.”

“I’m plenty nice,” you snapped, “to everyone but you.”

He laughed and you muttered, “Shut up” as you began to adjust your backpack so you could lay your head on it.

You quickly turned your body away from him as you laid down so he couldn’t see the smile that adorned your lips.

You woke the next morning after nearly a full night’s sleep, which was a miracle in the post-apocalyptic world you lived in, to a jacket with a woollen collar laid atop you. You weren’t quite as successful at hiding your smile this time.

You yawned as you sat up and stretched and the jacket slid to your lap. It was clear you were one of the last to wake as most everyone was quietly moving around as they prepared for the day.

“You’re up! Finally! Dad said I had to let you sleep, but Judith has been wanting you,” Carl said from across the room.

You smiled, “I’ll take the little princess.” You reached your hands out and Carl crossed the room and placed Judith in your waiting arms. She giggled at your teasing as you spoke to her in a high voice and tickled her.

You noticed the granola bar carefully left next to your backpack and your heart warmed before you tore into it and devoured it in a few bites.

A few minutes later everyone seemed almost packed up and ready to go, you included. You’d gotten good at multitasking- holding and caring for Judith while taking care of other tasks (including sometimes killing walkers) had become a breeze for you. Rick came back inside the building as he holstered his gun and surveyed everyone’s progress.

“Let’s move out in five. We’ve got a lotta ground to cover today,” he ordered and everyone either nodded or made sounds of agreement.

He crossed the room as he came towards you and knelt down next to where you sat. He gently held Judith’s hand and the fondness in his gaze as he greeted her made your heart clench. As did the fact that he still had a soft look in his eyes when he looked up from where Judith sat in your arms and said, “Mornin’”.

“Hey,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks for letting me sleep in. I feel much less grumpy.”

“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he said with a wink before he stood up and offered you his hand. You allowed him to help you stand and struggled to hide how flustered he made you, especially when he squeezed your hand before letting go. You handed him his jacket back, which he took and promptly put on.

“It’ll also help the overall morale of the group if you’re not snappin’ at everybody,” he teased.

You scoffed and shoved your shoulder into his as you walked past him, but once again couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You glared at Maggie when she wiggled her eyebrows at you which only caused her to laugh.

The day continued on with your group once again hiking under the hot sun in an attempt to find more supplies and better shelter. The routine had become somewhat monotonous, but the constant life threatening situations made it feel a bit less so.

Today, the group stumbled upon an abandoned superstore. Rick ordered everyone to split up in pairs to explore and scavenge.

He asked Carl to stay outside with Judith and for Carol to protect them both.

When he called your name, you expected as usual to be grouped with one of the less combat inclined of your traveling companions but couldn’t stop your expression of surprise as he said, “You’re with me. Alright everyone, be quick and quiet and grab anything that could be potentially useful. Let’s go.”

The group split into their designated pairs and began to enter the store. Enough scouting had already been done that it seemed abandoned by walkers as well, but still it was always important to be cautious.

You followed Rick as he made his way to the back of the store to explore your assigned area. Hatchets in hand, you both made your way through the aisles without speaking in order to ensure you didn’t draw any of the dead in case they were hidden out of sight.

Finally, when everything seemed all clear Rick pulled off his backpack and you helped him to fill it with supplies.

You quietly searched the shelves and shoved aside anything useless. You tossed a bottle of ibuprofen at Rick- which he caught and dropped in his pack before he turned to search the shelf across from you.

Your gasp caused him to whip back around towards you with his hatchet raised.

“Look what I found!” you said excitedly, still cautious enough to keep your voice low.

Rick sighed deeply as he returned his hatchet to his belt and gave you an annoyed look as he glanced between your face and the unopened bag of mini chocolate donuts. They were most likely still good considering they’re chock full of preservatives.

You didn’t even know how long it had been since you had chocolate and your mouth was already watering at the thought.

“What?” you asked. “Y’don’t want any?”

He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for supplies.

“Fine, suit yourself. I was willin’ to share with you, but I’m not sharin’ with anybody else,” you grumbled as you shoved the donuts into your own backpack.

You heard him laugh softly and you smirked triumphantly. Your ability to dissuade the grumpiness and bring amusement to one another filled your heart with a light you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“We should check that back storage room in case there’s extra stuff back there that they never had the chance to put out on the floor,” you whispered after the two of you had cleared several aisles having only found a couple of necessities.

“Good idea,” he replied and led the way.

You followed his lead as you kept your hand on your hatchet.

There didn’t seem to be any walkers in the back, but it was dark. You held a flashlight while Rick ripped open boxes. You looked around the dark room, searching for any kind of movement in the dark as a sinking feeling plagued you.

He looked back at you with a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he held up a protein bar.

“I think you might be a genius, this whole box is full of ‘em,” he said as he gestured to the large cardboard box before him.

Your eyes widened in a look of horror. His brow furrowed but before he could even open his mouth to ask, you threw a knife at him.

It flew so close to his head that his curls rustled in the wind it created before it buried itself in the forehead of the walker whose teeth were inches away from Rick’s shoulder.

A look of shock overtook his expression as he looked between you and the walker, but you weren’t done. You yanked out your hatchet and stalked past him and took out the two walkers who were rounding the corner and heading towards the two of you.

Rick came up behind you with his hatchet in hand as well, but all seemed to be clear.

You took heaving breaths to calm the adrenaline that ran through your body.

You both holstered your weapons, including yanking the knife out of the walker’s forehead and wiping it clean, and Rick's hand encircled your wrist as he pulled you to turn to face him.

His eyes were still wide with surprise.

“Thanks.”

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I’m gonna. You just saved my ass,” he said fervently as he stepped closer to you.

It was like he’d just had this realization that you always supported him, always helped him, always had his back.

“Isn’t that what we do for each other? We’ve got each other's backs. That’s why our group works,” you replied.

He nodded but continued to look at you with such intensity that it made you take a step backwards and your back bumped into the wall behind you.

“Do you look at Daryl like this when he saves your ass?”

He shook his head and in a low gravelly tone said, “No.”

He looked ready to devour you as he took another step closer. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Rick?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath.

He practically lunged forward, one hand landed on the wall next to your head and the other spanned the side of your face to the back of your neck as he tilted your head up. His body pressed against yours, effectively trapping you between his heat and the wall.

Before you could even breathe, his lips were on yours. The brush of his beard was harsh against your skin as his lips firmly pressed against yours.

Your hands reached up to grip the curls at the base of his head, threading your fingers through the surprisingly soft hair. He took that as encouragement and deepened the kiss.

With a groan his lips pried yours open and his tongue pillaged your mouth with an intensity that left you whimpering. The heat of him, the taste of him, the fierceness of him was overwhelming and you kissed him back with all the passion he gave you.

It could’ve gone on for minutes, or maybe hours, you didn’t know but you never wanted it to end. You were ready to give him everything he wanted and more, but the sound of footsteps behind Rick had him yanking back from you. He whipped around, his gun already raised and cocked as he held a hand behind him to protect you and keep you safe behind his back.

Your lips still tingled from his affection, and as you peered around his shoulder you huffed in annoyance.

“S-sorry. I was elected to determine the whereabouts of both of you but as I have observed with my own two eyes, your safety is not currently in question. Therefore, I will take my leave, but you should know should this rendezvous continue on that the whole group is ready to move on out and is waiting on your approval and presence to do so. Yours truly will take leave now and report to the others that the waiting will continue for a little while longer,” Eugene rambled.

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he lowered his weapon. He still didn’t move an inch so you continued to be stuck between him and the wall. It honestly wasn’t a bad place to be, you weren’t complaining.

“Jesus, Eugene, it’s fine, just tell everyone to come help us carry these supplies,” Rick ordered.

“Yes sir,” Eugene replied quickly and turned around and left just as quickly.

You laughed quietly and Rick turned back around- still not giving you an inch of space- and placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head and leaned down so his face was incredibly close to yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured before he kissed you again. This kiss was slow, gentle, and full of warmth. The kind of kiss that might’ve been your first kiss if you weren’t living in a time of death and desperation for survival.

His lips lingered on yours long enough that you worried others would stumble upon the two of you again. You weren’t keen on having an audience, particularly not Eugene- you’d heard a rumor that he was into voyeurism of his friends which you certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with.

“Then what took you so long?” you asked in a teasing voice as Rick’s lips finally separated from yours and he took a step back as he ran a hand though his grey streaked curls.

“Well at first I thought you had a thing for Eugene, not me,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes. “Thought you were smart,” you muttered.

He grabbed your shirt and yanked you into his body. “Don’t be a smartass,” he reprimanded, but his lips found yours again in a brief kiss that negated all the harshness in his tone.

“I worried, I worried about too many things. But yesterday almost losin’ you and today with you saving me… I realized all those worries were ridiculous when none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. I couldn’t even think about losing you, especially not without you knowin’ how I feel about you,” he said with such fervency.

His confession left you breathless.

“I- I worried too much too. Worried that you’d never feel the same way I did. Worried that if I ever told you I’d lose you,” you said, your voice so quiet it was practically a whisper.

All of the reasons you’d both withheld yourselves seemed frivolous now as light filtered through the murky window on the other side of the room and bathed Rick in the brightness of new opportunity and fresh start. A chance for new love despite the horrors of the world.

So you kissed him once more, this kiss but a brief touch of lips, a taste of something more that was to come, a sweetness only utter devotion could bring.

All too soon, he stepped back far enough that as many in your group came through the swinging doors it would not appear that anything had changed between the two of you.

To everyone else, finding the stock of food in the back of that abandoned grocery store was the only life altering thing that had occurred. But when you met Rick’s ocean blue eyes you realized you could drown in the affection you found in his gaze.

All the former awkwardness and miscommunication between the two of you was completely forgotten as you smiled at him and he smiled back- eyes crinkling- and the whole world felt anew with possibility.

#rick grimes #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes twd #twd rick #twd fanfiction #rick grimes x fem!reader

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isa-beenme · 17 hours ago

Text

It took me long enough

Sorry for keeping everyone waiting

I don't know how i feel about this

But anyway, do we want a part 3? With happy ending or do we want to suffer? It honestly doesn't matter to me lol

Summary: Prythian saw the way that Rhysand's mate fell into depression but tried her best to get better. They saw the way that Cassian's mate fell into depression and turned it into pure anger and self-destruction. But... what if Azriel's mate simply... doesn't care?

What Was I Made For (Part. 1)

Maria (Part. 2)

Azriel was, once again, deeply engrossed in his work, the dimly lit room shrouded in the stillness that suited his nature. He meticulously reviewed intelligence reports, noting details that others might have overlooked. His mind was always a few steps ahead, always vigilant, and the weight of responsibility eternally rested heavily on his shoulders, a weight he sometimes thought would turn impossible to carry. Except when he had his mate with him. His world seemed to be brighter and more joyful. You had a quiet nature, almost quieter than him as some usually noted with surprise. But you were perfect in his eyes.

The mating bond was a constant presence in the back of his mind. It was a source of comfort, a reassurance that no matter how dark the world might become, he had someone who understood him completely, who completed him in ways above the world. Even though his bond was always silent. He tried his best to send love and happiness and every other feeling down the magical string inside him to his mate, but never received anything back. Rhys said it was because they had a new bond and didn't learn how to talk through it yet. But that was a long time ago, and the bond kept silent.

But lately, there was something different about it. It had grown ridiculously silent, eerily so, and Azriel couldn't quite place the reason or the difference. His connection with his mate had always been a bit unique, quieter than most when they sat together in a room and didn't talk for hours, reading or eating or working or just… existing, but the bigger absence of your presence was unsettling.

Days went by without you coming back home. But he was used to it. You would spend days in the woods or in another Court traveling or studying something. His shadows seemed to always want to talk to him about your moods, or show him something he didn't seem to notice about his mate. A ridiculous idea honestly, no one knew you better than him, there was nothing he wouldn't notice about his own mate. Everything was safe. Everything was fine. Everything was perfect. There was nothing to worry about.

It was just a casual visit from Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court, that finally brought the eerie silence to Azriel's attention. Helion, ever the jovial and inquisitive friend, inquired about his mate's trip. Azriel's brows furrowed as he considered the question. “What trip?” He asked, everyone's eyes turning to him with worry. He instinctively reached out through the bond, seeking a connection that had been his anchor for so long. But the void remained. It was as if the link between you had been severed, leaving Azriel in a disconcerting state of emotional limbo.

A chill crept through him as he realized the truth. You were gone. You had left without a word, without any indication that you were planning to do so. He always thought something would indicate if you were truly unhappy. But, if he remembers correctly, it was on any other ordinary day that you had left him. The emptiness in his chest, which he had sometimes interpreted as your indifference, now felt like a gaping void, and the pain of your absence hit him like a physical blow.

The following days were a blur of frantic searching and desperate inquiries. The shadows that had once been his comfort now whispered their condolences. Azriel's world had been shattered, and he was left to pick up the pieces. The bond, once silent, now echoed with his sorrow and longing, but you remained out of reach. The Spymaster, known for his ability to uncover secrets, had lost the most important one of all—his mate's intentions and desires. Azriel realized, too late, that he should have paid more attention to you, should have understood the depth of your struggle and the pain that may have driven you to leave.

He never knew what you truly wanted, everything always felt good to you, everything was nice and simple… wrong. He should've known. He should've seen that there were moments you were smiling but see you weren't there. It took him days to find your letter. Another thing he should've seen, but failed to look at.

In this city that had saved Azriel, but drowned you. Maybe you were too big of a fire to be restricted to such a small world that his life had offered, and, like fire, you needed to go. He tried to think of the good memories, of the moments you were in love with him, but in his thoughts, all he found was your letter, in your last words you had written in that calligraphy he never saw enough because you never showed him your writings:

“Sorry, I can't love myself the way you love me. And now I can't go back, my home is on fire, I am on fire and don't know how to stop. I needed to leave myself to find out where I was. But it's not that I feel bad with you, I just don't feel anything… I don't feel anything here, not the things I feel for you. Let me go, just this once, to understand what I was made for. Azriel, for once in my life, I wanna be the star that guides my path.”

As he is left with the hollowness of your absence, the crushing weight of his failure, and the endless uncertainty of your fate, he smiles to Velaris’ sky and wishes that you can shine to yourself as bright as you shine for everyone around you. Azriel's silence had become a reflection of his soul, a reflection of how you seemed to be, shattered and incomplete without the answer to why he feels so empty. He knows you are fine, but is he? If he could have one more chance.

#Spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader

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cece693 · 3 days ago

Note

ANOTEHR PART OF HR LOKIS BROTHER X BUCKY OLEALLSPE I LAV U 😭😭😣😣☺️

He's Cute Pt. 3

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: ongoing series because people like this, which is weird cause I never thought this would go off, but I don't hate it, loki makes an appearance, bucky is protective over reader, having the 'talk', even bad guys have people they love

Bucky’s hands still shook with lingering excitement whenever he recalled your last date. The two of you had been going out for a while now—casual walks through the city, late-night movie marathons in the Avengers Compound, even that weekend trip to a cozy little café upstate—and with every new memory you made, Bucky found himself falling deeper in love.

He’d never expected life to feel this…comforting. Even the nightmares that sometimes plagued him at night dulled around you. You had a knack for gently coaxing him out of his shell, whether through quiet conversation or a playful nudge toward some new, exciting Midgardian treat you wanted him to try.

Yet, despite this whirlwind of affection, Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. I love you. They stuck in his throat every time he tried, leaving him feeling both frustrated and a little guilty. It seemed too soon, too fast, too much. What if you weren’t ready? What if it scared you off?

So he kept that admission locked away, consoling himself with the fact that you hadn’t pressed him for big declarations yet—though you often looked at him with such tender warmth that he thought, maybe you already know.

The following morning, you greeted Bucky with your usual bright smile, eyes shining like you’d never seen a single hardship in your life. He knew that wasn’t true—you’d told him your share of Asgardian struggles and complicated family drama—but somehow, you still managed to see the world with a hopeful gaze.

“Good morning, Bucky!” you chirped, bounding into the common area. “Did you sleep well?”

He offered a small, affectionate smile. “Yeah,” he fibbed—well, half-fibbed, because seeing you now made every lost hour of rest worth it. “Ready for training?”

“Absolutely.” You picked up a spare towel. “But how about we grab coffee after? There’s this new flavor—mint mocha, I think? Wanda says it’s oddly refreshing.”

Bucky’s heart did that little flip it always did around you. “Sure,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

You never made it to the gym—or to the coffee shop. Halfway to the training room, the shrill wail of the Compound’s alarm cut through the corridors. Overhead lights flickered ominously, and Tony’s voice crackled through the intercom: “All hands on deck—Loki’s back, and he’s making a huge mess downtown. We need everyone. Now.”

Your face fell, a complicated mix of worry and anger. The last time Loki caused chaos, it ended poorly for Earth and for your family. “I’m sorry,” you murmured to Bucky, already moving to join the others. “I know you’ve had enough of these battles…”

He shook his head, grabbing his gear. “Not your fault.”

Together, you raced to the Quinjet, where Thor and the rest of the team were quickly assembling. Thor’s jaw was set, eyes stormy with concern. He muttered something about Loki “never learning,” while Tony, Sam, and Natasha readied themselves for battle. Bucky checked his weapon, heart thudding. He threw you a sidelong glance—he hated seeing the anxious tension in your posture. I’ll keep you safe, he vowed silently, one way or another.

New York’s skyline was tinged green in patches—every illusion Loki summoned seemed designed to confuse both civilians and the team. Tony soared overhead, blasting illusions and trying to pinpoint the real Loki, while Bruce (in Hulk form) tore through illusions that tried to tangle him. Thor, you, and Wanda worked together to dispel the biggest illusions, your combined powers punching holes in Loki’s illusions wherever you could.

Bucky fired round after round at illusory beasts, his sharpened instincts helping him sense the flicker of what was real and what wasn’t. He kept an eye on you, too—whenever you paused to catch your breath, or pressed a hand to your temple from overusing your Asgardian abilities, he felt the urge to run to your side.

He didn’t see the sudden swirl of green magic until it was too late. A shimmering barrier snapped into place around him, cutting him off from the rest of the fight. Bucky spun around, rifle at the ready, but the illusions outside the barrier went oddly silent. The world beyond turned hazy, muffled, leaving him alone in a translucent dome of Loki’s making.

“Sergeant Barnes,” came a sardonic voice behind him. Bucky spun, rifle raised, to find Loki standing there, tall and regal in his horned headpiece, green robes swaying. His gaze was cold, but there was a particular glint in those eyes—like a predator toying with its prey.

“Loki,” Bucky growled, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Oh, please,” Loki drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “Drop your useless weapon. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so long ago.”

Bucky hesitated, jaw set tight. He didn’t lower his rifle, but he didn’t fire either. Around them, the city echoed with chaos—screams, blasts of magic, and the roar of rampaging illusions. Yet here they stood in a strange, still corner, as if Loki’s mere presence had carved out a pocket of calm in the madness.

“What do you want?” Bucky demanded, striving to keep the tremor from his voice. He’d been in fights far worse than this—yet something about Loki’s eerie composure sparked a sense of dread.

“What I want…” Loki repeated, tipping his head in mock consideration. “Hardly matters. I’m only here because it has come to my attention that you’ve taken an interest in my dear brother.”

Bucky blinked, confusion warring with anger. “Thor? I’m not—”

Loki let out a theatrical sigh. “Not that lughead, no.” He narrowed his eyes, smirk twisting. “I speak of my younger brother. The gentler one—(Y/N). The one you’ve been courting.”

At those words, Bucky’s grip on his rifle loosened involuntarily, surprise flickering across his features. “That’s between me and him. Stay out of it.”

Loki’s predatory grin only widened. “Oh, how adorable. A mortal telling me where I can and cannot interfere.” Magic crackled around his fingertips, illuminating the sinister shape of his horns. “Let’s make something clear, Sergeant Barnes: I may indulge in chaos, but I do not tolerate anyone trifling with my brother’s heart.”

Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness over you, matching Loki’s venom in a different way. “I’d never hurt him. Don’t act like you know me.”

“But I do know you,” Loki countered, taking a step forward, voice dropping to a chilling hush. “You’re a man of ghosts, of nightmares. You wear your sins on that metal arm for the world to see. Don’t assume I haven’t researched your past. The Winter Soldier…” He let the words linger. “You have a trail of blood behind you, mortal.”

Bucky’s pulse pounded in his ears. He refused to look away. “That’s over. He sees me for who I am now, and I’d do anything to protect him.”

A pause, and Loki’s lips curled in something close to a sneer—though a flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes. “Oh, I believe you think that,” he said. “But let me be perfectly clear: I might make sport of realms; I might sow chaos when it amuses me. However, if you ever harm my brother—if you break his heart or drag him into your darkness—I will ensure your suffering is something legends are written about.”

A chill coursed down Bucky’s spine, but he refused to flinch. “I—care about him,” he said softly, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

“Good,” Loki whispered, eyes glinting dangerously. “Then we understand each other.” He paused, scanning Bucky’s features as though searching for lies. “He has always been different. Too kind for Asgard. My father often overlooked him, but I—” Loki’s lips curled in faint distaste, “I won’t.”

Bucky shifted, uneasy at this glimpse of Loki’s protective side. “If you really care,” he said carefully, “then let this go. Stop this chaos you’re creating.”

Loki rolled his eyes, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m not here to debate my plans with you, mortal. I’m here to warn you. Do right by him, or face consequences far worse than any Hydra program.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around his weapon. He hated being cornered like this, but a flicker of understanding—of pity, even—touched him. Loki’s brand of protectiveness was twisted, but it was rooted in genuine concern for his younger brother. “Message received,” Bucky said, voice gruff. Loki’s eyes narrowed one last time, as if to emphasize his threat. Then, with a theatrical swirl of his cape, he vanished in a burst of green light. Instantly, the barrier separating Bucky from the rest of the fight melted away, sound and motion crashing back in.

He stumbled slightly, adrenaline hammering in his veins. Looking up, he saw you rushing toward him over the rubble-strewn street, worry etched in your features. Behind you, illusions flickered and dissipated as Thor and Wanda worked together to dismantle Loki’s hold on the city. “Bucky!” you shouted, reaching him in a few quick strides. “Are you okay? Loki’s illusions—what happened?”

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath, lowering his rifle all the way. “He just wanted to talk. Threatened me if I ever—” He hesitated, mind flicking to the exact words Loki used. “If I ever hurt you.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “He trapped you in the middle of a battle to warn you about me?”

Bucky nodded, swallowing a knot in his throat. He forced a small, wry smile. “Yeah. Guess big brothers come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Gods,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky said quietly. He reached out, resting a tentative hand on your shoulder. “I told him I wouldn’t hurt you. And I meant it.”

Something in your gaze softened. Around you, the remaining illusions fell away with shattering bursts of green energy. The Avengers closed in, readying for Loki’s next move—but for a moment, it was just you and Bucky standing there amid the debris, an unspoken promise shining between you. “Come on,” you said softly, covering his hand with yours. “We should help the others.”

Bucky squeezed your shoulder, nodding. “Right behind you.” And as the two of you headed off to rejoin the fray, Bucky felt a fierce protectiveness surge within him—one that matched Loki’s, if not in cruelty, then in devotion. Because no trickster god, no illusions, and no ghosts of his past would stop him from doing right by you.

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