#i think i should do internal shots more often....... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvel-snape-writes · 3 months ago

Note

hii i found your work recently and i love it so much!! would you be interested in continuing the storyline of the solo snape one-shot and writing one about him and the mirror of erised?

Infatuated Reflections Plagued By Self-loathing

Severus Snape x 🤫female character🤫/The Mirror of Erised

5.7k+ words

18+ solo smut 🤭

Thank you to the person who requested this! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that the rollercoaster of emotions does your request the justice it deserves! 😊🫶

You’d have thought that for someone who was so often described as ‘an overgrown bat’ that nightfall would have been his favourite time of day, but not for Severus Snape. In reality, he hated when the day was over, the marking was done, and he had no other vices to drown out his own thoughts. The tossing and turning in his bed was often as a result of this. Though, albeit more often than he’d like to admit, he would sometimes think about how it must feel to spend the night with someone, rather than by himself. Not even necessarily for any fooling around, more for the company. Someone to hold, perhaps, or even someone to be held by. He knew he would be far too nervous, far too out of his depth, even, in order to hint at anything more. But just to have someone to carry him through the loneliness, that he couldn't deny he had wished for now and then.

Right now, he was sat at his desk and still trying to find different ways in which to procrastinate making the journey from his armchair to his bed. He couldn't put his finger on why, but tonight he felt a mixture of loneliness and a slight twinge of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps the company he was longing for tonight was something more along the lines of affection than just another body to lay to the side of in silence. His chin rested on the palm of his hand with his elbow bent on the table as he pondered into the gentle flicker of his desk candle how exactly could he get what he so craved whilst avoiding the embarrassment of speaking or bumping into a single person. He concluded only one answer: taking a visit to The Mirror of Erised.

‘Don’t be so absurd’, was the first internal voice of response. He stared down at the neatly stacked pieces of paper upon his desk and let out a deep sigh through his hooked nose. ‘You want company, you do not wish to be a burden, you do not wish for embarrassment. It is the only way’, a different voice then continued as his lip twitched, ‘Go’.

“Can I bring the mirror back to bed with me?” He asked out loud into the silence, his mind tampering with the slightly seducing reflections he may see in the mirror if it really did show the depths his desires would go on rare occasions.

There were few things he hated more than feeling like this. Very rarely he would let himself to give in to his own desires. Very rarely he would allow himself to even entertain the idea. On the rare occasion he did, it would be over in a flash; whether that be because of the self-loathed feeling of embarrassment he would bring upon himself for letting it come to that point where he had no choice except to chase his own release, or whether it was because the times between allowing pleasure into his life were so far apart that once he started, it only took a few minor strokes to reach his craved result; the hot, sticky blobs landing upon him almost as white as his own skin.

He could feel the frustration beginning to grow. It bubbled from the pit of his stomach and sent tingles down his thighs, clenching his fists a few times whilst swallowing hard. The times where he craved company that went further than just to have another person’s presence with him were what he’d fear the most. Not knowing how long it was going to last or how he would deal with it. Whether he would dare to allow himself to go through with the inevitable when it got too painful to even sleep. The feeling, the urges would come in waves. To him, they were more likened to waves of nausea — or should he say, they were about just as unwelcome as feeling nauseous. However, the way that one would ‘feel better’ after having thrown up after a long time of feeling sick, this was the same way he felt after he had given in to his own desires; not happy necessarily, certainly not proud, maybe a little relieved, but mostly just glad it was over.

Begrudgingly, he stood up from his armchair and brushed his hands down the front of his buttoned pyjama shirt. He pushed his chair back into his desk and glanced around the room to try and decide what would result in less speculation or questions if he were to be caught walking the corridors after hours. He was comfortable in his black bedclothes, but he definitely didn't have the confidence to be walking down the halls in them. His go-to solution was to grab his cloak and wrap it around his shoulders — and as much of his body as possible without looking completely ridiculous.

He stood by his chamber door for a few moments, one hand fixed on the handle and one pushing through his hair as he had a few last minute hesitations about going to find The Mirror of Erised. What would someone say if they saw him? What story would he make up? What if someone was in front of the mirror already? The thoughts took over his mind for several moments and he sighed deeply, taking one glance back at his empty bed before making the final decision to go ahead with the plan to at least attempt to fill his loneliness.

Thankfully, the corridors were quiet, or quiet enough at least to be able to hear if anyone else was coming in any other direction. Knowing exactly what to do and where to go in order to find The Mirror of Erised irritated him a little as he was hoping by the time it was in view, his desires may have calmed. They hadn’t.

As he saw the mirror in the distance, he pondered for a short while if this would be worth it at all. Would it make him feel even worse if he couldn't even converse with whatever would be standing in front of him? He stepped closer to it. What if he could cast a spell and make it talk? Or would that make it even worse?

He grumbled to himself as he approached the mirror and stood at the side of it, still in absolute disbelief that he had allowed himself to come this far. He pulled his cloak around him a little bit tighter as if for some sort of comfort — for the first time in a long time he actually felt a bit nervous. As he side stepped a little closer to the mirror, still not yet in front of it, he thought of all the possibilities that could be reflected; Which would it choose? Out of all the things in Severus Snape’s ‘ideal world’, which, in this exact moment in time, would The Mirror of Erised select as his most his desired?

He felt his heart race at the thought of the several possible outcomes and was unable to even move his feet, almost as if they had been glued to the floor. Often coming across as being so sure of himself and his actions, he was not familiar with this sudden anxiety surrounding the idea of standing in front of a mirror. He knew deep down it was because he was afraid of seeing for himself what it was that he really wanted, because if he could see it, then he knew it was real, and delving into his own thoughts and feelings and putting himself and his own desires first was something he hadn't done for years.

He took a deep breath and lifted one of his feet in order to step in front of the mirror before stopping himself in the process as he had a sudden thought; what if he were to cast the potential ‘talking’ spell on the mirror before standing in front of it? That way, if he didn't like what he saw, he could at least threaten whoever was on the other side with something if they didn't promise to keep tonight and his helplessness a secret.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket and gestured it toward the mirror, muttering the first thing that came into his head. He lowered his arm and placed his wand back into his pocket, waiting a few moments in complete silence. The breath he drew this time was even deeper than the one before, genuinely afraid of what he may discover next. His heart thumping in his chest and his hands growing sweaty, he took his first step in front of the mirror. Afraid to look at the image in front of him, his eyes instinctively closed once he was in line with it.

Just open them, Severus. Whatever you see, it is not real, he told himself, already embarrassed with how pathetic he felt. He calmed his breathing and swallowed hard, opening his eyes with a slight squint at first before opening them fully. To his surprise — or relief — there wasn't anything in the reflection of the mirror other than darkness. He couldn't even see himself. Not that he and his self-loathing was upset about it. He let out a shaky breath and stared directly at it, trying his best to focus on if there was anything he was missing. He arched a brow and sighed in defeat.

You can’t even stare into a mirror right, he grumbled inside his head, pulling his cloak around him tightly again and turning away from the mirror. He began to walk back to the door and pressed his lips together hard, unsure of if he was more angry or disappointed in himself. Even the mirror didn't have anything to offer him. Only seeing his own reflection? He knew there was a reason why he had never used the mirror for himself. What could a cold, reserved man possibly desire?

Already dreading who he would potentially bump into down the corridors back to his chamber, he placed his hand on the handle of the door to leave the room. The mirror was facing away from him now, his back toward the room, and he couldn't wait to pretend he had never even tried to communicate with it. He twisted the handle and began to pull it open, scowling to himself until he heard a voice from behind him speak into the empty room, “Severus, wait…”

The gentle voice shook him to his core, placing his free hand flat upon the wall at the side of the doorframe to try and steady himself. For a moment he convinced himself that he had imagined it, but the same gentle tone called for him again. His lips parted and he felt a shiver run down his spine, his fingertips now turning white from how hard they were pressed against the wall. His heart rate intensified wildly as he turned around and began walking back toward the mirror.

Once again, he approached the front of it with his eyes closed, still not fully convinced that his spell had worked. Had he made the mirror say what he craved most rather than showing him? Gradually, he opened his eyes again to find his answer. His head was dipped when his eyes opened fully, seeing only dainty feet. It was as his eyes trailed further up herbody that he felt himself dizzy with impossibility. Whether the reflection could speak to him or not, he found himself absolutely speechless. His eyes welled as he felt genuine emotion surge through his body for the first time in longer than he could even remember.

“I- It can’t be…” His voice trembled, bringing one of his hands to his mouth and speaking into it, “C-Can’t…”

His head shook as his eyes met the reflection in the mirror. Instead of seeing himself with what he apparently most desired, he only saw her alone. But that was enough. If he had seen himself with her after all these years, he was convinced he would've collapsed in an instant. She looked older, though she still had all the same familiarities he was so used to gazing upon in his youth. Still convinced that he was seeing things, he took a step closer. The slim figure in the mirror moved with him, shocking him to the point of stumbling backward a little and struggling to keep his balance. He desperately reached to a nearby table to try and stabilise himself, feeling himself growing more and more lightheaded by the second.

“Just take a breath,” She said, her eyes following him from the mirror, “Compose yourself,” The softness of her voice made him tingle, “Everything is going to be okay.”

“You’re not here,” He shook his head manically, covering his face with his hands as he leant back against the table, “You are not here.”

“Look at me and tell me I’m not, Severus.” She replied.

Severus slowly lowered his hands from his face again and tried not to act so startled this time when he was met with her reflection yet again. He swallowed hard and exhaled deeply. She was every bit of stunning that he remembered. Even more so, actually. Now she looked a similar age to him, he could begin to imagine what life would have been like — could have been like. But that thought made his eyes well even more.

“How are you, Severus?” She asked in a gentle tone.

“Oh, that used to be such a simple question to answer…” Severus laughed weakly, his hands trembling madly as he dared to look her reflection in the eyes again.

“Well, you’re here,” She shrugged, “Living, breathing—”

“Barely,” Severus swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’d say more just existing.”

“Oh, Severus…” It was only two words but the way she said it earned a singular tear to run down his cheek. The caring, tender tone made him feel as if she had reached out her hand caressed it. He looked up at her reflection helplessly, catching his lip between his teeth when it began to quiver.

“I can't…” He inhaled shakily, “B—Believe it…”

His chest physically pained from what was in front of him, still only half believing it was true.

“What is it?” She asked, narrowing her eyebrows empathetically and speaking again when Severus failed to do so, “I cannot leave if I am what you desire the most. That's the rules. The mirror can't lie.”

Severus nodded uneasily, mumbling under his breath, “I do not deserve to desire,” He shrugged simply, “Wherever you are, I just hope you’re happy,” He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, “Whatever that means.”

“You deserve more than anyone to desire, Severus,” She smiled softly, “A man who has prevented himself from such feelings for so long.”

Severus’ lip twitched, now staring at his feet.

“It is only natural to—”

“Be weak and give in to it?” Severus asked, arching a brow.

“Do not think of it as giving in, think more that you are allowing yourself to feel.” She smiled kindly.

Severus felt himself go strangely numb and electric at the same time. His breathing became jittery and he was struggling to try and figure out what exactly it was that she meant. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything, it was more that he felt everything all at once; shock, sadness, happiness, helpless, regret, heartbreak, loneliness, that so-called desire she spoke of, aroused, even, and when he raised his head to look at her again, justified for all of the above.

“I won't tell if you don't, Severus.” She whispered.

“I-I’m sorry?” Severus widened his eyes.

Before he knew it, his mouth was as wide as his eyes. He watched in awe as she began to undress in front of him in the mirror, half not thinking he was worthy to witness such beauty, half being in so much awe he was unable to bring his eyes away. She stopped once she got to her underwear and left those items of clothing on, looking back into his eyes now. Severus’ eyes quickly diverted, however, now shyly looking at the floor

“For heavens sake, just do what every fibre of your being is telling you to,” She stood now with her hand on her hip, “Take a look.”

Severus’ breathing grew heavier, afraid of what would become of him if he looked at her properly.

“For me?” She bit her lip.

He took a shaky breath and lifted his head, “I…” He swallowed hard.

“Deserve to stop putting off your own desires?” She finished for him.

“I haven't had single desire in my life since the day you...” He began to admit, though couldn't finish the sentence, so only exhaled a sad sigh.

“That is absurd, Severus.” She shook her head.

“I have been afraid to open myself and love again because I fear the loss of it,” He forced himself to look into her eyes, “Because of the loss I felt when I lost you.” His voice was shaky, unsure of whether he felt more or less pathetic admitting this to a reflection in a mirror rather than an actual human being.

“We cannot never love again in fear of loss, Severus,” She frowned, “Otherwise we would never love again.”

“That is the point.” His words were spoken with a slightly sharper tongue this time, “In reality, your death barely happens to you at all, it happens to your friends and family. They’re the ones who feel it. They're the ones who have to deal with it. Day in, day out. Nothing but pain and sadness, nothing but—”

“Severus, Severus!” She butted in, in an attempt to stop him digging himself a deeper hole, “I am here right now, aren't I? The one thing you desire the most? The one telling you that it is okay to have desires and lust. It is completely natural to have a burning want for something and go ahead and allow yourself to feel it,” Their eyes met in the mirror again, “Why is it yourself that you are so unforgiving?”

“Why do you insist on staying and breaking my heart?” He spoke with the most pained expression on his face.

“This is me telling you that it is okay. What is it that you want from me, permission to give in to what you crave the most?” She asked.

“Yes!” Severus practically pleaded, his eyes burning with threat of bursting into tears.

HERE

He watched as the image in the mirror reached behind, unclasping her bra and dropping it carelessly to the floor whilst not even breaking eye contact for a moment, “Is that enough?”

Severus’ body shivered from head to toe at the image before him. His eyes twitched. His lips twitched. His cock twitched. He swore he could even hear his heartbeat. Even though she wasn't real, even though she was just a reflection, the effect she was having upon him that once felt like a sin now felt so natural. It was as if her permission had allowed him to feel this way. As if that was all he ever needed in order to allow himself pleasure in anything after her death.

“Fuck…” He muttered under his breath as cock stirred in his underwear, unable to tear his eyes off the image in front of him. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over his crotch and inhaled sharply when he felt the obvious bump.

“Too scared to see the damage, Severus?” She taunted him through the mirror.

“You—”

“And don't even think about blaming me,” She snapped quickly, “This is all inside your head, not mine.”

Severus’ lips pressed together — he was far too aroused at this point to argue. Even if it would be arguing with a reflection in a mirror. He felt like he was having an out-of-body-experience. His palm brushed back and forth over the bump in the front of his pyjama bottoms and he swallowed hard, feeling the temperature in his body rise. The instinct to chase his arousal had hit him like a ton of bricks; he wanted it, needed it, and had been instructed to do so by the only person who could command him to do anything.

“Is this you giving in to your desires, Severus?” She asked, biting her lip from the view.

“Giving in to you,” He inhaled shakily, “Always giving in to you.”

“Show me.” She whispered.

Severus felt a shiver all the way down to the tip of his cock from her tone of voice and pushed his hand into the front of his pyjamas, then boxers. He could feel himself throb from the simple motion of just brushing his fingertips over the bare skin. For the first time in a long time, he showed barely any hesitation as he wrapped his hand around his cock completely, gently giving himself some slow strokes as his body adjusted to this rare form of pleasure.

“Y…” He squeaked as he watched her topless reflection, “You…”

“Feast upon the image to your hearts content, Severus,” She pressed her hands against the sides of her breasts and pushed them together, “If my permission is what it took to allow a little only natural pleasure into your life, it’s all yours.”

“All… mine…” He breathed out, the thought alone making his body ache with want. His wrist also ached from the restriction his clothing was giving him as he continued to stroke his length up and down.

“Do you like the thought of that?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Fuck, yes.” He nodded quickly.

“I told you to show me.” Her eyes gestured to his hand moving back and forth in the front of his pants.

Severus inhaled sharply, his eyes remaining completely fixated to hers as he pushed down the front of his pyjama pants and boxers. He moaned quietly at the new freedom of his wrist, but it still wasn't enough. He pushed the waistband of both items of clothing down so that they were set below his hips, allowing his pulsating length and aching balls to be completely free and on show. His mouth continued to gape as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing himself gently before starting to stroke it up and down again, bringing himself even closer to the mirror.

“That’s it, Severus,” The reflection cooed, “Chase that feeling you've been denying yourself for all this time.”

He reached out a shaky hand and placed it against the boarder of the mirror, helping steady himself as he stood with parted legs. His fist slid up and down with ease, perhaps a little bit too much ease, but this situation was playing with his head in more ways than one. Usually, on the scarce occasions he found himself with his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes would be closed in order to flood his head with images that would get him off the fastest, but now his eyes remained open. Those images were right in front of him. His eyes took their time in tracing every detail of her bare body, the only item left upon her being her bottom underwear. The fact that is was exactly how he had imagined her to be, exactly what he dreamed to have and hold each night he closed his eyes; beautifully aged, just how he always pictured she would be. His eyes settling upon her breasts earned a particular throb from his cock, urging him to speed his hand up. Her eyes followed his and he let out several soft whimpers, his lips still parted as precum leaked into his fist, making the movements even slicker. He was completely and utterly mesmerised by her reflection.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. Every inch of her, skin on skin. He craved it. He had never seen such beauty like this so close. Sure, he had dreamed of growing old with her and being able to hold her at every stage of aging life, but he never thought he would get this close. So close, but yet so far. So out of reach, but such a stunning reflection before him. It was like turning torture into art.

“Agh, shit…” He grunted when he purposely brushed his hand under the head of his cock with a little more pressure a couple of times. He rolled onto his tiptoes and felt his entire body shudder in pleasure.

“Are you sure you want to chase the ending that fast, Severus?” Asked the mirror.

“Wh-Wha…” His heavy gaze lifted to hers.

“You don't want it to be over so quickly, do you?” She spoke softly, “Not after how long you've just gone without it,” Her eyes glanced down to his pumping fist for a brief moment, “Savour it.”

One hand stayed against the boarder around the mirror and the other remained around his cock, breathing heavily as his movements slowed down. Instead, he tapped his fingertip against the tip of his length and inhaled shakily when he saw the string of precum attached between them. He whimpered manically as he spread the stickiness around the head of his cock and narrowed his eyebrows, pressing his lips firmly together to try and not make a sound. After a few moments, he wrapped his fist a little looser around himself and parted his legs slightly more. He let go and glanced down at his stubborn arousal, lightly tracing a sticky finger back and forth over the prominent vein bulging against his skin.

“Oh, oh, ohhh…” He hissed through clenched teeth, but he couldn't take it for long; before he knew it, his fist was back around him fully again, though loose enough still to allow swift movements.

“Are you going to fuck your hand and pretend it's mine?” The reflection asked, biting her lip as her eyes fell to his hand again, “Pretend it's me?”

His free hand now lay flat against the border of the mirror and he took a deep, shaky breath. His eyes met with hers and he began to slowly move his hips back and forth, thrusting into his open fist. He shuddered in pleasure and dared himself to tighten his fist and his mouth fell open, moaning “fuck” every few seconds. His hand moved from pressing against the border of the mirror to gripping onto it and grunting every time he bucked his hips, his fingertips now turning white and slightly painful from how desperately he was holding onto it.

“Mmmhh…” He groaned lowly, feeling himself pulsate madly in his grip.

“You’re being so good to yourself, Severus,” Her reflection purred, “Does it feel nice to allow yourself to give in to your desires?”

Severus couldn't even fathom a verbal response. His jerking wrist was now working in time with his hips, his lips pressed firmly together to try and not allow any louder moans to pass through them. His fist twisted and moved in perfect rhythm, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was doing it without guilt. His eyes which would usually be squeezed shut to try and block out the shame were — albeit heavy — wide open and burning into hers. There wasn't a thing that could stop him at this point, not even the fact that he hadn't locked the door. He was so focused on chasing his release at this point, he couldn't even spare himself a moment to reach for his wand and cast a spell to lock it, either.

“Ugh, fuck, I…” He inhaled sharply, “I-I’m so close…” His breathing became even more jittery, “S…”

“Are you going to cum, Severus?” Her reflection asked, biting her lip.

“Y—Yes… yes!” He whined helplessly, his fist firing relentlessly up and down his entire length.

“Are you going to cum for me, Severus?” Her voice was the most seductive thing he had ever heard.

His thighs tensed and the flickering sparks in the pit of his stomach grew into embers and began to rise higher and higher, earning a jolt of his hips into his hand. He quickly removed his hand from the mirror and placed it just beneath the tip of his length, his jaw tensing and toes curled, suddenly feeling the pleasure of a thousand summer days spent with her hit him all at once in some form of sticky euphoria as his climax began to land upon his cupped hand. He felt dizzy with pleasure and had no choice other than to place his hand back against the border of the mirror again to steady himself whilst his other hand was far too busy pumping up and down his length — the orgasm of which was now spraying against the mirror itself.

“Oh, g—good, god!” Severus’ voice was practically strangled, the veins in his neck almost popping out as his head swung back in ecstasy, “Fuck! Mmmh!” His fist continued to pump recklessly up and down his length and his eyes rolled back, string after string of its effect continuing to land upon the mirror. His wrist ached but the movements continued, grunting breathlessly as he refused to stop.

“Severus, Severus,” She whispered softly as his head remained tilted back, “Say my name…” She spoke in a firm but gentle voice.

Severus regained the strength to lift his head again and opened his eyes, twitching cock still in hand and feeling his heart skip a beat once their eyes met again. He swallowed hard and panted heavily, paying no mind to the mess he had made upon the mirror now trailing down the surface of it. The relief he felt was like something he had barely ever experienced. Euphoric, guilt free relief.

“Say it.” She whispered again, smiling sweetly.

Severus licked his lips shakily, his eyes flickering to the reflection of her lips in the mirror and leaned forward. He pursed his lips and allowed his eyes to fall shut as they pressed upon the mirror itself whilst whispering, “Lilly.”

He placed his hand flat upon the mirror at the side of his head in some hope of being able to feel her. His lips remained pressed against the mirror in some hope he would be able to taste her. He couldn't. It was just cold. Numb. And when he pulled back to gaze upon Lilly’s reflection in the mirror once more, so was his heart. She was gone.

He felt like his heart had been completely torn out of his chest. His eyes welled with tears; frustration, heartbreak, shock and sadness all mixed into one. His hand pressed against the mirror again as if hers would be there to touch it on the other side. Still nothing.

“N—No… no.” His lip quivered, desperately trying to think of any way to bring her back to him again, “Tell me it wasn't real…” He inhaled shakily, “Tell me I just imagined it…” His burning, tear filled eyes stared back at only his own reflection, “No, no, no!” His self-loathing surging through his veins like never before, “My heart is already breaking, why don't you just twist the fucking knife?!”

He felt beyond overwhelmed with emotion, as if he was about to hyperventilate as he panted. In a moment of both weakness and madness, his fist pounded against the mirror a couple of times, though only for want to hurt himself rather than the reflection of her that once stood there. The room was silent despite his sobs. He forced his red eyes open and parted his trembling lips, shaking his head as he stared helplessly into the mirror whilst whimpering.

“I just…” He inhaled deeply, pleading loud in his voice now, “I just cannot face myself alone again.”

He turned himself around and leant back against the mirror, sliding down it with the hope of landing and sleeping in herembrace at last. He buried his face in his hands and continued to bawl, tears now seeping through his fingers and trailing down his wrists. Anyone who walked past the room would think that something was dying inside, but to Severus it felt as if something already had; a wound that had already been far from healed ripped wide open again and stinging him all the more this time in the process. He felt what it was like to have her there with him and then lose her right in front of him all over again.

‘Why had she gone? This wasn't how the mirror worked.’, were the words whizzing around his head. He hated that he had come to this conclusion, but he saw no other way; deep down, he would never want her to see him like this; miserable, embarrassed, alone. His desire was for her to tell him that giving in to what he desired most was okay, and she did that. She saw him with his lustful, loyal eyes. She saw him allowing himself to feel pleasure after all these years of avoiding it, feeling unworthy. He didn't desire for her to see how he really felt now that she was gone and the years since. She really only ever got the better version of him, and even subconsciously he made sure of that.

He had never really known love until it came to him in the form of her, and he felt as if his heart was no longer needed ever since she was no longer here. He knew even if he did allow himself to feel for someone who wasn't her, she would always be the constant in his life — regardless of whether she was living, a reflection, or not here at all. She lived so deeply in his heart she was almost like a dagger; if removed, he would die. The promise he made because of her kept him alive. Though far gone from this world, she kept him alive.

“Lilly…” He finally removed his hands and rubbed his puffy eyes, sniffling, “Oh, my sweet Lilly,” He swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping under his eyes, “Don't leave me in charge of my own heart. It only knows you.”

He heard the rain hit against the window and took a deep breath. Even the sky was crying, mourning with him all over again. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The infatuated reflections plagued by self-loathing, the once guilt-free pleasure that he felt only a few moments ago was gone, just like her, and only left him wondering how it was possible for something so beautiful to cause him such pain.

---

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts 🫢😁♥️

Tags:

@dracolilhoe @pinterestwhore145 @dailyalanrickman @liviacarol88-blog @bayleebubble @liv2post @sorryimdyingrn @icytrickster17 @randomcreator-09 @fluffyneondinosaur @dontrunannabelle @lupinmoonlights @bibliosophie @fallingfor-fics @eyesinmymindinmay @taybabylovesyou @its-just-me-chey @peppiloll @odetolithium @dreamshopesfantasies @hazedwords @megladon045 @niftysnazzy @sweeneytoddsmainbitch @benedict-cbe @overgrownbat @bratty-tingz @speedycupcakepaper @severinaprince @acupnoodle @hamiltonstann @honeyshampoo @snifellus @nidamae-approvedhpfanfics @hauntinq-6 @callm3c0nfus3d @wh0reforthemarauders @nooneeveryonenoone @mrs-snape5984 @vulnus-sanare @missgurlthang @thesecretsofseverussnape @evil-eyebrow @darlingvica @indigosparkle444 @sevprince-91 @ficswjackson @secretpandaconnoisseur @dark-t1des @nyx-greenwood99

166 notes · View notes

cmncisspnandmore · 1 year ago

Text

Dont Own Me

Dont Own Me: Simon 'Ghost" Riley X Medic!Reader

Pairing: Simon Riley X Medic! Reader

Warnings: NSFW; MDNI 18+

Summary: Trying to go out with someone doesnt go as planned. Not when Ghost has something to say about it.

Beta Reader: @cordeliawhohung

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! Y/N, wait up! Do you have a moment?” A voice called after you as you walked down the hall towards the Clinic. You pause, turning around to see one of your fellow medics running after you. You watch as he jogs towards you, and comes to stop a few feet in front of you.

“What's up Michael?” You ask, shoving your hands deep into the pockets of your fatigues. Michael takes a moment to catch his breath, cheat heaving, cheeks slightly flushed.

“I.. I was wondering what you were up to tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a few drinks at the bar just off base?” He smiles slightly, running a hand across the back of his neck.

“Oh, yeah sure, I'd like that.”

Michaels face flushed more, “Great, Awesome, I'll meet you there at 21:00?”

You nod, a small smile on your face,”21:00 is perfect.”

You both stand there for a moment, neither one of you saying anything, an awkward silence settling over you. You clear your throat, and look over your shoulder towards the clinic.”Ah, well I should go and finish up inventory… I’ll see you later.” You shuffle backwards, and Michael nods. After another agonizingly awkward moment you turn fully, and start off towards the Clinic.

You shut the heavy metal door to the clinic, pressing your back to it, you take a deep breath. You had worked with Michael before, been friendly while in the Clinic together. He was the medic for another squad that would often be deployed with 141. You never would have guessed that he would ask you out for drinks. Most of the people around here didn't get involved with other personnel, everyone knew the risks, that not everyone would come home. That anytime you walked out that door could be your last.

Now that you were standing in the clinic, the momentary awkwardness of being put on the spot, you groaned. How could you possibly think it was a good idea to go out with him? Sure he was attractive in a generic sense. But there wasn't anything that made you want to crawl into bed with him. He was a nice guy, often taking time to help you clean up after patching up a particularly bad wound for someone. Or even helping you restock most of the supplies when you both happened to have a free moment.

Sighing you run a hand down your face, it was too late now. You stupidly said yes. No backing out of it.

Shaking off the feeling of regret, you busy yourself with the inventory. You head over to the small walk in closet that holds the oversupply. Flicking on the overhead bulb you scan the rows of brown and white boxes. Thick black sharpie labels are scrawled across most of the boxes, save for a few that were missed. Most likely having been thrown into the closet by someone who didn't work in the clinic. Occasionally whoever was free would take in the shipments instead of one of the medics, resulting in unmarked supplies.

It was one of the most infuriating things, in your field of work it was essential that any supplies be found as quickly as possible. Because those few minutes it can take to dig through an unmarked box for a supply that may not be in there can mean the difference between saving someone and losing them. You pull the unlabeled boxes down from the shelves and carry them over to the desk in the corner of the room. Cutting one open you make quick notes of what is inside, restock any missing supplies, and then label the box before sliding it back onto the shelf. The monotonous task takes you a few hours, the repetitive open, stock, label allowing time for your thoughts to drift.

The last mission you and Task Force 141 went on was brutal. Ghost had been shot in the side during the combat. He sustained a fair bit of internal damage from the bullet wound. As the others had spent hours holding back the enemies, you had been tasked with keeping the hulking 6 foot 4 man alive. His normal white skeleton gloves and balaclava splattered with blood, both his and the opponents. Your hands stained red from trying to stop the seemingly endless flow of blood that poured from him.

The 2 hours it took for them to be able to send medevac had been the longest of your life. You liked to think you could compartmentalize, keep work things work, home life home. But when one of your team mates, the people you trust your life with, are holding on by threads and one wrong move could mean going home with stitches versus a body bag.

It wasn't something you had been prepared for, not when it happened to someone as strong as Ghost. He had divulged some of his past to you while half delusional from blood loss that night. Whispering to you about the torture he went through, being buried alive, becoming Ghost.

You weren't sure if he had meant to tell you about it, but at that point as long as he was talking, it didn't matter what it was about. As long as Ghost was talking meant he wasn't dead, and he could still be okay after the whole thing was over.

Eventually, a medevac arrived, they airlifted Ghost to a military hospital where he got surgery to repair the internal damage. He spent 3 weeks in the hospital before he was released and cleared to begin doing light fieldwork. But he wasn't allowed to jump from planes and take down 5 people single handedly. Which thrust Simon right into your side of things, he was stuck back from the action helping you out in the field when needed. He was a decent medic when it came to it. He could stitch and wrap as well as any one with proper training and he was incredibly resourceful when it came to finding things to improvise with.

During your sharred time in the field, you were able to see a different side to Ghost. The side reserved for pretty much no one. He was kind, and surprisingly gentle underneath all of the muscle. He was fond of tea, no sugar or cream. He hated coffee, he frequently questioned how you would drink it. Let alone how you would drink it with as much sugar and cream as you do. He liked leather working when he was on break from 141, but he would never admit it to Soap and Gaz.

He got to know you too, you told him about growing up in small town America. Told him about how your parents didn't have fancy jobs, or flashy cars. You told him about the whole reason you wanted to join the military was to get out of the small town life. You didn't want a 9-5 job, you wanted something that always had you on your toes. Always looking for the next thing to jump into. You also told him about the last squad you had been stationed with.

You told him the tragedy that took place on your last mission with them. The entire unit except for you and one other soldier was KIA, a humvee ran over a landmine. You hadn’t been too badly injured, the humvee you were driving with the Lieutenant of your squad had been behind the one that got struck. Despite your best efforts you weren't able to save them, that day 4 people never got to go home. Two people went home, but they were never going to be the same.

When Captain Price had approached you and asked you if you wanted to be a part of Task Force 141 you were hesitant. It wasn’t until you met the rest of the team, that they cemented your place there. Soap had been the one to welcome you with open arms, literally. He gave you a bone crushing hug while mumbling something you wouldn't understand. It followed with Ghost telling Johnny that if he was going to talk then to at least do it in English. Gaz rolled his eyes as Soap and Ghost started bantering.

Since that day you had been part of the team, officially one of their teammates, and dare even say, one of their friends.

The clock on the wall chimes, pulling you from your thoughts. Glancing at the large clock you sigh, 20:00. One hour until you have to meet Michael at the bar. You put away the last box in the closet and turn off the lights to the clinic before making your way to your room.

One perk of being part of the SAS, was the private rooms, you had a small room on base that you kept some of your personal effects in when you didn't have time to go to your off base London flat. You quickly change out of your fatigues and into civilian clothes, pulling on a red low cut shirt, and a pair of black skinny jeans. You pull on a pair of black heeled boots and take one last look in the mirror.

Letting out a breath, you grab your bag and make your way to your car. Tapping the unlock button of your car, a noise catches your attention. Across the parking lot, Soap and Gaz are laughing, as they walk towards their own cars. You lift your hand in a small wave as they see you.

“Aye Lass! Hou ar ye?” Soap calls, as he walks towards you.

“I’m alright. Where are you two off to?” You raise your eyebrow at the pair.

“We’re going to hit a few pubs, what about you?” Gaz asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m actually meeting someone at a bar, pub, whatever you call it here.” You laugh, and a smile breaks out across Soap's face.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other at some point, Ghost said he might join us later. Said we need a babysitter,” Soap rolls his eyes.

“You two definitely need a babysitter if you’re going out together. We don’t need a repeat of last time, Price wasn’t too happy about having to come get you two out of the river.”

Gaz gives you a weary smile remembering the last time him and Soap went out drinking. They had been 3 sheets to the wind after the 3rd bar. Then one of them; they hadn't figured out which one suggested it first, decided it was a good idea to go swimming in the river. It took Price coming down and ordering them to get out for them to listen.

“Well, I’ll see you later?” You smile, and they turn, heading to their cars. Climbing into the car, you start towards the bar. Leaving the base in your rearview mirror, the rainy streets of London pass by. By the time you pull up to the pub, it’s 21:00, right on time. Taking one last look in the mirror you push open the car door. The pub was bustling with activity, patrons talking amongst themselves, beer mugs clinking on the countertops. A few rowdy men off in the corner being eyed by the bouncer.

Your eyes scan the crowded pub, looking for Michael. The low lighting and smoke wafting in from the patrons outside of the bar makes your quest harder. After a few moments you manage to find him, sitting alone in a booth towards the back. He’s wearing a nice button up shirt and a pair of black jeans. You squeeze through the crowd by the front door. You press forward, stopping at the bar to order yourself a beer. The bartender hands you your drink, taking a sip of the cool liquid you cross the rest of the bar to where Michael is sitting.

“Hey,” you smile, sliding into the other side of the booth.

Michael looks up at you, his beer hanging lazily from his fingertips, “Hey, you look great.”

A small smile forms on your lips, “thank you.”

Michael looks around the bar, his eyes flickering to the people behind you. “It’s nice to see you outside of the base.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the stuffy atmosphere of the bar surrounding you. “Yeah, I don't go out much…” you laugh slightly, picking up your beer and taking another sip. You stare down at the ring of condensation on the table, unsure what to say.

“Why is that by the way?” Michael asks, resting his elbow on the table.

You look up, “Oh, you know how it is, always busy. If we’re not actively on missions we’re training. Plus I don't really know many people outside of 141. I've only been on this side of the pond for a year, and most of that has been spent saving the world.”

Michael nods, “Ah, right, yes. What was your life like in America? Before you came over here?”

“It was alright, not super exciting. I joined the military at 18, right out of highschool. I went on two tours before…” You trail off, the memories of your squad dying in front of your eyes threatening to make you emotional. Taking a shaky breath you try to steady your voice.

“Did something happen on those tours?” Michael asks softly, his hand coming to rest over yours.

“My squad was taken out by a landmine, they died… right in front of my eyes.” You whisper, clearing your throat.

“I'm so sorry,” Michael says softly, giving your hand a squeeze. You force a small smile, and pull your hand out from under his.

“Thank you,” taking a sip of your drink as you glance around, a mohawk catching your attention. Soap, Gaz and Ghost are sitting at a booth on the other side of the bar. Soap has his arm around Gaz as they do shots of an amber colored liquid. Ghost sits in the booth, his skull balaclava on, resting his forearms on the table. His dark eyes scan the crowd as Soap and Gaz laugh. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes land on you. His chocolate colored eyes burning into you, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“So, what are your parents like?” Michaels voice draws you back to him. As you turn your attention back to him, you can feel Ghost’s eyes on you taking in your every move.

“They’re nice, typical hard working middle class people from small town america, not really much to talk about. I haven't seen them since I was with 141…”

“Oh, that must suck.. I couldn't imagine not being able to see my parents. I see them often actually.” Michael finishes his beer, setting the empty glass bottle down on the table. You let out an awkward chuckle, a loud roar of laughter comes from the other side of the bar.

Looking over you see Gaz and Soap have taken the stage for Karaoke, as the music starts to swell they start to belt out a horribly off tune version of ‘sweet caroline’. Letting out a groan you watch Gaz and Soap sway and laugh as they stumble over the words to the song. The entire crowd gets louder along with them. Ghost has changed his position, he is no longer sitting in the booth but standing by the side door. His eyes flickering between you and the two drunken task force members on stage.

“Hey, uh, Y/n, wanna get out of here?” Michael asks, standing from the booth, his hand outstretched for you to take. For a moment you hesitate, almost accepting his hand, but his face changes. The presence at your back can only belong to one person, and one person only.

“Ghost? Can I help you?” You glance over your shoulder to find the 6’4 masked man standing behind you.

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, his eyes unreadable as he stares at Michael. Anger prickles along your spine as you stand out of the booth and face him.

“Sure,” you glance back at Michael. “I’ll be right back”

Ghost grabs your forearm and drags you from the crowded bar, he pulls you into the alley between them. The alley is dimly lit as a light misting rain starts to fall. Ghost stands in front of you, “what do you think you’re doing?” He asks, voice low and gravelly.

“I was out getting drinks with someone? What does it look like I was doing?” You cross your arms across your chest. Your eyes locked on Simon’s with a glare. The wind picks up, blowing your hair across your face, you brush it back with a huff as Simon studies you.

“You shouldn’t go with him, he’s not good enough for you,” Simon grunts, eyes narrowing under his mask. You can hear the frown in his voice, even though his mouth is covered by his mask.

“Oh? And you know what's best for me?” You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. Who the hell did he think he was, telling you what was best for you.

“Yeah I do,” Simon takes a step forward, pushing you further into the alley.

“You barely know me, Ghost!” You seethe, taking a step forward, almost toe to toe with the man. You were so close you could smell his cologne, the warm spicy scent is something you would recognize anywhere. After spending days pressed up together in tight spaces while taking cover from enemy fire.

“I know you better than you think, and you don't belong with some arsehole. Some guy who tries to hook up with every new medic that comes through the base. So yes, I do know what's best for you.” Ghost’s voice is calm, as he looks down at you, his hand reaching out and he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. You pull back, taking a step backwards from him.

“Just because you fucked me once, doesnt mean I’m yours!” You turn and walk a few paces down the alley, away from him. Trying to put some distance between you two, so you could think clearly. Whenever he was around he consumed your thoughts, made all logic go right out the window. A hand wraps around your upper arm and spins you around.

Ghost towers over you, his large body pressing you back into the cool wall of the pub. He trails his fingers across your jaw and down the side of your neck, leaning in so his mouth is by your ear. The fabric of his mask brushing against your hair. “And if i fuck you again do i get to?” He whispers, sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine.

“Get to what?” You whisper, knowing full well what he meant, but you wanted to hear it from him. You wanted to hear him call you his.

“Call you mine? Don't play dumb, Love. I know you find Michael boring, and I saw the way your eyes tracked me.” His breath tickles your ear, and you close your eyes. A shiver running through you.

“We should've never done it the first time. You know this Simon, you’re my superior,” you breathe, as he presses closer. Trapping you against the wall with his arms on either side of you, caging you in.

“And as your superior I'm telling you that it's okay to break the rules every once in a while.” Simon whispers, running his hands down your body to rest on your waist.

“Don't you have two other members of 141 to bother? Like the two drunken idiots on stage in that bar?” You whisper.

“I already called Price, he's probably already in there watching them.”

“Simon…” you trail off as you slowly lift the front of his balaclava to reveal his jaw, pushing it up just under his nose. He leans in closer, his mouth inches from yours.

“Stop thinking sergeant,” he whispers his lips brushing yours with each word.

Your eyes fall shut as he slants his mouth over yours, his hands digging into your waist as he hauls you against him. Your body is molding to him like a missing puzzle piece, Simon grunts as you wrap our arms around his neck.

“Let's go,” Simon whispers, as he pulls away slightly. He leans down slightly, and hooks his arm under your knees and throws you over his shoulder. The world is suddenly upside down as he starts walking, you slung over his shoulder like a bag.

“Ghost!” you screech, laughing slightly as his hand comes up to smack you on the ass. You let out a startled yelp as he walks towards his car.

“Quiet, Love. Don't want the others to hear you,” Simon chuckles.

#Simon riley #Simon Riley X reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost #Ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #Simon x reader #fluff #Soap #Gaz #Price #x reader #x you

361 notes · View notes

penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

Text

This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit.

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical.

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying.

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point.

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad. Such a lone wolf am I. Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me. Kneel before me. I am your master. This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was “What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

508 notes · View notes

cherry-velvet-skies · 11 months ago

Text

Within You, Without You (18+)

George Harrison × GN!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, all the things

Warnings: A very short sex scene, power play if you squint, slight nipple play, convos about insecurities and low self confidence and stuff like that

Words: 3.2k

Summary: 1967 era; You need to find a way to relax, and George offers to be your guide through tantral meditation

T/N: Domine- Latin for master; used from a place of utmost respect

===================================

==============================

You had tried everything. Anything that would help to decrease your stress levels. These past few weeks had been tough on you, and all you wanted was for your brain to quiet down for a bit. But nothing seemed to work, no matter how hard you tried. So, you thought of the only thing that even had a shot at clearing your head: meditation. And lucky for you, you had just the person to teach you.

For someone with his level of experience, George was very well versed in the art of meditation. He had been given the tools to get to a place where he was comfortable practicing on his own, and that was really all there was to it. And he was more than happy to pass on any amount of his knowledge to you.

"Most people start out in the position you see most often, which is sitting on the floor with your legs crossed." George instructed as he sat down next to you, demonstrating the position. You couldn't help but stare at the wide variety of decor placed throughout the room. George had a specific room that he would go only to meditate. Apparently, having a designated space is supposed to enhance your chances of successful meditation.

You had half expected the room to be devoid of color, but it was quite the opposite. It looked as though all the wonderful colors of the rainbow had performed an interpretive dance across the walls, twirling and swinging about in perfect harmony. This was not the environment you had in mind.

"I always thought meditation was supposed to be about clearing your mind." You stated. "That's why most yoga studios are painted white." George gave you a confused stare.

"Meditation is about clearing your mind of negative energy. Not blanking it out completely." He replied, smoothing out the carpet fibers beneath his feet. "Meditating in a completely white room is not going to help you at all. You should be surrounded by things that are going to positively stimulate your brain." He looked around for a moment, admiring his own decor before turning back to you. "Although positive stimulation looks different for everyone, an assortment of colors is the most natural form of it."

“So is meditation always done this way?” You questioned, honestly having no clue where to start. George always had so much knowledge to share, and it wasn’t that you had no interest in meditation. You often felt that it wouldn’t work for you, but realized that you would never know if you never tried.

“This practice is the best entry to meditation. But once it comes more naturally to you, you can do it from anywhere at any time,” George explained, “To reach an optimal mental state for meditation, it does take much more than to sit cross-legged and close your eyes. It’s about reaching an internal piece, which would then translate to the physical body. However, the key is to start small.” He motioned towards several fluffy pillows on the floor beside him. “If the floor is too hard, you can use one of these.”

“And by doing this, I'll just…feel better?” You asked, getting comfy on one of the pillows. There were several colors, the one you chose being a soft orange.

“Well, not exactly.” George chuckled, He was always so patient. “You have to incorporate your mind as well. Like I said, clearing your mind means clearing negative energy. The best way to do that is to think of a place that brings you comfort and imagine that you’re there. To get in touch with both your mind and your body.”

You sighed. That was always your problem. You felt like you were too much in your own head and needed an escape. How were you supposed to be one with your mind if you didn’t even want to be in there in the first place?

“I just know what’s going to happen,” You whined, “I’m gonna get frustrated and it’ll have the opposite effect on me.”

George blinked at you, pursing his lips. “Can you at least try, love?” He offered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s genuine desire to help you truly did make things easier, but it was your stubborn brain that wouldn’t put in the effort. It technically wasn’t entirely your fault, but it was hell to live with. But George was right. Not trying meant shutting out the possibility of finding a solution. He didn’t want you to do it just to please him. He wanted you to want to do it. To do it for yourself.

“Alright.’ You said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll try.”

George smiled warmly, adorable fangs on full display. He didn’t have to do much to help you get ready as you were already in position. He stood off to the side, waiting to begin his part of the process as you settled into a comfortable zone. You did everything he said. Crossing your legs, closing your eyes, and relaxing into a decompressing posture. You drew in a deep breath, exhaling and trying your hardest to release any tension along with it.

After you closed your eyes, you felt George continue to stand around you, assessing your method of choice. You decided to go with the traditional method, despite your earlier qualms about its lack of stimulation. You figured that maybe less was more, and that by trying to calm your body down to an optimal level, you would achieve your desired outcome. But of course, without fail, once you tried to focus on finding a sense of tranquility, your thoughts took over and you were back where you started.

“I can’t…” You said shakily. “I can’t do it.’ You still hadn’t opened your eyes, because you knew if you did, there would be no stopping the flow of tears.

“Perhaps you need something else to focus on.” George replied, standing behind you now. He placed his hands on your shoulders and waited there for a moment. You didn’t tense up or try to move away, so he proceeded. He slid his fingers up and down your neck, gently squeezing your muscles as he went. You still kept your eyes closed, but furrowed your brows in confusion. To you, this seemed like the most inopportune time for a shoulder massage, but refused to object. You trusted that George knew what he was doing to some degree.

“Think of yourself as if you were facing them directly.” He announced, implementing a new kind of tactic, “Give them advice on how to achieve your goal right now.”

“George, what are you doing?” You interrupted, “How is this supposed to make me relax for meditation? The last thing I want to be thinking about is how I view myself.” George removed his right hand from your shoulder and placed his index finger at the base of your head, slowly tracing down your spine. You shivered, feeling like electricity was flowing through your body. “How did you do that?” You whispered, a slightly shudder moving through your voice as you spoke. “Why did I feel that?”

“We often find it hard to look within ourselves for answers, especially if we feel we aren’t qualified to give them. The vision of speaking to someone else helps to translate that motivation into an exterior perspective.” Classic George. You ask him a simple question and he gives you the secrets of life.

“Okay…” You breathed, “But when I look at myself, all I do is criticize them, whether it’s a mirror or a clone.” You were close to giving up, and it was clear George was running out of options. He remained stationary, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He sighed, thinking for a moment before making any sudden movements.

Mere seconds later, George resumed his shoulder massage, but instead of maintaining his posture, he bent down, mouth level with your ear. His voice was not above a whisper, his tone dripping with a new and improved delightful idea.

“Tell me how to help you, my Domine…”

You froze. This was the only thing that actually got you to sit up straight. You opened your eyes and turned to look at George only for him to shush you and turn your head back to stare at the wall in front of you. He kept his left hand cupped around your jaw, making sure you didn’t move it again, but there was no discipline. His grip was quite loose. You ideally could’ve gotten up and walked out if you truly wanted to. He wasn’t keeping you there.

“You know latin?” You mumbled, still perplexed at his new name for you.

George chuckled. “I know many things. All are useful at some time or another.” He pressed into your shoulders, his smile growing as you released some tension in the form of a strained whimper. He leaned to your ear again.

“If you can’t tell yourself what to do…tell me instead.”

You froze, but your following response was done with no hesitation. It was methodic. Robotic, almost. You adjusted your posture, locking into your newfound confidence.

“Make me feel good.” You whispered, knowing no additional details were needed. George went straight to work, placing his fingers at the back of your neck, towards the base of your skull. “Make me feel that sensation again.” You added, not knowing how to describe it but already feeling addicted. You wished it could flow through your body on command, giving you a boost at any time of day. You pretended as if you were alone, eyes closed and rhythmic breathing as his hands explored your body. A small sigh left George’s lips, exhaling a small puff of air onto your lower back while his fingers wisped across your spine. Every touch felt like a feather, as if he was there but he wasn’t. He truly gave you the illusion of peaceful solitude, merely being an assisting spirit to guide you in your journey of inward and outward reflection.

“Move to the front.” You announced, and George stopped in his tracks. Your initial reaction was to withdraw, fearing you sounded too demanding. Too commanding. Too strong. But you remained stationary, awaiting your lover’s next move. You heard him shuffle, and the new shadow in front of you, changing the amount of natural light billowing onto your body gave you the confirmation that your orders had been followed. George inhaled another long breath, ostensibly entering his own corresponding headspace.

“All I wish is to please you, my dear.”

Your body gave into the scene, falling back onto your palms while still keeping your legs crossed. You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him, giving him a compensatory level of control in this otherwise hierarchical situation. After a while, George began to drift off as well, taking in the sensation across your torso as he massaged your chest and pressed small kisses across your shoulders. You didn’t expect him to take to this so easily, but it seemed like second nature to the two of you. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way.

What mostly came to your surprise was when George’s fingers brushed over your nipples through your shirt, causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You still weren’t sure if that was intentional or not, but there was certainly an additional advantage. He was testing you, waiting to see if it was what you wanted. Technically, you had complete control over what he would do next, yet he knew that if he took matters into his own hands, you wouldn’t stop him. You wanted it more than ever. You wanted to tell him to just have his way with you. And you knew you absolutely could. He knew you could. He would do whatever you wanted him to. But it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was all about how long you could fight the urge to tip the balance. To realize that the one who submits all power is truly the one in control. He was giving you the chance to be demanding. To be commanding. To be strong. The power play was absolutely diabolical.

“Do that again.” You choked out, trying your best not to sound desperate. George knew exactly what you wanted. So he did it again, but softer. More enjoyable. More deliberate. And by telling him what you wanted, he knew you had acquired a new goal. And you wanted to see how far he would go to please you.

“Make me feel confident.” You sighed. “Make me feel powerful.”

“I can’t do that, dear.” George replied without missing a beat, thumbs still slowly dragging back and forth across your nipples. “That has to come from within.”

You whined. The closer you got to what you wanted, the harder it was to keep up the confidence. You thought choosing the route of pleasure would be easier for you, but it was the same old story. Entering with a confident facade was simple. But the deeper you went, the more you wanted to back out.

“It doesn’t feel like me.” You breathed. George moved his hands to your waist, opting for a soft massage to ease the level of stimulation.

“Don’t lose it,” He whispered, “You were doing great.” You didn’t respond, slowly being dragged back inside your own head. If this had any shot of working, George knew he had to keep you grounded. “We both know this is something the real you wants.”

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts into a neatly folded pile. Based on your personal skills, it looked more like a lumpy pile of laundry, but at least it was all together. You tried to imagine that you were alone again. That your only company was yourself. And for the first time, the person staring back at you was a true reflection. Still in your own world, you whispered so that only you could hear.

“Give me what I need. Give me what I want.” But George heard you loud and clear, assuming his role and getting you to the end. He resumed his deliberate touching across your chest, and you immersed yourself in it as if it were your own. You don’t know how long it went on for, but all you knew was that you never wanted it to end. George moved as if he was giving a deep tissue massage to your soul. Everything you said, he did. Everywhere you wanted to be touched, he did. He didn’t need to understand your rhyme or reason. Whatever your body was calling out for needed to be answered. The real you needed to be heard.

Eventually you felt a bout of pressure begin to build inside you. The longer it went on, the stronger it felt. Lately, the concept of pleasure had been one form of stress relief you couldn’t rely on. Try as you must, you couldn’t bring yourself to the edge. But this time was different. In his newfound role, George had bestowed upon you the virtual reality of physical pleasure. It wasn’t sex. You didn’t want sex. Throughout this entire session, you had never once asked him to touch you in your most intimate place. This was about stimulation. But if it ended in an orgasm, you were more than satisfied with that.

And you felt it. It slowly rose, like a high tide during a full moon. The soft light bouncing off the rippling water like your body started to shake, the glorious light of your soul trying to break out of your skin. Though he sensed you nearing the edge, George didn’t speed up. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t change anything. He stared at you as your head tipped back, small moans leaving your lips. You couldn’t say anything else to direct him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. The pleasure had peaked, the wave reaching a new height. It came crashing down onto the shore, your orgasm flowing through you. You released with a gasping shout, your exclamation nothing short of the highest praise for George and his intricate touches. Your arms could no longer hold you up, and your elbows buckled, sending you falling backwards onto the floor. George caught your head before you made contact, lowering you down the rest of the way. He rubbed small circles on the soft skin of your stomach just above your waistband. You sighed, your breathing slowly returning to normal as your lover began to leave small kisses on your right shoulder. You giggled, celebrating the fact that your new goal had been accomplished: it was the first time you had ever come untouched.

George laid on the floor next to you, head tucked in your neck and one hand flat over your stomach, patting it in a slow, rhythmic fashion. “You need anything?” He whispered, poking your ear with his nose. You shook your head no, not wanting to move from this position, which included having him next to you. You rolled on your side to face him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “I do have one question, though,” you mumbled, still in your post-coital haze, “does meditation usually lead to sex?”

George chuckled, slinging his arm over your hip to brush his hand over your back. “That is called tantra, love. It uses multiple forms of stimulation simultaneously, and yes, sometimes it does result in pleasurable situations like these.”

You smiled, pondering the topic. “So it’s meditation in the form of pleasure? But how does that relate to me feeling more confident?”

“It’s all about unlocking your true potential.” George replied, pausing briefly to perfect his explanation. “You felt confident. That’s mental stimulation. And paired with the physical stimulation, it provided enough emotional stimulation for you to have a powerful release.” He stared into your eyes with a mixture of love and gratitude. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to own up to it yet, but having you tell him what to do was also an example of mental and emotional stimulation. One that he had not been able to find on his own. The concept of joint meditation was something mutually beneficial.

“So when can we do it again?” You mused, earning a light chuckle from the man beside you.

“Whenever you want, my Domine.” George teased, seeing how you shivered at the recurring mention of your new title. He took the pillow that you had been using as a cushion and urged you to lift your head, placing it on the floor underneath you, watching as you sunk into the plush fabric. You smiled warmly, watching him take another pillow from the pile beside you, both of you get comfortable on the floor. The carpet was soft enough, but the addition of the pillows made for a fine place to have a nap. Eyes softly closing as the warm sun cascaded through the window and blanketed your nearly sleeping forms, your voice came as a barely audible whisper.

“Did you enjoy having me be in charge for once?” George smiled, not bothering to open his eyes to respond, but hearing your statement loud and clear. He thought for a moment before answering, but there was technically no need. He was no stranger to an apparently not so new experience.

“You’ve always been in charge to me, my dear.”

==============================

Happy new year y'all! 🥰🥰🥰 To kick off 2024, I figured I would finally finish up the last fic that was featured in that poll I made however many months ago that was lol also I will say that this is my first smut fic so pls go easy on me 😅 I'm sure I'll get there eventually BUT other than that I hope you enjoy! 😁

#the beatles #beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fanfiction #george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison fanfiction #george harrison imagine #beatles x reader #beatles fanfiction #george harrison x you #george harrison x y/n #george harrison smut

171 notes · View notes

max1461 · 1 year ago

Text

Honestly as much as I'm like "I appreciate media that is unabashedly horny", which is true, anime fan service is often a bit too much for me just on the level of like, my own taste. Uh it just comes across as crass and tacky a lot, it makes the work more difficult for me to enjoy.

I also think the argument that it's like, often problematic objectification is not wrong. Maybe that's obvious. But like, well, there's something subtle (or sometimes, not so subtle) which makes the difference for me between "media that feels horny in a 'fair' way" and "media which feels horny in 'gross' or 'gawking' way". Those are both poor terms but like, sexualized in a way that feels...

Well there's no easy line for me to draw here. There's nothing specifically that you can't do in work, IMO, there's basically no line that I'm like "categorically you can't cross that". But I do think you should be at least somewhat aware of the ideas your work is conveying about sexuality and society and so on.

Uh maybe what I mean is just "have tact". Like I don't mean "never try to titillate the audience", and I don't mean "all your titillation must sufficiently be subversive of social norms to be allowed", or whatever. Lots of people who say the thing I said in the last paragraph mean one of those things. But I don't. I just mean don't be a dumbass, maybe? I mean something. I mean be aware that like, while I don't a priori object to a work in which every female character's boobs flap around simply because the creator finds it hot, there are certain works where you really should not do that. You see? Things have to be... contextually appropriate, and I mean both the work's internal context but also its context in society as a whole. Right, because of social conditions, and you know, the way that women are treated, and shit, well you're all smart you all know, there's certain contexts in which it is not appropriate to have all the female characters have their boobs flop around. And many more contexts where it's sort of fine it just makes the work a bit worse.

Idk.

Cause like. There's some anime, actually a lot of it, that's just ridiculously straight-guy-horny and I'm just like "you know what, this is fine actually, this is great. I have zero problem with this." And then there's a lot that has all the same shit in it and I'm like "oof, that feels really inappropriate. That feels like a shitty portrayal, an insensitive thing to include, that's bad."

And the different is not the nature of the panty shots themselves it's everything around the panty shots, right. Does that make sense?

I feel like the is kind of the sensible synthesis of recent (and IMO correct) trends around like, idk, pro-horniness? Like sex positivity already means a specific thing but like, pro-horniness, you know, pro-desire (many people on this website are talking about such thing, and again I think correctly), with the IMO also true and important fact that like, objectification of women and so on is a real thing in media and it is actually problematic (I mean "problematic" in the naive sense, not as SJ jargon). Like maybe it's not problematic in the exact set of ways 2014 pop-feminism or anti-porn radfems or whatever say it is, but it's like. There are contexts in which I think you really probably should not be zooming in on the boobs and so on. Like, you feel me?

#navel gazing

335 notes · View notes

cryptidcircuswrites · 8 months ago

Text

FUCKED IN THE HEAD

Dead dove- do not eat || MINORS DNI

!! mentions of guns and gunshots, detailed descriptions of violence and gore, fake out character death, wound fucking, brain fucking, penis in brain sex, brain creampie, head bashing, homophobic language, homophobia slur use, internalized homophobia, mentions of abuse, specifically masky bullies toby about his past with his physically abusive father, age gap but everyone is a consenting adult, degradation and generally mean spirited dirty talk

Like this version? @sister-lucifer wrote one too!

A horrible wet chop rang out, followed by a whoop from Toby. “I g-got the la-las-st one, Mas-sky!”

Masky turned back, mouth open, a “shut up, Rogers” ready to roll out of his throat when he saw it.

“Toby, watch out!” BANG!

The boy fell to the dirt, dark red glistening in the moonlight.

A feral scream ripped through Masky’s throat as he tore the head clean off of the woman who just shot Ticci Toby Rogers. Masky would never admit it out loud, but he was afraid in this moment. Slenderman could keep them from dying; Hoodie had tried a few times, and Rogers had had his fair share of accidents, but a gunshot wound to the head?

There’s just no way.

Masky dropped to his knees beside the corpse of his partner, hands shaking as he hesitated about what to do. What can you do in these situations?

“Rogers!” he hisses, shaking the smaller man. “Tobias, please!”

And then life, beautiful sound! Toby giggles, arms pushing into the dirt beneath him.

“I g-got you ther-there, didn’t I?”

"God damn you, boy!" Masky hissed, more venom than a viper spewing from his lips. He kicked the boy, to little satisfaction. Toby only laughed.

He couldn't feel it anyway.

"You were s-soooo upse-t, huh Tim? Thought I w-was dead, huh Tim?"

The masked proxy growls, a grin creept across Toby’s marred face as he pushed himself up from the ground.

“You know, T-Tim, now I h-ave th-three holes just like a r-real girl!” he taunts. “Bet you w-wanna fuck me n-now, huh?”

Toby continued his taunts and jeers. “You’ll f-feel less bad now-now, huh? Cuz I’m l-like a r-eal girl, and y-you’re not such a f-faggot when you fuck my ass-ss. I b-et my head feel-feels great. You should try-try it.”

The older man stops dead in his tracks. It was an interesting idea, sure-- but there was no telling how much damage it would do. A single gunshot to the head was apparently survivable, but could Toby's already muddled brain take his cock?

Masky jumps ever so slightly as the boy slides up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. "Come on, Tim. Think about how go-good it would be," he purrs.

He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t think about it, about thrusting in and out of his partner, fucking him hard, blood lubricating his hard cock and adding to the sensation— but god damnit if Timothy “Masky” Wright wasn’t a faggot freak who loved fucking the boy almost as much as he loved ruining his thin unfeeling figure. Being immortal and having CIPA meant the boy could take a beating. He often did. Masky abused that, so why would this be any different?

It was just another hole.

He turns, pushing Toby to his knees.

Just another hole.

Toby giggles in anticipation.

Just a quick fuck. Doesn't mean anything.

Masky fumbles with his belt buckle.

Never does. He likes girls.

He reaches into his pants, rubbing himself a few times to wake his dick up.

He likes girls. Not whatever sick shit this is.

“Fuck,” Masky groaned as he pulled Toby’s head back onto his dick. Toby squirmed and whimpered below, nerves firing all over his body.

Masky’s hands grip Toby’s face, fucking into his skull slowly, dragging out the sensation. “Shit, kid, this is even better than your ass,” Masky chokes out in a rare moment of praise.

Toby moaned in response, a sound so sweet and raw Masky could swear he’d died and went to heaven.

What the hell is he thinking? This isn't good. This is just stress relief. Shut your mouth, Tim.

Every nerve in Toby’s body is lighting up in ecstasy as Masky pounds into his brain. Every cry bursts from deep within his chest, pure pleasure ebbing through the parts of his brain still intact. Masky is not gentle despite the area being so delicate. He thrusts hard into the tissue, reaching the deepest parts of Toby’s skull.

He hates Toby. He hates his stupid voice, the way he never takes anything seriously. He hates his twitching, his stutters, how he moans and whimpers under him every time this happened, and most of all, Masky hates how he loves it.

So of course, he fucks harder. He hates that Toby can't feel pain-- he digs his nails into the soft flesh of Toby's face, jaw, cheeks, scalp, throat. No pain. Only ecstasy.

Toby's voice has always been high-pitched and raspy. Whiny, like some shitty greasy Midwest emo singer. It always got higher when Masky fucked him, and if you closed your eyes, you could trick yourself into thinking you were fucking a real, warm-blooded woman.

Masky didn’t close his eyes. Usually, he would. Usually, he’d try and pretend.

This time, he watched as Toby jerked and stuttered and twitched.

And this time, as he watches, as he recognizes the man below him, bleeding, pawing desperately at his crotch, he feels something snap.

Toby whimpers as something is hit. Bone hits bone as his skull knocks against Masky’s hips. Everything is on fire. His eyes aren’t capable of focus, his thoughts are scattered, his tongue won’t form words. All he can think is that he needs to touch himself right this very second.

He paws at his crotch as Masky fucks into him like an animal. He fumbles with his belt, with the buttons, desperate for release.

He doesn’t manage it. All of that requires motor skills that Masky is quite literally fucking out of him right now. He settles for grabbing at himself through his jeans.

“God, Rogers. You’re a fucking sissy-boy, huh? You moan like one,” Masky grunts.

Toby presses harder against his hand.

“You’re a fucking fag, getting fucked like this. Slut.” Toby cums in his pants as Masky tugs sharply on his scalp.

“Nasty little fucker,” Masky growls. Toby twitches harder, moaning as viscera is pushed out around Masky’s dick. "You better be grateful for how I fuck you like this, nobody else would want a nasty little fag-freak like you."

Masky pulled Toby off his dick, slamming his head into the nearest tree.

There’s a crunch as Toby’s nose breaks. Blood and goo spurts out of the hole in his head with the impact. He moans sickeningly.

“You just love being beat on like this, huh?”

What little is left of Toby’s vision is filled with stars. His ears are ringing, his stomach twists and clenches.

He can’t feel pain, so the damage only translates to ecstasy through his dick-scrambled brain. He moans, drooling, tongue limp and jaw slack. The bark of the tree leaves marks in his skin as Masky positions himself behind him.

“Bet you picked up some real weird kinks from your daddy huh? Some wires crossed somewhere, same way they fucked you in the head?” Masky held himself in one hand and pinned Toby to the tree with the other.

“How ‘bout after this is over you tell me who fucked you up better?”

Before Toby can process what’s being said, Masky pushes all the way in. He groans as he fucks into Toby’s skull like an unneutered dog, growling and panting and groaning. Thank god there’s no one around to see this save the dead eyes of the already dead victims, or else there would be no way for Masky to deny that he definitely is into men.

As Masky grows closer, Toby’s muffled whimpers are drowned out by him losing all sense of composure and chasing the pleasure like some goddamn hedonist.

Masky lets out a sharp cry as he finally hits his limit, cum mixing with blood and brain matter and spinal fluid into a gooey mess of a mixture. He thrusts a few more times then pulls Toby off with a sick pop. A squelch as a chunk of brain falls onto the ground, but then no other sound except their breathing.

Toby gurgles slightly, falling to the side. Tim’s juices leak out the back of his head and his eyes, mixing with the tears of sheer pleasure.

“…I should probably get you to Jack.”

#mh masky #masky #marble hornets #creepypasta #ticci toby #cw: gore #smut #fanfic #ticcimask #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

143 notes · View notes

maneskinwh0re · 8 months ago

Text

“you want me to break you.” ~ fem loki laufeyson x fem reader

one shot, smut, 18+

this is porn with a plot. freak level 100. 3.4k words. yes, i’m ovulating. cw: 18+ dom!loki, fem!loki, loki x reader, begging, edging, teasing, embarrassment k!nk, knife play, cuffs, blood, praise, degradation, punishment kink, semi-public sex

read at your own risk babes. first time writing smut and my hormones did not hold back !! idk if i like this or not lol but i have more in the works xo

“tear you apart” by ‘she wants revenge’ while you read >:)

cred to loki concept artists - got these pics from insta and pinterest like a year ago

----------------------------------------

location: asgard

you pace the golden palace halls as you wait for thor and the warrior’s three to return. it’s been a few hours now, and your mission is only a simple weapons transfer across realms. once everything is in order, you plan to return to midgard, aka earth, and assist the avengers in whatever is next on the heroes’ roster. the sun has set and multiple asgardian moons are shining bright lights across the galaxy’s sky.

the sound of light steps echo the hallway as you walk, until you decide to lean against one of the wide, golden pillars that reach up to the high ceiling. with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes for a moment, wondering how much longer thor is going to take in the council meeting. when you open your eyes, thor’s sibling is staring at you only a few yards away, leaning on an opposing pillar. your startled gasp made her smirk, her emerald green eyes never leaving yours.

loki has heard stories of the midgardian avenger, often by eavesdropping on thor’s babbles of his “heroic adventures.” and you’ve heard stories of her, but often spoke with negative qualities through tony stark’s gritted teeth. you have never seen the goddess in person. her dark hair falls on her shoulders and a dark green corset hugs her hourglass figure. she wears black pants and tall black boots that reach her thighs. a fluffy, light-gray coat drapes over her while the tall horns on her golden helmet curve upward. she definitely looks like a goddess, but you internally curse yourself for the thoughts you have of the villain.

she slowly toys with a dagger in one of her slender hands until she finally speaks.“hello, mortal,” her voice is smooth, fit for a princess.

“loki,” you nod, crossing your arms over your chest. you know you shouldn’t be conversing with her. hopefully she’ll leave you alone if you ignore her gaze long enough.

loki sees your ignorance to be a challenge, of course, so she walks closer. “may i ask what you’re doing in asgard?” her tone is sweet as she raises an eyebrow curiously.

you inhale slowly as you think of a response. how much does she know?how much should she know? you assume not much and that you should keep it that way.

keeping it vague, you reply, “um, well…i’m here for a mission, under the avengers initiative.”

loki smiles sweetly as she stops in front of you. “mission? avengers initiative? oh my, how cute.”

you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach over loki’s closeness. “it’s classified.”

“classified?” loki hums, looking down at you. “do you wish to tell me more? i’m very curious, y/n. just between the both of us, of course…” she leans closer, putting the dagger she was playing with in her thigh holster in order to give you her undivided attention.

“i’m terribly sorry, your majesty,” you reply in a sarcastic tone, smoothing out the fabric of your black training suit. “but i’m afraid i cannot disclose any more information.” you straighten your posture against the pillar and find some enjoyment as you tease loki. “not unless i could get…something in return.”

she thinks to herself with a smirk, then raises an eyebrow. “ah, something in return? what is this something that you expect me to give you, mortal?”

“again,” you whisper, looking her up and down. “classified.”

“you know, mortal, it’s really unfair if you don’t tell me anything whilst i’m standing here with such curiosity. i want to know,” she leans in closer, her lips brushing your ear. “what is this classified information you are hiding from me, darling?”

you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of loki’s cold breath on your ear and neck, her scent of rain and oak filling your nose. she pulls back as her hand moves to your chin and turns your face to look up at her. your eyes flick open as she forces you to look up into her dominant gaze.

“it’s not worth your valued time, your majesty,” you breathe, speaking honestly. “only a weaponry transfer across realms. nothing more.”

loki’s fingers slowly move down to the zipper on the front of your skin-tight black suit. “nothing more? what if we make this mission a little more personal?” she asks flirtatiously as her hand begins to pull at the end of the zipper.

a moment of clarity hits as you realize you are both still in the open hallway. your lips part as you breathe heavily, grabbing loki’s hand to pause her movement. you look left and right, searching for any working guards or wandering civilians.

“what if someone-” you begin to ask worriedly until loki backs you behind another nearby pillar.

“that is why you’re going to be quiet for me,” loki whispers against your neck, her free hand beginning to roam. “no one will see you but me.”

she continues to try to unzip your suit, ignoring your hand lingering on the back of hers as her fingertips brush against your skin. “you need to be a good girl for me and let me unzip it…”

you start to focus on your breathing once again. you keep your hand on loki’s wrist but your resistance lightens, allowing her to move your suit’s zipper lower until the fabric falls slightly off your shoulder. loki’s fingers and thumb brush against your bare skin under the suit, teasing you until her lips coat light kisses across your collarbone.

“good girl…let me undress you, darling. you’re mine after all.”

a soft whimper escapes your lips as you allow her to remove your black suit. she helps guide your arms out of the sleeves and lets the top half of the suit roll down to your hips. a shiver runs up your spine as the cold night air hits your skin. loki’s gaze darkens as her hungry eyes lower to your breasts.

“gods, you’re so beautiful…,” she praises as her hands caress your thighs and slowly work their way up your torso. “yet so fragile. i could break you in half.”

“then do so,” your voice shakes as your hands tangle in loki’s dark hair, tugging on it slightly. “break me, princess.”

something inside loki snaps instantly as soon as those three needy words leave your mouth. she pushes herself against you as her lips latch to yours in a passionate kiss, gentle and warm at first, until her tongue enters your mouth as her hands travel up and down your thighs, squeezing them tightly. after a few moments, she starts biting and pulling at your bottom lip with her teeth.

the way loki kisses you brings up a moan from the back of your throat, a sound that only drives her crazier. her lips leave yours and you immediately try to catch your breath. she then bites down on your neck, leaving marks and hickeys that will only darken in time. you feel a drowsy heaviness pull your head back, resting against the pillar as loki pants into the nape of your neck.

your hand trails up loki’s arm and shoulder until you reach one of the horns on her golden helmet. you tug on one of the horns, subconsciously trying to pull her head downward for a moment before you realize what you’re doing.

��y/n,” loki warns, biting harder as one hand grips your waist and the other pulls your right thigh up to her side. she presses her hips against yours, grinding hard as she resumes suffocating you with open-mouthed kisses. your body tenses at the pressure, moving your hips in hopes to find more friction.

“loki…please,” you groan as soon as her tongue temporarily leaves your mouth. your fingers tug at her green and gold armor, craving her body even if that means you’d have to pry every layer of her clothing off yourself.

loki lets you move and squirm, all while still holding your right thigh against her left hip. she slips her free hand under your suit to start rubbing slow circles on your clit through the silky fabric of your underwear, bringing another whimper from your mouth.

“you want me to break you?” loki whispers into your ear, continuing the many pecks and bites to your neck. she sucks slightly on your collarbone until your nails are practically digging into her corseted waist. “such a naughty girl. let me punish you…”

you can feel yourself grow wetter with every filthy word that leaves her lips. you look up into her eyes and nod as a consensual gesture for her to be rougher with you, not being able to wait any longer.

“punish me, loki…please.”

“that’s it, darling,” she lowers your thigh as she kisses down your body until she is kneeling in front of you, her hands caressing every one of your curves as she moves. she then roughly pulls the rest of your suit down your legs until it pools at your ankles. her thumb resumes the achingly slow movements to your clit through your underwear as her fingers press against the dampening fabric covering your vagina.

“f-fuck,” you curse as both your hands grip the horns on loki’s helmet, using it to stable your legs’ weakening balance.

“easy, dear,” she says. “watch that pretty mouth of yours, or i’ll put it to good use.”

“i…” you breathe, trying to form an argument back, but loki’s thumb starts to move faster before you can think to stop yourself from cursing again. “oh- fuck!”

“ah, you little brat.”

she then quickly rips off your panties and stands up abruptly. she grabs your jaw and forces two fingers into your mouth. you don’t hesitate to shamelessly suck on her fingers. they’re in for only a moment before she pulls them out and wets her thumb with her own tongue. she then lowers her hand and you feel those same two fingers being pushed inside your wet cunt.

a pained yell escapes your mouth until it’s muffled by her free hand. her thumb resumes rubbing circles on your clit at a quicker pace than before, helping the ache turn to painful pleasure.

“shh, remember what i told you, hm? i said you need to be quiet for me,” loki shushes you. your legs are already struggling to support your body while the knot in your stomach grows.

your whimpers and moans are muffled by loki’s slender hand, forcing you to control your breathing through your nose. her thick gold rings are cold against your cheeks. both your hands grip her wrist, inhaling and exhaling unsteadily as your eyes catch the dagger sheathed in her thigh holster. when loki realizes what you’re looking at, she pauses her movements with a smirk and pins both of your wrists to the pillar above your head, not even bothering to wipe or suck your juices off her fingers. you let out a frustrated groan over your delayed release and squeeze your thighs together, feeling embarrassed on how loki caught onto what you were eyeing.

“how cute,” she whispers against your lips, her taunting tone and cold breath flowing into your open mouth. “is that how you want to get punished, my adorable slut?”

you press your lips together to stop yourself from whimpering again, only having the ability to nod in response. loki moves her fingers down to the holster and removes the knife. she then brings it up to your throat and presses the side of the blade against it. the threat is somehow arousing in a way you have never felt before. you wonder how far you’re willing to go. then wonder how far the villain is willing to go…

“do it, then,” you say with a challenging tone and a raised brow, half confident that loki is bluffing. part of you hopes she isn’t. “you won’t, princess.”

“oh, yeah?” loki looks playfully offended, tilting her head to the side as she studies your nervous breaths. her lips form a sly smirk on her face as she trails the cold blade down, past her leftover bite marks and down to your chest. she presses the blade against your skin harder, not quite drawing blood, but definitely causing enough pain for you to try to maneuver yourself away. “how about i carve the letters of my name right here across your breasts, you little brat?”

you suck your teeth as the pain grows. you squirm in loki’s grasp and lick your lips. “once again,” you chuckle softly and smirk back up at her. if you are going to do this, part of the fun is the fight. “you won’t do it.”

loki’s lips form a slightly cruel smile. a thin, red line appears on your skin, causing you to hiss out a groan. the pain doesn’t get any easier as you feel a bit of warm blood trickle down your breast before another line is slowly carved, creating an “L” shape on your lower chest. loki goes to continue the three remaining letters, but your struggle to stay still makes her pause. she uses her magic to create green, transparent restraints out of thin air, keeping your wrists pinned to the pillar before teasingly pressing the tip of the blade to the center of your sternum.

“is that all the punishment you can handle for now, little brat? are you gonna stay still for me now?” loki lifts your chin with the end of the dagger, watching you find the strength to nod and recover slowly. you try to ignore the painful reality carved into the skin of your breast. while you don’t yet regret challenging loki’s bluff, it still hurts like hell—like a good hurt…for now at least. you nod in answer to loki’s question before looking at her lips. she reads your expression, understands your nonverbal request, and willingly gives herself to you.

she hums into the kiss, a moan following shortly after as you lift a knee and push it up between her legs. her tongue enters the kiss as she throws the dagger aside, the clattering noise loudly echoing through the hallway. both of her pale hands cup your face, expressing how gentle she now wants to treat your fragile body.

you try to move your arms to hold her closer, caress her curves, tangle your fingers in her hair—anything, but you can only tug at the restraints created by her witchcraft abilities. “lo…,” you pant between kisses in her grasp.

loki notices, but doesn't care. she continues to enjoy caressing your face and body for a few more moments. her hands finally travel lower until her damp fingers reach your sensitive nerves, your aching cunt still craving the delayed orgasm from earlier.

“beg for it,” she coos as her fingers tease your entrance, coating her digits with your wetness.

“loki,” you protest, bucking your hips up slightly in hopes for resumed friction.

“don’t make me repeat myself.” loki’s tone is stern. her free hand squeezes one of your breasts and pinches your nipple, bringing another pained moan from the depths of your throat. you felt so weak already, but loki intends to fuck you as long as you can still stand.

“please, princess. i…i’m begging you. p-please,” you whimper, your back arching against the golden pillar as you continue to squirm under loki’s teasing grasp.

loki grins at the sound of your little whimpers and begs as her thumb adds pressure to your clit. “don’t you dare move now, darling, not until your princess decides you can cum. you understand?”

“yes, lo…” you gasp as she pushes two fingers into your wet cunt. you so badly want to continue to squirm and beg, but you know better now to follow commands to stay still and quiet. your chest unsteadily heaving up and down is the only movement loki allows as her digits pump in and out of you at a slow pace. “m-more…”

her smirk widens at your stuttered request, moving her fingers faster as her mouth reconnects with yours, swallowing every whorish sound you make as she fucks you. your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw locks, trying not to hiss curses through clenched teeth. your faint words are stuttered between soft, breathy moans. “loki…oh, god- i…i’m-”

“i know, my dear. i’m right here. gods, you feel so good wrapped around my fingers…just in a panting mess like this,” loki whispers seductively as her fingers continue to move faster and faster. she kisses the skin beneath your ear between praises. her grip on your breast tightens as she presses her body against you. her pace is perfect. it is all too much, yet not enough.

loki’s lips kiss your cheek before whispering in your ear. “cum for me, darling…”

her thumb presses hard against your clit, and at her words, your body follows her command. the tightness in your abdomen unknots as you release a high-pitched moan that causes a greater effect on loki than you know. she is practically soaked from watching your pleasured reactions. she does not rush you to open your thighs as you ride out your orgasm against her palm. she enjoys the feeling of her hand trapped between them…as well as the thought of what it would be like for her face to be in her hand’s place instead. her kisses are gentle and slow, finding a steady rhythm to allow you breaks in between to catch your breath.

“you’re such a good girl. doing exactly what she’s told.”

the restraints above your head fade away, and you practically melt into loki’s arms. your head feels as light as a feather and every nerve in your body is relaxed. you feel loki’s palm on your breast, resting over the “L” she cut into your skin. a comfortable silence falls between you two as you lazily wonder why her hand is subtly glowing. you know you will never be able to explain how she heals you, even as you watch the tingly green magic flowing from her palm into your sore muscles. once she removes her hand, it’s like there is no trace of the injury, to the point where you almost ask if it was ever there. loki brushes a strand of hair away from your face and kisses the bridge of your nose. with a single motion of her fingers, your black training suit is rolling up until it is snug on your body, with no trace of her hungry hands pulling at the fabric minutes prior.

as if on cue, you hear the double doors at the end of the hall open, making an unmistakable creaking sound notifying you the council meeting is over. stomping noises of guards lined in pairs and the confident voice of thor reverbs off the walls, causing you and the goddess to shrink further behind the wide golden pillar.

as you smooth out your hair, she adjusts her helmet and attempts to play with the small weapons in your belt. you swat her hand away as thor, odin, and rows of asgardian keepers pass by, sounds of their armor clanging and clashing.

thor’s words boom above all the noise to instruct a young palace maid to fetch you from your chambers, where you’ve supposedly been told to wait during the meeting. steps at the volume of a mouse scurry off towards the direction of your quarters.

as soon as all footsteps recede, loki’s arms wrap around your waist from behind and cling tight, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“surely, you’re not leaving for midgard now. are you, darling?” she pouts.

you chuckle for a moment until you realize she is serious. “i do have to go, princess.”

“and there is no way i could…convince you to stay?” she purrs, nibbling at your ear.

“i know you could, and that’s why i need to leave now before you get the chance,” your voice is soft and teasing. “but if there is another…weaponry transfer…i’ll make sure to travel along.”

the goddess of mischief reads your honest facial expression and kisses you. a gentle goodbye.

“that’s my good girl.”

---------------------------------------

as much time as i spent working on this…i don’t like it >:(

my wife deserves better smut than this smh

requests are open babes <3

-bee xx

#bee #maneskinwh0re #lesbian #fem loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki series #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu loki #marvel mcu

78 notes · View notes

soubi122 · 2 years ago

Text

Giving In - Sano Manjiro

All, I will be super slow in releasing stuff. This one just got finished quicker than the others. :)

Smut, friends to lovers, short stories, one shot. ALL ADULTS - 🚫NO MINORS PLEASE! 🚫

Mikey

It was 2am and you both were still out roaming the streets. Nothing beats riding around in the dead of night to clear your head. He was your closest friend and often your shoulder to lean on. “Can I stay at your place?” You ask him while burying your face into his back. He was zooming down the streets and you didn't want to go home. There was not much waiting for you anyways. “Yeah, but you're sleeping on the couch.” He chuckles and speeds up.

Arriving at his place, you kicked off your shoes and asked him for a t-shirt. Here was the drill - change and get ready for bed. But he'd always get changed in front of you to get you all flustered and turn off the lights, allowing you to change in the dark. You'd think he'd be facing the other way but often he'd be facing you - wanting to see how your silhouette moves as you're undressing. Fuck, he couldn't help but palm himself under the sheets. Little did he know that you would purposely stand where the most outside light could be casted, you wanted him to see you. Taking off your bra in the most sensual way just to try and catch his attention. Bending over and slightly arching your back so that the curve of your ass catches the light. Oh if he could just reach out and touch you but.. Mikey was stubborn, he didn't want to make the first move and you knew it. The tension was always there and yet he always left you guessing. You wanted nothing more than to tell him how you feel but would he actually respond to your feelings?

As Mikey was changing, he noticed how your eyes would shift back and forth between him and the opposite direction. Those defined abs and veins on his arms did wonders for your core. “Like what you see?” He says teasingly and raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. He was a tease. “Shut up and get dressed already!” You snap and turn around to avoid his eyes, you didn't want him to see the mad blush on your face. He chuckled and turned off the lights, allowing you to get changed. “Sweet dreams (Y/N).” Oh my god, he knew exactly what he was doing. The coy tone had you biting your lip and quickly getting changed.

Laying on the couch, your mind started to wonder and remembered all the times he'd make butterflies rampant in your stomach. You couldn't sleep. An hour had already passed and you could hear Mikey's soft snores from the other side of the room. The t-shirt you were wearing smelled like him and you couldn't help but lightly run your hands up your chest. What were you doing? Why were you getting like this? Especially when he's in the room with you? I mean it's not the first time you've slept over and it's not the first time you've thought about sharing a bed with him. But something was different, his scent was intoxicating and you wanted more. No, no, no, don't even think about it! He's right here! You yell at yourself internally as your hands begin to wander.

The temperature in the room began to drop and you were shivering underneath the blanket he gave you. It’s never gotten this cold in his room before. He had thick blanket and you had a thin sheet. Your teeth began to chatter and couldn't take it anymore. Maybe you should have just slept in the clothes you were in, you’re just in a t-shirt and nothing else. Getting up from the couch you walked over to Mikey's bed and gently nudged him, “Do you have another blanket? It's freezing.” You whisper and notice that he's sound asleep. There was no way you were going to go back to the couch without another blanket but there was none insight. You sighed and quietly lifted the sheets and got in bed with him. It was so warm and cozy underneath the blanket. You could feel your cheeks heat up at having him so close. Getting closer to him, your hand lightly trails along his back and you could feel his muscles. “(Y/N)...?” Mikey says half asleep. You let out a squeak. Did he feel you touching him?

He turned around and reached out to cup your face to make sure he wasn't dreaming. “Sorry, it was really cold - I'll go back to the couch.” Just as you began to back away he pulled you in. You gasped when his arms tightened around your waist. “Stay…” It wasn't a request. How could you say no? His body was so warm and you felt something poke your lower abdomen. Oh my… He nuzzled his face in your chest and you thought your heart was about to explode. “...took you long enough to come to me.” He says while swinging your leg over his hip and grabbing a handful of your cheeks. What in the world was he doing? “oh…you’re not wearing any pants.” He snickered and it made your body shudder. You heard that sleepy Mikey is super needy but this? You were not expecting him to cling to you.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks and places kisses on your neck. You were too stunned to move or even respond. Mikey settled for the silence and continued to roam his hands on your body, drawing light moans and gasps from you. “I see how you look at me, how your eyes light up when we’re together, how your lips pout when I talk to other girls, how you rub your thighs together when I tease you…the list goes on and on.” Now you felt faint, your body was shuddering and you began to pant - he was laying you bare. “I-I…” Your words trail off as he nipped at your neck. “You want me too, right?” The playful tone in his voice had you rutting your hips against him. The sexual tension was so thick - you could almost cut it with a knife.

Cupping his face with your hands, you tilted his head upwards to meet his lips with yours. You could feel his lips curve into a smile when you kissed him. He was right, you wanted him just as bad and it shows. You both could barely breathe, the way your tongues danced and fought for dominance had you feeling almost light headed. Mikey whimpered when his tip rubbed against your clothed cunt, he was so sensitive - he’s been waiting for this for so long. The soft moonlight that bled into his room allowed you both to see the hazy look on your faces. His blonde tresses were such a mess and you loved it. How many times have you thought about running your hands through his hair before? How many times have you dreamed about him? How many times did you call out his name while touching yourself? How many times did he fist his cock while thinking about you?

Rolling your body on top of him, his hands placed themselves on your hips - making you grind on him. His hardened member twitched between your legs and you could feel the slick pooling on your pantyline. You were such a mess, feeling him underneath you felt like heaven. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that he was going to get you off on just friction alone. Your breath hitched at him picking up the pace. He could feel the wet patch that formed between both of you. The warmth and desire threw him over the edge, he ripped the fabric of your panties and slid his boxers down. He could feel your bare pussy and your slick coated his cock. Hearing him pant and moan as his length slid between your folds gave you butterflies. Biting back the urge to sink down on his cock, you continued the flow of movement and took his hand in yours. Bringing it to your lips, you wrapped your plush lips around two fingers and slowly sucked on them. The sudden action had Mikey whimpering and you could almost see a pout form on his face through the moonlight. He could only imagine having your pouty lips wrap around his length, the thought was driving him mad. What a cruel woman you were.

Minutes of teasing him, he couldn’t take it anymore - he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and lifted your t-shirt, making you lean forward so that he could latch his mouth onto your nipple. “Don't stop (Y/N)...” Your right hand was holding on to the headboard as he rutted his hips against you, he was giving you further friction on your clit. The way his tongue was flicking your nipple you thought you were going to lose it. Little by little the coil in your belly began to tighten. Now it was his turn to tease you. Mikey’s mouth was vicious, biting and tugging at your nipple and purposely making you mewl loudly. Hearing you moan just for him was like music to his ears. When your nipple was all sore and tender, he moved on to your other breast and gave it the same harsh treatment. He was hungry, starved almost. He was throbbing beneath you and his breath hitched as you raised your hips - making his tip prod your core. “Mikey, I feel it…oh god, I feel it!” You moan and throw your head back at him invading your honeypot.

“Hah, fuck-(Y/N), you feel so good.” He says as you sink further down, for a moment he thought his eyes were about to roll back into his skull. Finally, when he bottomed out you couldn’t help but raise your hips again - riding his length and seeing stars in your vision. The sound of your breathy moans and slick echoed in the room. Surrendering yourself to him left a mixed feeling of guilt and desire. What would your friendship be like after this? Would he ask you to be his and only his? Or will he wake up the next morning and act like nothing happened and continue teasing you? The thoughts were beginning to interrupt the rhythm of your hips. Almost as if he could read your thoughts, Mikey spoke and caressed your cheek - brushing his thumb over your parted lips. “Say you’re mine, angel.” You felt your heart skip a beat. This is exactly what you wanted to hear - what’ve you’ve been waiting to hear.

Too engrossed in the pleasure you were a moaning mess and struggled to string a sentence together for him. "M-Manjiro…ngh! I-I'm yours - oh god - I'm yours…" You stutter and pick up the pace. "Good girl." Mikey says and pulls you in, giving you a tender kiss and thrusts upwards to reach your golden spot. Feeling how your walls clenched around his length, he felt closer to his breaking point. You felt his hand snake between your bodies and his thumb traced circles on your clit. He was ripping the orgasm out of you with force. Your core was pulsing and his cock was almost bruising your cervix. Teetering on the edge of bliss, Mikey gave you the final push and put more pressure on your clit. Your thighs began to shake and his name dripped from your lips repeatedly as your coil snapped.

Without warning his own coil snapped. He gripped your hips as he emptied his seed deep inside your core. You were both a sweaty mess and paused to catch your breaths. Collapsing on his chest you could feel his heart pounding against his chest. The intense throbbing from his length inside you kept making you clench. "You're all mine, angel." Mikey pants and plants a kiss on top of your head. This was the start of something new, something new yet familiar - maybe you should sleep over more often.

END

612 notes · View notes

ave09 · 2 months ago

Note

can you write a cute one shot of winn and reader on like a first date?

walk and talk

winn schott x female!reader

note: school is kicking my ASS! i’ll try and get one shots out more often, but between school and theatre, it’s rough. but please keep sending in ideas, i’m obsessed with writing these!! i promise they’ll be out!!

he paced back and forth, fiddling with the sleeve of his flannel as he waited.

he’d been asked out. him! he, winn schott, certified I.T. nerd, had been asked out by the single most badass DEO agent on valentine’s day! what!

he didn’t think it was real, could it be real? it was a date, she said so herself! he glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. was this too much? did badasses like her like flowers?

he let out a deep sigh. “get it together schott, you screw this up, you’re done. you’re burying yourself in a hole and never coming out.”

“why are we doing that?”

he jumped at the sound of her voice, turning on his heel, his voice catching in his throat, a single weak, “woah.” slipping past his lips.

“woah?” she repeated, a hint of insecurities pasting through. he’d never seen her like this. so… casual. adorning a cute outfit, her hair free rather than restricted like it always was at work.

she was beautiful, no, she was stunning.

“you look… amazing.” he breathed, gazing at her with such affection. a soft blush tinted her cheeks, “and you look handsome.” she murmured, smiling.

he caught himself staring too long as he cleared his throat awkwardly, “uh-“ he lifted the bouquet, “for you, m’lady.”

‘m’lady? what the fuck?’

“i-uh-didn’t know what you liked-but they’re yellow-and you like yellow so-“

“you remembered that?” she asked softly, gingerly taking the flowers. it had been mentioned one time, one single time, and he was in the room, not even directly involved in the conversation.

and yet, he’d remembered.

he sent her a sort of lopesided grin, “well, yeah, i did.” he said, somewhat proud of himself seeing her reaction.

maybe this would go well.

she smiled softly again, “they’re beautiful, thank you.”

“beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” he said with a nervous laugh, “uh, should we go? i know a nice spot.”

nothing had really been planned, this was simply a little impromptu date, no dinner plans, no reservations, just two people struggling to overcome their mutual pining.

“we should,” she hummed.

he smiled, beginning to walk as she fell in step with him. his hands were shoved in his pockets, most likely to keep him from fidgeting.

“can you hold something for me?” she asked, internally cringing as she asked. he glanced over at her, “uh yeah, what?” he asked, extending his hand toward her.

she gently took it, intertwining their fingers. “woah.” he said, to which she awkwardly laughed, “i’m sorry-that was cheesy.”

“huh? no-“ he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “it’s not cheesy?”

“maybe a bit. but hey, i’m cheesy too. we can be cheesy together!”

she smiled at his words. ‘cheesy together’. she liked the sound of that.

“so.. what exactly is the plan-if you have one..?”

he didn’t. he had zero plans. but, spontaneity was always an option.

“uh.. i mean.. we could just.. walk?” he stammered out, a sheepishly smile on his face.

“walk?” she repeated softly.

“walk and talk?” he suggested, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

she squeezed it back. “walk and talk it is.”

#jeremy jordan #broadway #jeremy jordan x reader #winn schott #winn schott x reader #supergirl cw

32 notes · View notes

sobeautifullyobsessed · 8 months ago

Text

'It's Not the Years, Honey - It's the Mileage'

a Whumped Doctor Strange one-shot

Inspired by a couple of pre Multiverse of Madness articles comparing Stephen Strange to Indiana Jones😉😁

genre: whump, hurt/comfort, light humor

rating: general audience

characters: Stephen Strange, Tess O'Neill (Healer of Kamar-Taj, OFC); established relationship; Cloak of Levitation

word count: 1.9k

It was supposed to have been date night, but Stephen was overdue. Three hours overdue. Again. Tess had taken these things in stride, right from the start. After all, you can’t be lucky enough to be the significant other of the Sorcerer Supreme without being incredibly patient, understanding, and flexible. Besides which, he was always so adorable when he finally found his way home, sincere in his apologies, and more often than not, presenting her with a fresh bouquet, which he managed to conjure even before he uttered a single word. Tonight’s transgression was bound to be a two dozen roses mea culpa--and she just knew he’d make them her favorite: pale pink American Beauties.

Not that he ever needed to. His company was dear enough recompense for any time he kept her waiting. Except for the worrying, of course, but Tess had quickly adjusted to that, and so far she hadn’t made any complaint, no matter how late her Stephen managed to show up. She’d rather spend their precious time on more pleasant pursuits--and on showing him however she could, how happy he made her simply by being...him.

And so, Tess had adjusted down their plans. First, from dinner out and a movie, to take-out and the latest blu-ray release. And then from that, to something she could whip up, quick and easy, in the Sanctum’s smaller kitchen. Stephen was bound to be hungry when he arrived, and she had a hearty pot of stew simmering on the stove and a batch of honey cornbread ready to pop into the oven while he cleaned up.

Tess had just given the stew another stir, when she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned to find Cloak looking battle singed and...well...harried. How this being without a face could express such a wide range of emotions was a continual wonder to her--but right now her immediate reaction was to ask if Stephen was alright.

Cloak’s collar shook a clear ‘no’, and then it tugged at her arm, to get her moving. She turned off the stove and moved the stewpot to another burner, and followed Cloak down the grand staircase. And there sat Stephen on the third step, head bowed and shoulders hunched, his bloodstained tunic rent in several places. Tess’s heart leapt to her throat, though she tried to remain calm, realizing that he needed her as a Healer tonight, far more than as the woman who loved him.

She dropped to one knee in front of him, noting that the shelf of his jaw bore a dark bruise, and that he had a nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, a black eye and a split lip. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching her sure hands towards him, studying his wounds with practiced eyes, evaluating which she should address first. Thankfully, the blood on his clothing was dried, so that Tess concluded he wasn’t actively bleeding. “What happened,” she asked quietly, concerned to see him breathe shallowly, as breathing any deeper appeared to make him wince.

“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered, as she placed both of her palms on his chest and closed her eyes, searching for any internal damage.

“Ow...ow...ow...owwwwwwww,” he grumbled, “Is this really necessary?”

Cloak was flitting back and forth, giving the closest approximation of pacing as possible. “It certainly is, as well you know...Doctor.” To that he only grunted, then followed with a heavy groan when she palpated his lower ribs and abdomen. “Stephen,” she informed him patiently, “You’ve got at least three cracked ribs...”

“I know,” he replied curtly, “Don’t you think I know that?”

Tess tried to placate him. “Of course you do--but there’s no need to be pissy about it. It’ll just take a simple healing spell to start them knitting properly together.”

“I...know,” he repeated through gritted teeth, attempting to stand. Cloak had to swoop in to keep him from landing hard on his bottom.

Tess rose and wiped her hands on her denim capris. “Cloak, can you get him up to the infirmary, so I can take care of him properly?”

Cloak nodded, but Stephen had other ideas. “No infirmary--just get me to my room...”

Honestly, doctors really do make the worst patients, she thought, although she held her tongue, telling Stephen instead, “Nope. It’s the infirmary for you.” He huffed, but didn’t speak up. “And that’s Healer’s orders, Stephen. I outrank you in this, at least for the moment...”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively. He handed her his sling ring, “We can portal there--it’ll be quicker and a less bumpy trip than relying on...” He wagged his head in Cloak’s direction.

Tess had to suppress a chuckle, as Cloak’s reaction to that perceived insult was to turn its back to Stephen. “Alright,” she sighed, slipping his ring on and bringing the golden circle to life. She returned to his side and offered him a hand to help him stand up. “Just lean on me, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

She could feel his aversion to appearing so needy, even as he braced himself with an arm across her shoulders, but knew well that it wasn’t on her account. Stephen generally disliked showing weakness to anyone, although as their relationship had blossomed, his trust in her had been enough for him to reveal much of what he hid from the world behind sarcasm and bravado. Tess had always taken such precious trust as both a privilege and an honor. Stiff lipped against his pain and leaning on her heavily, they hobbled through the portal and Tess led him to sit on the nearest bed.

The infirmary was empty but for them, and she took a moment to close the portal, and then rushed to gather her supplies. Disinfectant and a basin of warm water, along with a washcloth and the softest, fluffiest towel she could conjure, for after she got him cleaned up. And bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Tess returned to Stephen’s side to find him struggling to remove his tunic. She set down her things, telling him, “Here...let me...”

“I’ve...got...this.” he grunted, though it was clearly hurting him to raise his arms above his head.

“No. No you don’t,” she corrected him gently, “Please--just let me do my job, Stephen.”

“Alright...alright...” He did his best to relax as she worked the garment over his head and off. Tess gasped at the network of contusions across his shoulders and upper chest. “Dammit, Tess...that hurts!”

“I know, darling. I know.” To her relief, most of his bruises appeared superficial. “Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, okay.” Stephen nooded, and closed his eyes as she washed the cut on his nose, and several shallow scratches on his cheeks and chin, finally seeing to the split on his lower lip.

Next, she addressed the wounds on his back, circling behind him and perching on the edge of the bed. She was relieved again to find that they were rather shallow as well, and made quick work of cleansing them. Tess chose that moment to speak to him as his woman, rather than as a Healer. “You know--you’re extremely fit for a man your age, darling. But it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more careful out there.”

“It’s not the years, honey...” he snorted, “...it’s the mileage...” Stephen had stiffened despite her gentle approach, but when she applied the disinfectant, he hissed out a string of very un-Stephen-like curses.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she muttered, her patience beginning to strain.

“I’m not,” he responded petulantly.

Coulda fooled me, she thought, but bit back that retort. A few minutes more and she had his wounds properly bandaged. Tess set aside the basin and the towel, telling him, “Now let’s see about those ribs. Do you think you can lay back? It’ll be easier that way.”

“Of course I can,” he barked, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

No, you’re just the crankiest Master of the Mystic Arts that I've ever encountered. Bravest and most selfless too, so I suppose I can forgive your churlishness.

He winced when she placed her hands on his shoulders, helping to ease him onto his back. Closing her eyes again, she skimmed her hands above the skin covering his damaged ribs, whispering the charm needed to bolster his body’s natural healing ability. Satisfied that she had succeeded once she could feel the spell take root, Tess pulled her hands away and opened her eyes. Stephen’s were closed, and his face had gone slack with a look of relief. Good enough, she concluded, hoping he would sleep a long while to aid in healing.

Still, she thought she could do a little something to speed the reduction in the nastiest of his contusions--and it would be best to try while he was asleep. She reached tentative fingers to Stephen’s right shoulder. His eyes flew open with a start, “Owwwwww...that’s still tender, you know!”

“I’m just trying to help...”

“Well...I don’t need a nurse anymore,” he groused, “I just want to sleep.”

“If you let me see to these now, you’ll feel much better in the morning...” Tess trailed her fingertips along his jaw, channeling her own energy into relieving his pain. “Any better?”

"A little,” he pouted, “But it hurts...almost everywhere...”

There seemed to be no pleasing him this way--but still, it was her nature to try. Exasperated, she blurted out, “Well, dammit, Stephen--where doesn’t it hurt?”

Looking defiant, he showed her his elbow, “Here.” Tess laid the softest kiss she could upon it.

“And...and here,” he added, pointing to his forehead, his whole demeanor softening in response to her tenderness. Cautiously, Tess leaned in and planted a loving kiss there. Momentum had turned in her favor.

Stephen pointed to his un-blackened eye, “Um...here?”

Tess smiled softly, watching his eyes flutter shut, and then brushed her lips as lightly as she could upon his eyelid. There was a moment as her face hovered over his, and the look when he opened his eyes made her heart start to melt--for within their mercurial depths, she saw both gratitude and an apology for his childish behavior. Stephen tapped his lips and murmured, “Here.”

She wondered if he felt her indulgent smile as their lips finally met, but before too long their kiss had gone from chaste to something deeper and more enduring, as he relaxed completely under her loving ministration. When she finally pulled away, Tess found that her kiss had worked a magic of its own, and her beloved Stephen was out like a light.

Tess arose and draped the sheet across him lightly, then levitated the next bed over and landed it flush against his. Her hunch was that he’d sleep through the night, but she wanted to be close by if he should need her.

Come morning, she awoke to find him gone--can’t keep a good Sorcerer down for long, she mused--but in his place, he’d left three dozen pale pink American Beauties, and a small piece of handwritten parchment. It was brief but to the point:

Thank you, honey. For everything. Love - your Stephen xx

tagging: @hithertoundreamtof23 @stewardofningishzida @ironstrange1991 @mousedetective @aphroditesdilemma @icytrickster17 @groovyqueer @battledress @aelaer @mckiwi @couldntbedamned

58 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 10 months ago

Note

Hey Vod’ika, hope you’re having a happy new year! I was wondering if you could do a f!reader x Fordo piece(or with and alpha arc really). Reader is a special ops officer and works closely with them, and has the most devastating crush on him. The thing is reader is really depressed and has a very low opinion of herself for a lot of reasons so she doesn’t think she even has a shot. The trooper himself thinks otherwise, and all it takes for everyone’s feelings to come to light is reader accidentally finding the trooper’s sketchbook which is filled to the brim with hand drawn sketches pinups of her(I like to headcanon the clones sometimes had a natch for art because Jango had a natural hand for it) and she’s shocked and honored but has a lot of questions. Que the embarrassing confession between reader and trooper ;) sorry if this is all weirdly specific pls don’t feel pressed to get every detail if you don’t want don’t mind me I’m just feeling crazy today

The Sketchbook

Summary: You've had a crush on Fordo for ages, and you're convinced nothing will ever come of it. And then you find the sketchbook.

Pairing: ARC Captain Fordo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1373

Warnings: Reader is not in the best place mentally speaking

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. And I'm sorry it took so long!

You mumble under your breath as you walk through the halls of Topica City, your gaze locked on your datapad as you quickly parse through the information from one of the special ops teams.

Once upon a time, at the beginning of the war, you would have been with them, going over the information in real time, but after a serious injury left you with a prosthetic leg, you were relegated to having to analyze information from Kamino, rather than on the front lines.

No one blames you. Which is fine, you blame yourself enough for an entire squad.

You turn a corner, and let out a startled noise as you crash into something very solid. Red and white armor, and jaig eyes on the helmet hanging from his hands…whoops.

“Captain Fordo, my apologies, I didn’t see you.” You internally swear at yourself, of course you didn’t see him, you weren’t looking. Gods, you’re so dumb sometimes-

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have been lurking around corners,” Fordo interrupts your mental train of thought, his voice quiet.

“Even so, I should have been paying more attention.” You say quickly, “I should know better than to try and read and walk at the same time-”

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Fordo interrupts you again, “It’s not like you would have been able to hurt me.” His harsh words are accompanied with a kind smile, and your heart lurches.

Now is not the time for your embarrassing crush to rear its ugly head, you think firmly to yourself. “Well, thank goodness for small mercies, right?” You say with a tiny smile, “But I’ll get out of your way, Captain.”

“Fordo,” He murmurs, “We see each other daily.” He clarifies, “You can just call me by my name.”

“I…of course.” You say, slightly awkwardly, “Fordo, then.”

He smiles again, seemingly pleased with something so simple, “I appreciate it. But I do have to go-”

“Right! Of course. I’ll get out of your way!” You step to the side, and Fordo steps past you continuing down the hall, and you sigh, as you continue your trek to your office. You’re not going to get anything else done today, that’s for sure.

After all, you never do when you get the chance to talk to Fordo.

You push your way into your office and set your datapad on your desk, before you sink into your seat and press your face into your hands.

Frankly, your crush on Fordo is humiliating. He’s literally perfect, and you’re…well you.

You push your hands through your hair, and then sit up. Fordo will never look at you the way you look at him, because you’re not good enough, and that’s fine. It’s fine.

Totally fine.

…maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough you’ll believe it.

You focus your attention back on your datapad, and on the information that you’ve been parsing. And you slowly reach for it. At least this work will get your mind off of Fordo.

Maybe.

Several hours later, with your eyes burning with exhaustion, you finally finish for the day, and slowly make your way from your office to your suite. You walk the path blindly, exhaustion making you pay even less attention than you normally would.

Which is why you don’t see the notebook until you step on it.

You stare at it, puzzled, and then you sigh and pick it up, opening it to the first page. Surely someone wrote their name inside the book.

The notebook falls open towards a middle page and you stare, dumbly, at the image etched on the page.

It’s…you.

Page after page of you.

Images of you sitting at a table. Of you walking through the halls. Of you standing in the rain.

And every so often, there are images of you that could have only come out of the artist's imagination. Images of you clad in lingerie, images of you sprawled on the bed, you in every state of undress that you can imagine.

Your face burns with slight embarrassment as you slam the book shut, you shouldn’t have looked at those. They weren’t for your eyes. Carefully, you open to the very first page and scan for a name.

And then you nearly drop the book in surprise.

Fordo.

Fordo?

This is Fordo’s notebook?

Maybe…you should just put it back on the floor and let him find it himself. Maybe that would be better than letting him know that you saw his drawings of you.

Nervously you rub the back of your neck as you try and decide what to do.

You jump when you hear heavy footsteps behind you, and you whirl around, an excuse already on your tongue for why you’re just standing in the hallway, though the words die on your tongue when you see Fordo standing there.

His gaze drops to the book in your hands, and he shifts, slightly uncomfortably, “That’s mine.” He says quietly.

You hold it out to him, “Um, I found it. I stepped on it, I’m so sorry-”

He lightly takes the book from you, “Did you, uh…look inside?”

Your face burns, “I…yes. I was looking for a name-” You pause and your face heats a little more, “You’re a very good artist.” You offer.

“Kriff, you weren’t supposed to see those.” Fordo mutters, “Why’d it have to be this one that I dropped?”

“Um-”

“I can explain.” He says quickly, “About…about the pictures of you. And the…less than fully clothed pictures of you-”

“You don’t have to,” You take a deep breath, “I know there aren’t a lot of women here, and I’m flattered-”

“It wouldn’t matter even if there were more women here, because I’d still draw you.” Fordo interrupts. “You’re the only woman I want to draw. Ever.”

Your thought process derails completely. “...oh.”

“Look, you’re…” He pauses to gather his thoughts, “Gorgeous. Funny. Clever. And so very competent, which is unfairly attractive, so you know.” Fordo looks at you, and then he continues, “You also lost a leg and it barely slowed you down at all-”

“Fordo, you-”

“Let me finish? Please?”

You stop talking immediately, “I go out of my way to talk to you when I can, but you’re so busy all of the time, that all I can do is just put myself in your way and hope that you run into me.” Fordo continues, “And I know I’m just a clone, and I know I have millions of identical brothers, but I just want-...” He trails off with a sigh, “You. I just want you.” He pauses, “You can talk now.”

Millions of half finished thoughts spin through your mind, “You and your brothers aren’t interchangeable, Fordo.” Is the first coherent thought that slips from you, “And I’m hardly…I’m barely holding myself together most days. I’m not…any of those things that you say I am.”

“I disagree. If you could see yourself the way that I see you…” He trails off with a sigh, “Stars, you’re perfect.”

“I’m really not-”

“I want you to be mine.” Fordo says quickly, “I want to…to kiss you and hug you and make you believe me when I say nice things about you. I want to wake up every morning and see your face first thing, and I want your face to be the last thing I see before I go to bed, but I know that I don’t have anything to offer you except my affection.”

You stare at him, your lips parted in surprise, “I…don’t need anything more than that.” You finally say and his gaze snaps to yours.

Fordo scans your face for a moment, and you shift uncomfortably, “You mean it.” He finally says.

“Yeah. I mean,” You nervously twist your hair between your fingers, “I’ve had an embarrassing crush on you forever it feels like, so…yeah. I don’t want or need anything more than just your affection.”

Fordo takes a step towards you and reaches out to brush his hand against your cheek, “I can do that.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” You ask, your voice a whisper, “I’m not the best cook but-”

“Yes. Yes, I would.” Fordo says with a small grin, “Right now.”

#star wars #tcw #arc captain fordo x reader #fordo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #F!reader fanfiction #answered asks

91 notes · View notes

anonymooseforever007 · 2 years ago

Text

Romantic Capture? (Pt 2. Romantic Escape)

(Tommy Shelby X female reader)

Summery: Y/N's successfully managed to con her way to her husband's car keys. Now she's free to have the fun she's been missing for the past week. But with an unexpected call from Polly, will her plans actually go to plan? Part two of Romantic Escape!

A/N: Hi y'all! No TW's for this (Tommy does get accidentally scuffed up tho) but I do think Tommy may be a bit OOC because this part has him talking about his feelings to the reader and I'm honestly not too sure how to write that, so idk if I did it well, but I tried! I kinda see him as someone who doesn't like admitting his fears and mistakes so when he actually does he's unsure of what to say as opposed to his usual suave self and tried writing it like that. So it's definitely got a bit of a different tone than the last one but it's still got good fun bits! I hope y'all enjoy!❤️

WC- 2.9k

Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone in Tommy's office rang.

"Polly? That you? I just started those papers you wanted, was there something else?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggled to yourself as you internally relived about your grand success, checking your mirrors one last time before getting ready to drive off. Silently, you thanked your husband for filling up the gas tank on his way back today.

It took months for most people to even try coming up with a plan to win one over THE Thomas Shelby. Keyword try. But you'd managed a successful caper in under an hour. And to top it off, if everything went as planned you'd have some fun with your "poor victim" when you returned. Maybe you should try this thing more often. You had been trying to convince him to let you redo the washroom for a while now. You thought the space would look just lovely with a new coat of paint and padded benches for you and the maids to sit on while talking and folding clothes. Or the garage. There was an empty space there you would have loved to turn into a workshop for the gardener and handyman. It was perfect for tools and lunch. OOH! Or maybe you could finally get the rolling ladder you'd wanted in the library, since you'd first moved in! You always wanted one as a kid! Yes, you would definitely have to try this thing again, especially if it went so smoothly the first time!

But that was for another day. If you left right now you'd make it in time to find good seats. Had this been a film, it would be the part where the captive finally gets out of their cell and starts joyously yelling "I'm free! I'm free I'm fr..."

A hand shot through the window and grabbed the steering wheel. Screaming, you did the first thing that came to your mind. Reaching out the window to grab the collar of your attacker, you yanked them forwards as hard as you could, while simultaneously stepping on the gas. You heard a head hit the car's roof as it made contact with the shiny metal.

"FUCK!"

Wait.

You knew that voice. And the tie wrapped between you fingers....

Oh no.

"Tommy? What the hell are you doing?" You questioned, quickly letting go of him and looking down at you husband who was cradling an injured nose and making sure his toes weren't broken from you almost running them over.

"What the hell am I doing, eh!? What the bloody fuck are you doing," he exclaimed as he got to his feet, using the side of the car to stabilise himself so he wouldn't stumble. He didn't know if he should be frustrated or proud of what you'd just done. On one hand he was happy to know you wouldn't freeze up when surprised if someone came out of nowhere. But on the other hand....that fucking hurt. He could already feel the headache forming and it took a solid minute for his vision to clear. The car was still running and once again your husband reached through the window, trying to grab the keys from the ignition.

"No," you smacked his hand away from the keys, gently but firmly. Tommy gave you a confused look and tried again.

"No. Tommy, no. Leave it. No. Thomas no." accompanied by another few gentle smacks until he pulled his hand back. You used one hand to guard the keys while the other remained slightly lofted, ready to bat again if needed. Tommy looked at you perplexed. In a manner only you could accomplish, he was left with absolutely no idea what was going on.

"What do you mean 'no'? What are you doing, I thought you were going upstairs eh? And Polly called said there were never any papers she needed," he'd questioned. If it was anyone else aside from you he'd probably be very angry by now. Because you'd lied to him, and Thomas Shelby didn't like being lied to. You also nearly ran him over, but it wasn't a first for that and he was honestly more annoyed at being lied to. That wasn't something he took lightly.

Especially when the lies involved stealing his car. But this wasn't anyone else. This was you. You looked at him for a moment before sighing and turning off the car, but remained in the drivers seat. Well, if you couldn't get out through trickery maybe the truth would work. And a little guilt tripping possibly?

"I'm taking the car out," you replied. "I wanted to go to the movies with Lizzie and maybe have a few drinks after. I haven't been out all week and my head feels fine. It's felt fine since the third day, but even then no one let me do anything. None of my friends or anyone else was able to come over either so I've been stuck all week and I'm bored and it's been getting lonely too." You looked at you husband whose face had softened and continued, "So I called up Lizzie and I've got to meet her in half an hour if we want to get good seats. And Thomas I love you, but I am doing this. I know you're on edge because of what happened a few months ago, but I promise I'm all good now. You aren't able to control every little thing that happens to me. I'll get hurt sometimes and so will you, and that's just life. You can't make me live in a bubble after every little bump and bruise."

Reaching one hand out the car window you gently grabbed your husband's chin and ran a finger over his cheek, where an increasingly red mark had begun to form. Thank Heavens, for once he hadn't had a cigarette in his mouth when you'd yanked him. He's probably have a burn on his face too. You really didn't intend to hurt him, thinking it was someone else trying to grab you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I thought you'd make another fuss if I told you and I really didn't want to argue again. I know you care about me but you have to understand Thomas, I'm a grown woman and can make my own choices about then I feel better. It's the same thing you do when you decide to go back to work after being shot or beat up. When we got married we promised to go though life together. And together means side by side, equal steps. It doesn't mean one gets to drag the other along choosing each path alright," Caressing his cheek one last time, you sighed and moved to exit the car. You were still going out of course, but you wanted to take a quick look at Tommy's face in the house where the light was brighter before you left. You knew you'd be distracted and feel slightly guilty all night, not knowing how much damage your unintentional attack truly caused.

But before your hand made it to the car door, it was Tommy who gently knocked your hand away this time. He placed you hand gently on the steering wheel, holding it there, while he closed his eyes for a moment and thought. Then he released you hand, before making his way around the front of the car and moving into the passenger seat. For a few moments the car was silent before Tommy grabbed you hand again and turned slightly so he could face you better.

"Love... Don't feel sorry for what you did, it's not your fault. You weren't... wrong," Tommy started, slightly unsure what to say. He knew the words you had said were right, but he didn't know what to say next. Tommy never was to good at expressing his emotions, especially the strongest ones like love and pride and fear; and he was feeling all of those right now. But since meeting you he'd gotten a little better. At least it got easier to try. And that's what he did now, sitting besides you in the car while the last rays of the sun's light left the horizon for the day. "I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to control your or our life together. I'm not. I just want you to be safe. I don't know what I'd do without you," he continued, trying to remember what you'd told him one day about how he didn't have to be charming or precise when telling you his feelings. You told him they could be as messy and unorganized as he could manage if it meant he was telling you the truth. As long as he trusted you enough to try and let it out you'd be more than happy to listen. He knew you'd never fault him for telling the truth even if you'd still scold him for hiding it.

"The truth is... the truth is that the day you got hurt something else happened. I got a call from a man telling demanding I sign over half the company or else he'd make you pay for me," Tommy paused for a moment trying to press down his anger at the man, "I wasn't worried at first, figured he was just making empty threats. Didn't think anyone was stupid enough to touch you. Then Francis called about your fall and even then I didn't think much about him, I was only worried you were alright. But then, later that night after I saw you, I was looking at the mail. This fucker also sent a letter to the house with the same fucking demand and I didn't see it until then. There was a photo in it too. It was you and your friends sitting in that restaurant you're so fond of. The one where we always get Finn's birthday cake? I don't know how he got that photo," Tommy stressed running a hand through his hair. He knew the man was dead, but it still made his skin crawl thinking of what he could have done. "I don't know what it was, but that photo and you being hurt... it scared me. I don't want to lose you. So since you were already hurt, I used that as an excuse to keep you at the house yeah? The maids really were to make sure you rested your head, but the cars were so I could try and keep you at the house where it was safer. I even had more men posted around the premises during the day." Tommy took a breath gently rubbing his thumb over your hand. He wasn't use to talking this much, even with you. But seeing as you didn't pull back, maybe he hadn't said the wrong thing yet. "But he's gone now, I got word he was taken care of today and he won't hurt you... No one will hurt you. So we don't have to worry about him. I was going to tell you today, I promise I was. But I'm ...I'm sorry Love. I didn't tell you the truth earlier and you got lonely... I should have found a way for your friends to come here or asked you to drive around with one of me men but I didn't yeah? And that.... that may not have been the best plan but it was the only one I could think of to keep you safe. Because you are the most important thing in the world to me Love and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt because of me."

Tommy had finished now. He wasn't sure what else to say. He'd lied to you and he knew you hated that. But in his mind it was for a good cause. He didn't want to burden or stress you with problems created because of him. So he'd hid the truth until he couldn't anymore and after admitting his secrets he was left without a script. Most men would promise it wouldn't happen again, but Tommy couldn't do that. He knew that if you were ever threatened like that again he wouldn't hesitated to hide you away where he knew it was safe, even if you were mad at him for it. And you knew it too. So he wouldn't by make a promise he wouldn't hesitate to break. Not today anyway.

The car was silent for a few moments and Tommy wasn't looking at you anymore. He did that sometimes after admitting something to you. Like he was scared to look into your eyes, and see that you didn't like what he said. And honestly, sometimes you didn't. Sometimes you wished your husband never told you the things he'd done that day or whose blood you were washing off his hands in the middle of the night. But most times like tonight, when he'd finally look up he'd see the same love he saw the day he married you and many days before that. You gently took his face in you hands and guided him to look at you again.

"Tommy, I can't say I'm not mad you didn't tell me the truth sooner, but I'm glad you did now," you started, "I'm alright and so are you and no one is going to hurt us. I get why you wanted to hide it from me, I don't always want to tell you what's scaring me either." Tommy averted his eyes and scoffed briefly at the implication of being scared. Yes, it was true but he still didn't like admitting it. "But I'm glad you told me now, yeah? It's better to get it out eventually than hold it in forever. So I wish you'd told me sooner but for now I'm glad you did. And thank you for apologizing, I forgive you... but I just ask next time someone's threatening ME, that I be the first one you tell yeah? Who knows maybe I can think of a better plan to get rid of him than you huh?"

Tommy closed his eyes briefly, leaning to rest his head on your shoulder. Talking had allowed a weight to lift from his shoulders. Not just because he knew the man was gone, but because he'd finally told you the truth. And apparently, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Yes, he knew you'd still probably lecture him slightly for lying more later, but for now he was just happy for you to know the truth.

"Yeah Love, that I can try to do. Fuck, I can try."

Your fingers pulled the back of his hair lightly as you raised an eyebrow at him.

"'Try,' Thomas?"

A small huff of laughter came from his mouth as he pulled back to look at you again. Now that you'd both told the truth there was a lightness there, which hadn't been present all week.

"Promise, I promise you'll be the first to know if any rat bastard ever thinks of threatening you again eh?"

"That sounds more like it, my dear darling."

This time it was your turn to rest your head on his shoulder for a few moments as silence once more overtook the car. When you looked up again, you moved to gently kissed your husband on his still reddened cheek. As you went to do it a second time he turned his head, allowing your lips to connect with his as he returned the kiss gently. It took a few seconds before he tried deepening it again, and his hands had just reached the hem of your skirt when he was once again stopped. Panting slightly you resting your forehead against his, slightly brushing the loose strands on the back of his neck. He let out a soft groan at that. He loved the way your fingers felt playing with his hair like that, especially if it was late at night when you were both in bed after a long day.

"Tommy?"

"Yeah Love?"

"I still am meeting Lizzie tonight. If I stay at this house for one more minute I may actually set something on fire," you finished, readjusting your skirt and turning the car on again. If you left now you'd still just barely make it. "Like I may actually give Alfie Solomons a run for his money with the fight I'm going to put up if I don't get out within the next five minutes. Or I may pay him to do it for me, the lovely man. He use to be a boxer you know. "

Tommy rolled his eyes at the Alfie comment before smirking and leaning back in his seat, putting one arm around the back of yours, "Alright then Love let's get going."

You laughed, pushing his arm back and turned to him, "Oh, no chance in hell you're coming with me. I may forgive you for lying to me, but you're still not out of the dog house yet. Besides, this is a night for ME and Lizzie. Not me, Lizzie, and YOU."

"Come on Love. I'm sure Lizzie wouldn't mind. After all, it still could be dangerous out there. It is getting dark after all."

"Well then it's a pretty good think I can protect myself isn't it? Remember the gun Esme got me for Christmas? And so can Lizzie. You aren't the only one with tricks up your sleeve. So you. Hop out of the car before I'm forced to make you and," You leaned closer, "how about you spend the time I'm gone planning another apology eh?"

Tommy let out a huff of laughter, but complied. He walked around the front of the car again before leaning down to the still open window.

"Another apology eh? I thought you'd already taken the first one."

"Of course, but you still have to make up for earlier to remember? After all, I won't be out with Lizzie all night and you did say you'd stay in your office until 10:30. That's something else to make up for isn't it? You didn't even give me time to start a bath to hide, cheater," you teased lightly as you played with Tommy's tie and his eyes light up like they had earlier when you'd sent him to the office.

"Oh that's the kinda apology you want isn't it? I can manage that. I can manage that very well Love. How about this time I hide for you to find me? Change up our little game eh?" Tommy kissed your hand teasingly before finally stepping back to let you leave. "Though I did help Curly clean the horses earlier at Charlie's yard, and that was a bit messy" Tommy restated your words earlier, "So when you're done why don't you start by looking in places one can get a little less...dirty eh? Maybe the bath will still be warm...."

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders

391 notes · View notes