#like he holds her and she seems so sweet and delicate

[moonstruckme]

hiiiii mae!! hope ur having a good day/night, i was wondering if you would do a emt!marauders (or just remus) fic with a reader who maybe has past medical trauma or something so she really hates going to the doctors and avoids unplanned visits at all costs and one day she gets hurt doing something and she tells herself she’s fine but she’s really not (maybe she has like a concussion or something) and she tries to tell the boys she’s okay and she doesn’t need to go to the hospital but they’re like “yes you do u literally don’t know what day it is” and she kinda starts freaking out and they comfort her????

so sorry if you’ve done something like this you’ve written a LOT of fics (which is amazing i love them all) and i haven’t gotten the chance to read them all yet! anyways hope you have a great day i love ur fics so much!!!!!!

Thank you for your request, love you <3

cw: concussion, hospital mention, implied medical fear/past trauma

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 770 words

“This is supposed to be the sort of thing that only happens to old ladies,” Sirius mutters. “Look at James, dollface.” 

James’ smile is encouraging. “He knows he’s full of shit. We see people fall in showers all the time, it’s not an age thing. You don’t have to be geriatric for soap to be slippery.” 

You know, distantly, that they’re both trying to keep things light for your benefit, but their playacting isn’t helping you. You feel trapped, backed into a corner, and your lovely boyfriends who only want the best for you feel like your captors. 

Sirius clicks off the light he was shining in your eyes just as Remus comes back with your clothes. They exchange a look you don’t like. 

“Here, sweetheart, put this on.” Remus helps you get a sweatshirt over your head, extra careful to hold the collar away from the aching bump on the back of your head. 

You stand from the bed bemusedly as he starts putting your sweatpants on for you, too. You don’t love the vibe of all this coddling, either; the boys are usually only this delicate with you when they’re very concerned, very pitying, or both. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you already know. It’s not as if you would usually hang about in your towel all night after a shower, but they’re getting you dressed for a reason. 

James’ brows twitch together sympathetically. Sirius’ voice is gentle. “Baby, we need to go get your head looked at.” 

Your upset blooms fast and hot, tears choking you. “Why?” 

“You have a concussion, sweet girl. It seems fairly bad already, and it could get worse.” 

“But you’re…you always say hospitals can’t even do anything for those.” You know you sound childish, whiny and difficult, but you can’t help yourself. Your boyfriends don’t seem to hold it against you. James rubs your arm while Remus pulls your socks on with sweet, lingering touches. A tear squeezes out of your eye. “Why do I have to go?” 

“You’re right, there’s not much they can do,” says Remus. His voice is calm and even, a balm to your frazzled nerves. “But a concussion can be dangerous, and without tests we won’t know how dangerous it is or if there’s anything they can help with.” 

“That’s all we’re going for, angel,” James says lightly. “Just some tests. It won’t take terribly long, and we can stay with you most of the time.” 

You’re hardly hearing him, shaking your head despite the way it aches. More tears crest your cheeks, your breaths wet and quick. “Can’t we wait and go tomorrow?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” James takes your hand, squeezing your fingers. “We can’t, my love, but it’s going to be okay.” 

“I really can’t.” You pull your hand from his, wiping underneath your eyes. Your hair is still wet from the shower, cold seeping into your fresh sweatshirt. “I can’t do it. Please don’t make me.” Your voice chokes into a quiet squeak on the last few words. 

Remus coos and sits beside you on the bed, wrapping you up in a hug. You cry into his shoulder as he rocks you gently, murmuring against the side of your head. “Please,” you try again. 

He holds you closer. “I know, darling.” His voice is a low whisper. “I know it’s hard for you, and I know it’s scary, but we’ll be there with you. It’s not going to be as bad as you’re thinking. What we’re going for is really very simple, and Sirius can explain it to you on the way, hm? You’ll be alright.” 

When you calm some, he goes to warm the car, passing you off to Sirius and James to get your shoes on. 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, baby,” Sirius promises, kissing the shell of your ear as he walks you outside. His arm is heavy around your shoulders and James is quick to take your hand after locking the door behind you, bolstering you for what’s ahead. “You think we’re gonna let you get hurt? This is going to be the easiest hospital visit you ever had. We run this place, they’ll have us in and out.” 

“I wouldn’t say we run it,” Remus says drily as you three pile into the backseat. “More like we engage with it, in twelve hour shifts, four to five times a week.” 

“But we do have lots of friends,” James chips in. 

“Exactly.” Sirius busies himself with wiping the last of your tears while James gets your seatbelt on. “Like the radiographer at Bellevue. You’ll see, baby. We’ve got you covered.”

[gallivantingheart]

big scary girlfriend privileges

who?: jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 925

genre/s: fluff, humour, idol!au

warnings: none!

synopsis: your darling boyfriend has just finished another late dance practice and has a found a leech attached to him

When you catch a young woman fawning all over your boyfriend on the way out of practice, you swear you could see red. The hands clutching snacks and a few odds and ends fisted tightly and you ground your teeth together. He looked a little perturbed from the uncomfortable twist to his pretty lips as he gently untangled her from his side. Her hair is long, dark and silky, seeming to dance with a life of its own. She reminded you of a siren, the thought making your stomach churn. Chan happens to walk out next, fringe plastered to his forehead from sweat. His young face lights up at the sight of you, even more so at the bags you carry. Moving around the initial pair he dashes over.

“Y/n! Did you bring snacks?” He embraces you tightly, kissing your cheek politely.

You can still see his eyes darting through the bags you twist behind you. As much as you smile, you’re looking mostly over his shoulder as the girl rolls her eyes and swats the passive rejection off, entwining herself even tighter around him. Her laugh is airy and dismissive as she chatters. He still hasn’t seen you yet somehow, even with Chan’s announcement.

“Yes, but wait for the others. It’s for everyone.” You chose the younger member, nudging him with your shoulder. “Actually, who is that?”

He turns back, still hugging you. The motion tugs you along with him and you see it all even clearer. Chan scowls, a rare expression on his well-humoured face.

“Soojung. She’s one of the marketing department’s nieces. Her uncle is head of the department, so she pretty much gets to do as she pleases. Darling of the board, so to say. She won’t leave Jeonghan-hyung alone.”

“Channie, introduce me, won’t you?” You say, oddly sweet, even for you.

He hums with worry, but by now some more members have trickled out, including Joshua, Jeonghan’s partner in crime - and therefore, yours as well. He reads the room well, passing sight between yourself and the little push and pull a ways away. Passing the bags to Chan, he tucks you under his arm, against his radiating heat.

“Y/n!” He says with a feline beam, kissing your other cheek. “Come on, let’s go see your Hannie.”

You grin up at Joshua knowingly. “Okay!”

“Hyung, look who came to surprise us! It’s Y/n!” He says the moment you end up at their side.

Jeonghan turns, the furrow to his brow softening on sight. His free hand hovers from his hip towards you and you watch Soojung’s delicate features scrunch in displeasure.

“Hey, baby.” You chirp. “Did practice just finish, guys? Or…”

“All done for the day. It’s so nice to see you.” He seems to catch the glint in your eyes, because Hannie turns to bring Soojung in on the plot. “Oh, Soojung. This is Y/n, my girlfriend. Y/n, this is Soojung - her uncle is one of the heads of department here at the company.”

Your syrup sweet smile stays as you hold your hand out to shake hers. “Soojung! So nice to meet you. The boys are just the sweetest, aren’t they? So polite - even when they shouldn’t have to be.”

Joshua’s arm stills around your shoulders at the drop in your tone. Soojung slithers always from Han to shake your hand in reply.

“I - yeah. Super nice.” She mumbles, eyes dancing between all of you. “I-I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Jeong.”

He frowns at her, ready to refute the claim. You jump the mark though, still gripping her hand awkwardly.

“Oh, the company likes to keep it all under wraps. Very private you see. But we make it work. And we’re very loyal to one another.”

She finally manages to pull her hand away so you slink your arms around Jeonghan’s waist, resting your hip against his in a very tacky show of dominance. You were often open with skinship, but not so possessively. Soojung sweeps her long hair over her shoulder and checks the time.

“Right. Well I, uh gotta go - I’ve just remembered that I’ve got that dinner with some uni friends. Bye-bye!”

She hastily weaves through the congregation in the hallway with a vague wave.

“Lovely to meet you Soojung! See you later!” You sing back, sickly saccharine.

Jeonghan’s hand resting at your waist pinches you and you yelp in shock. He soothes quickly afterwards but the point has been made.

“That’s enough, baby. You’ve made your point. Very scary by the way.” Jeonghan says, empty of venom - if anything, it’s soft and teasing.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? I can be scary.” You mock pout.

He rolls his eyes while in the background most of the other members are swarming the goodies you’d brought - and by extension poor Chan.

“Oh very. You know she’s got nothing on you, right?” He murmurs warmly.

You roll your eyes. “Of course I do. Still, sometimes lines need to be drawn. Babe, it’s called boundaries. And if you can’t make them, I can do it for you - don’t be afraid to ask for help. Big Scary Girlfriend Privileges!”

He throws his head back to laugh that sweet squeaky rasp of his that sets your heart a flutter, grinning from ear to ear and squeezing you tight in a half spin.

“Of course. C’mon big scary girlfriend, let’s go scare the members into saving the best for us.”

“It’s called a Courtesy Snack Tax, Hannie. See, I have a name for everything!”

[haz311bl0gs]

Black is the colour of my true love's hair, Her lips are like a rose so fair, She's got the sweetest face and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon she stands. (x)

[werecreature-addicted]

Werewolf boyfriend starts dating a human woman who secretly starts doing research on werewolf's. She asks his packmates and family about traditional things and eventually she finds out. About the sexually intimate gestures for werewolf's. He only finds out when she starts purposely baring her throat or presenting her cunt to him the first time they have sex. Then it hits him! All the things she's been doing to lure him into this committed relationship by tapping into his subconsciousness. She's gotten him to associate her as his mate.

it starts out with small, easily brushed-off acts, you made too much food so you brought him over the leftovers, it wasn't courting, it was just practical. He doesn't think to question how you managed to "accidentally" make an extra rack of ribs but he's just happy to eat. Then a little while later you get caught in the rain together and end up borrowing his jacket, when you give it back it smells like you. he won't deny it, he smells the hoodie over and over again until the scent wears off.

he's pretty upset when it starts smelling like him again, but luckily you're kind of forgetful and accidentally leave stuff over at his place all the time, jackets, shirts, jewelry, just lots of little stuff although he only seems to remind you you left it after your scent has worn off. He really likes it if/when you leave rings behind. they don't really hold your scent like clothes do but it's so small in his palm. it doesn't even fit over the tip of his fingers.

His mind goes completely down the gutter. his fingers would rip your pussy in half if he fingered you, your hands wouldn't even wrap around his cock properly, your hands are so small you're so delicate, why does that make him want you so bad?

You nuzzle him when you cuddle and always playfully bite him or seriously bite him slowly over time you just fall into a relationship. he doesn't even realize it but it just feels so natural to have you with him and it just makes sense to fuck you into to the mattress every chance he gets. you always let him knot you and bite your neck too, you're too sweet. eventually, he wants to do more, be more with you but then he really sits down and looks at your relationship and the only thing missing is the label "mate" Everything else is already normal for you two. What a tease he's going to have to punish you for that, not to hard of course he won't bully his little mate too harshly.

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 delicate seashell - beach vibe, hotel sex

────୨ৎ────

content: friendgroup beach trip, hotel sex, penetrative sex, sweet loving, kind of body worship, established relationship, oral (fem), "gguk" bc its hawt

note from cherry: ignore the typos pls it's late :(

────୨ৎ────

summer hit seoul like a ton of bricks, the usual rainy weather turnings into 40 degree Celsius heat, living without aircon? Impossible.

For the first week of vacation that your work has granted, your far less busy friends and boyfriend all gather up for a trip

Fuck it, let's fly to jeju and enjoy the seaside while the sun lasts

Although blaring and someone unbearable from sweat drenched clothes, noting beats a beach day with enough suncream and fruit to cool off

"Soojin, are you gonna be ready soon?" namjoon calls out, your best friends boyfriend being just as impatient as she is,

"Seriously? We just started getting ready!" She shouts back, rolling her eyes at the closed door,

Sully who's also your childhood bestie, and you share a giggle at Soojin's typical behavior

"Baby?" a soft voice calls out for you, sticking his head into the small gap of the huge hotel bathroom, three girls still in pj's that are busy with skincare and waterproof mascara or the perfect bun all inside

His eyes only land on you, if the other two didn't speak, you're sure he wouldn't even have noticed

"Kook? You okay?" You turn, caressing his head with your hand,

"Yeah, we're gonna ahead though, if that's cool with you? Like, set up the chairs and drink station" he says, now stepped fully inside the doorframe, his hands finding your tshirt covered waist immediately

"If you promise not to look at girls in bikinis?" you raise an eyebrow, cracking into a smile shortly after

And my god did he look irresistible, already in swim shorts with that white muscle shirt that did nothing but show off his ripped body, big arms fully on display and his abs peaking out from the side of the opening

He tsk's , kissing your forhead softly

"You're crazy ma, you know damn well i only care for you" his voice is delicate when he speaks,

"Ew gross get out already" sully yells, even though she's 3 meters away from him

"Grooooosss they boutta start fucking in here" Soojin adds, making a disgusted face for you to see in the mirror

Jungkook laughs, "Sure ladies, take your time" surrendering to the fight against two very protective best friends, he leaves the room

Leaving you to continue your grwm session, 30 mins later, all three off you leave in your bikinis, bags stuffed with change of clothes, hairbrushes and something to keep you distracted

"what the fuck" your boyfriend mutters when he spots you from afar,

Even while laying on a foldable chair, just being able to make out your silhouette in the distance is enough to make him drool, willing to drop to his knees for any taste of you he can get

The dirty thoughts only become louder urges when you stand in front of him, setting your bag down,

As if the tiny, red triangle- tie up bikini doesn't already reveal enough to him, the way you bend down right there, tits almost falling out of their hold, pushed together by the bikini throws him off even more

He's sweating, nervously thinking how he would be able to keep his dick soft for hours if you're gonna walk around like that

"Baby" he says sternly, the look in his eyes letting you know that you're playing with fire, but you don't seem to care, smiling at him when you lay down on the chair right beside his,

"Ahhh, the breeze is so nice" you hum, closing your eyes momentarily to take in the roaring waves and rays of sunlight

Unable to stop himself for devouring you with his eyes, he just allows it

Tracing over your collarbones, the way your waist dips in before the squishy roundness of your hips, how your thicker thighs press up against the chair, making the string bottom appear even smaller on your covered cunt

It cant get worse, right?

Unless you decide on what you're doing right now, letting your beautiful hair out of the bun's restraint, shiny stands flowing messily over your chest area

You notice his obvious staring, looking at his needy eyes and spotting the suspicious looking bulge inside his swimmers,

Jaehyun shoots Jungkook a look as if to say "you cannot be serious" once he also notices the effect your innocent swim attire has on the younger friend

You stand up from the chair abruptly, while looking at Jungkook's dick you noticed how muscular and comfortable his thighs look,

"Baby please" he whispers into your ear, your ass planted down right on his bulge, the tiny string doing nothing to create an extra barrier

His hands move to caress your thighs, his chest pressed up against your back while he's trying his best not to grind you down on him in front of your whole friend group

"Namjoon, you need to cover my back well" Soojin says to her boyfriend when turning around and jungkook is sure he will thank her for this to the end of time, something in his brain lights up,

"Oh shit, i totally forgot about sunscreen. Lets go grab it" his finger nudges your side, a clear clue for you to agree and get up with him,

Why would you ever deny him anyways?

Your friends watch you leave hand in hand, rushing back for... the sunscreen..

"They're gonna fuck aren't they" Sully says, looking over to the rest with an annoyed look,

"Yep" Soojin answers, popping the p at the end,

"Whatever i'm going in" jaehyun announces, dragging sully up with him to push the unsuspecting girl into the water

"Fuck baby this bikini is too sexy, i can't take it" Jungkook says against your skin, immediately attaching himself to your neck the second the door shuts

He's gentle but desperate in his kisses, moving along messily but not putting on too much pressure, kissing his way all along your jawline, down to your neck and collarbones where be begins to nibble,

"So pretty, this body of yours is driving me crazy" his soft moans make your skin react, goosebumps spreading fast while you run your fingers along the muscle of his shoulder

He unties your top in no time, kissing and licking at your nipple while his hand stimulates the other one, groping and tugging on the pink flesh ws gently as he can

"Feels so good gguk" your nails dig into his shoulders, chest arching into his mouth with loud whimpers of pleasure flowing from your lips,

He responds by moaning, biting down on your nipple softly before switching sides, teasing and kissing with so much love

"I love your tits so much, they are perfect so perfect" Jungkook stops, big doe eyes looking up at you with need, one hand moves down to cup your pussy,

"let me eat it please , i wanna taste you so bad baby, please let me eat that sweet little pussy out" the way his desperation becomes evident in his pleas instantly weakens your will to tease him, nodding to him with a small bite to your lip

He wastes no time carrying you to the soft silk of the hotel bed, spreading your legs with his hands and dragging the string down from your hips,

"Mnhmm baby you smell so good" his kisses trail down your abdomen until they halt on the outside of your pussy, moving to your inner thighs instead, his hands working to caress you in the meantime

"Gguk please" you whine, squirming under the soft touch of his hands running down the inside of your thigh,

He smiles, leaning his head down between your thighs, right in front of your glistening cunt,

Thumbing your clit side to side, he takes a second to admire you, back arched just for him

"Cute pussy, all mine"

"Mghmm yes!" your high voice cries out, fingers finding his small locks and engulfing them into you, tugging at them while simultaneously pushing his head further into your neediness

"Just like that" you continue rambling, grinding your heat against his skilled, warm tongue that's working hard to lapp up all your juices

His tongue is tireldessly pushing into your hole, fucking you until you can't help but shake,

"You taste so good pretty"

"Prettiest girl" he whispers, blowing some air on your swollen clit, his cock throbbing inside his swimshorts as much as your soaked entrance

"Want your cock please baby!"

He stops, pressing a kiss to your cunt before crashing his covered lips onto yours, your hands busying with his shorts, pulling his hard on out with a sigh

Then, you turn sideways to kiss his neck, licking over his sweet spots and making him moan until he can't wait anymore, gently lowering your back on the bed and aligning his stiff dick against your entrance

"God so tight" he whines, hands getting lost in the flesh on your hips, you moan from feeling so full,

His bicep flexes while he begins thrusting into you, as needy and hot as it is, he's slow and firm nonethelss, keeping his eye contact with you

"You're beautiful" he smiles, referring to so much more than your tits slapping against each other erotically, than your little cunt drenched in slick or your soft face in the sunlight, he means everything, every little detail on your skin, that mole on your neck, that sound from your lips, the way you touch him, the way you love him

"You feel so so good, so pretty too ggukie" your moans are genuine and long, not hasty or in a rush to release

He does feel himself get close when you begin touching his torso, abs flexing with the little touches and his cock becoming more and more desperate to paint your gummy walls white

Savoring the moment with a passionate kiss, he caresses your hips and listens carefully to your moans,

"Almost there pretty, cum for me" his encouragement drives you up the edge, the, getting pushed over it by his finger drawing small circles on your oversensitive clit

You cum blissfully, coating his cock in your essence while he paints you with his, smiling into ths open mouthed, messy kiss

"Mhm.. i love you" he breathes out, kissing your cheek repeated, his softer cock remaining inside you

"I love.. you too jungkook" you reciprocrate, pressings a tiny kiss to his nose

The romantic moment is disturbed by your phone buzzing,

Soojin: did u find the suncream or did he cream you instead?

Both of you giggle, sending a selfie that shows both of you are probably naked, happy and definitely naked.

── ‧ ୨୧ @luvismenu

[princessbrunette]

Reader visiting pogue!rafe and wearing the tiniest sundress to thank him for taking such a good care of her and for coming to midsummer. She would give him the sloppiest nastiest blowjob because she is so grateful

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

it was one of those really hot days. the type where your clothes stick to you, even the hot breeze serves as no relief and you just wish to be left alone.

it was rafe’s day off from the building site, which he’s grateful for — as he’s not sure he’d be able to manage under such harsh conditions. the pogue lounges on his beat up couch infront of his shitty tv with a beer, legs spread — the rickety oscillating fan by his side offering no solace from the thick muggy air. just as he starts to find the energy to be irritated with this, there’s a knock at his door. the last thing he needs.

“jesus—what, i can’t have one god-damn day…” he mutters away to himself like a grumpy old man as he storms to the door, swinging it open. lo and behold, there you are in the tiniest, flimsiest sundress holding a crate of beer, looking a little clammy but excited to see him nonetheless.

“hi rafe!” you chime, totally unaffected.

“the hell are you doin’ all the way out here, s’not a nice part of the island, alright—”

“i come bearing gifts. may i come inside?” you ask so sweet and politely, leaving rafe only able to blink at you for a moment before you’re shuffling past him anyway without an answer, humming to yourself. “i know these ones are your favourite. they’re probably a little luke warm by now ‘cos i had to carry them here but if i stick them in the fridge they’ll probably be good to go in another ten minutes or so.” you chat away happily, walking right through to the small fridge on the ground in his kitchen, absentmindedly bending all the way over to shove the crate inside, giving rafe a real show of the delicate panties beneath your dress.

“really you — you walked all the way here for some beers, alright— okay.” he shakes his head in exasperation, turning and flopping back down onto the couch, closing his eyes for a moment at the unbearable heat. suddenly, you were right there.

“not just that.” your voice is softer now, closer. he can feel your breath on his face and it’s cold somehow— like you’d been sucking on an ice pop before coming in. the feeling isn’t unwelcome. his eyes flutter open, and it’s like someone had turned a switch inside of you because suddenly you’re all hungry eyes, wet mouth, hands that fidget for him.

“…no?” he drawls lazily, barely making an effort to shove an eyebrow up in questioning.

“wanted to thank you specially. for looking after me so well after midsummers. you’re a really good guy, rafe.” you’re so sweet it’s sickly and rafe shakes his head, averting his gaze with a lick of the lips and an eye roll.

“look i was just doing what anyone would have done alright — no need to make it a whole thing—”

“please… can i just show you how grateful i am? i’ve been practicing.” you practically groan, hands clenching into the fabric of his shirt.

rafe is starting to realise he has a real problem with saying no and standing by that— because soon he’s got you between his legs, drool leaking down onto his couch from the sloppy way you mouth at his cock, making out with the tip and taking breaks to ease him into your throat until there are tears on your cheeks. you seem as happy as anyone could be, little pleased moans and mewls leaving you periodically.

“the hell did you mean you’ve been practicing?” rafe asks between winces, a sharp pain in his abdomen at the thought of you getting in your blowjob rehearsals with another guy. he didn’t like that, and more importantly he didn’t like that he felt that way.

you reply to him, but it’s all garbled and spitty because his dick’s jammed half way down your throat so he pulls you off by the jaw, furrowing his brows curiously urging you to repeat yourself. you swallow, blinking wide wet eyes up at him.

“dildo.” you hum, before pushing his hand off and getting back to work. rafe relaxes back into the couch with an amused scoff.

“shit. your parents have got no clue, huh? no clue that they’ve got such a dirty little girl.” he spreads his legs a little wider, resting a hand on the back of your head.

you pull your mouth off to pull his cock to stand upright to access his balls, sucking and massaging them. “m’your dirty little girl too.” you respond in a shyer tone, almost like you were asking for permission. rafe blinks at you in zoned out analysis, wondering just what your father wasn’t providing you in order to make everything that came out of your mouth so wrong and freudian. rafe was just some construction working pogue — that’s how he saw it anyway. what it was about him that made you latch onto him so tightly and rely on him of all people for emotional validation and nurture was beyond him. you must’ve been a total masochist.

as you continue sucking he realises he didn’t so much mind the comment. everyone was ‘little’ to him at such a height so he’d let you have it.

“uh-huh. that right?” he entertains it, repositioning your mouth over his tip forcefully and feeding it back down your throat. “gonna let me in that throat now? huh? lemme cum baby? thought you were grateful. show me how thankful you are that i was nice to you, c’mon.” he pants, feet planted to the floor now as he lifts his hips — impatient. each little wet gag fuels him, and he chuckles breathlessly at the way you squeeze your eyes and fists closed to endure his manhandling.

“yeah not — not being very nice now am i? nah… s’what you get for messing with us nasty pogues. savages, baby.” he’s actively teasing you, making fun of the kook rhetoric as he pushes himself toward release. he knows those aren’t your views, but it’s satisfying to poke fun at you all the same.

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ smut, alcohol. lactation (heavily requested because I guess we're all fiends now?), daddy, praise kink. request(s): Mama makes a friend

"And you didn't find him?"

You shake your head. "Not until I almost ran into him on the sidewalk. I looked everywhere."

“Wow.” Cami’s eyes are wide, fixated on your story, fine stemmed champagne glass delicately balanced in her fingers. It’s empty again, like yours, and when the server comes by, you ask them for another round.

That’s the point of bottomless, right?

“You’re brave.” She quips, scooping up a bite of her eggs. “Raising a baby on your own.”

“You’re sweet.” She is. You really like Camille. She was the one who reached out a few weeks ago, when Simon and Kyle got in, and has been trying to lure you out of the house since.

So, when Kyle called Simon on Friday night and suggested he and Orion come over to watch football, Cami texted ten minutes later.

> Bottomless mimosas at brunch on Sunday? Or we could sit around and watch football for two hours. Exciting.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed… just being you. You outside of being Orion’s mother, you outside of navigating your relationship with Simon. Spending time outside of your flat without worrying about feeding or nappies or sanitizing bottles and endlessly cleaning up. Simon took a lot of the pressure off, assumed most of the workload now, but it was still hard to untangle yourself from motherhood.

Not to mention, leaving Orion for even a few hours was stressful. Simon had to nearly force you out the door this morning, over the sound of the baby’s screams. The separation had your heat beating in your ears, stomach turbulent with anxiety, only fading slowly with time as you finished one mimosa and moved to the next.

“So you’re coming to dinner right?” You blink, rapidly trying to reconcile her question with reality. Your head is a little fuzzy, limbs a little floaty, and you’re sure if you stood up right now, you’d probably be gripping the table for support with your wonky balance.

Finally, you catch up. “Right, dinner. Next weekend.” She nods.

“Uh huh…” She squeaks with a laugh. There's nothing comedic about her words, but with four mimosas in you both, everything seems a little funny. "At ours. Johnny is coming, an' their captain."

"And you're cooking?" She makes a sour face, laughing again.

"I'm gonna try."

Kyle looms at your side when Simon opens the door. He's alone, no baby in his arms, and the flat is surprisingly quiet. The smile that tips your lips upwards is uncontrollable, and you giggle as he raises an eyebrow. "Thanks Kyle." They give each other a nod, a big hand settling at your waist, guiding you inside.

The door clicks closed. You drift listlessly into him, nose at his chest, and breathe deep. He chuckles. "Hey, mama." Your lower belly flutters, rubber band twisting tight until it nearly snaps-

"Hi daddy."

Simon steers you into the bedroom with a palm on your hip, keeping you upright when you tip to the side, the dynamic of your balance hopelessly thrown askew. "Baby?"

"Went down about an hour ago without fuss." He smoothes his hands over your shoulders and down, fingers coming to rest at the top of your dress's square neckline, too full tits tied up with a bow. "How're you feelin'?"

"A little buzzed." Avid desire enflames your skin, tracing a path from the tightening of your nipples down to where your clit throbs, panties already soaked for him.

"Want to take this off?"

"Yes," you hiccup, "please." He raises an eyebrow.

"Maybe you should have some water-"

"No, no." You latch onto his wrist and pull, though all it does is bring you closer, like being on the losing end of tug-o-war, but he holds you steady, close, like always. There's orange nectar and pear spritzed prosecco on your tongue, and you press closer, voracious want crawling up your spine, overtaking your movements. The alcohol makes you bold, a trigger you've been waiting for since he's come home. One you've not been able to pull. He's curved over you, and you flex onto your tiptoes to lay your forehead against his. "P-please... take it off."

Your dress disappears quickly, leaving you standing in front of him in a pair of pale blue panties, and a bra from before you pregnant, one you tried to cram yourself into and mostly failed. Your breasts spill over the top, sore and aching since Orion hasn't fed for hours, Simon's nose skimming down your neck as he unlatches the clasp in the back. You whimper when they fall free. "Poor thing." He coos, with both in his hands, thumbs tickling over your nipples, and walks you backwards to the bed, knees hinging when you hit the corner of the mattress, body and soul turning to liquid as he lays you on your back. His eyes are dark, deep wells of longing, hungrily sweeping over the length of your body before he succumbs with a long kiss, one that drifts down, across your collarbone and to your breast, teasing around your nipple, tugging your panties to the side at the same time.

"Simon," you squirm, chasing him, desperate against his slow pace, babbling pleas filling the air. "Daddy-"

"Shhh. Easy, mama." You're soaked, can feel the heaviness of it slicked on your thighs, dewy drops damp in your curls. He swipes, circling your clit, sliding down to your hole and back up, exploring, ruining, mouth closing around your nipple as he pushes a finger deep, groaning into your flesh.

"Oh my god, oh, fuck-" you gasp. It's foreign, feeling a piece of him back inside you after so long, the breadth of his finger more than you were expecting, slowly working you open until there are two. Your head spins, delirious yet singularly focused, overwhelmed by the combination of him sucking at you and stroking inside you. It's taboo, this affliction, this satisfaction of him pulling your milk free, soothing the ache of your fullness, but you don't have a mind to care. Never have. The relief is overwhelming, tight coils building your muscles, and he dribbles some across your chest as he moves to the next, ministrations expert. You spill into his mouth, warmth dripping from the corners of his lips, his free hand squeezing, trying to milk every last drop free.

"Can't get over how good you taste, honey." You tuck your fingers into the waistline of his jeans, trying to pull him out, fumbling with his button, his zipper, until he dwarfs your hand with his, pressing your palm against the heavy hardness of his cock. "Need you to be sober for it," he murmurs gently, "want you to remember, when you take it, when I fill you up again." You gulp, your body screams. You want it now, want him inside you, but instinctively know he won't budge. He rears back, tapping your calf, "heels on the edge of the bed, mama," and sucks in a breath as he parts your knees. "Ruined your panties, sweet girl. Lift up for me." They disappear, tossed away into a dark corner of the room, and he gets to his knees. You almost close yours, want to close yours, suddenly self conscious knowing he's at eye level, seeing everything, but he chases the thought from your mind when his mouth finds your clit.

"Oh." It's the only word your brain will produce, buried beneath high pitched moans. He eats like he's starved, two fingers finding their place again, tongue flicking against your bud with a near violent pace.

"Sweet everywhere, aren't you?" He kisses the words into your cunt, vibrations of the gravel in his voice only kicking you higher, closer to the peak. "So sweet for daddy." You whine, always a little shamed by it, that word, even when you say it yourself. "My perfect girl. Y'gonna cum for me? Clench this little pussy around my fingers?" Pleasure ripples, tightens your muscles until they burn, and he shoves you into it, drags you beneath the rolling waves of an orgasm, hips chasing his tongue, his teeth thighs closing around his head, trapping him, holding him tight.

That's what you do. You hold him tight. Too tight. Hold him like it will keep him here. Keep you from losing him.

He tucks you close after, whispering something in your ear, unintelligible in your dizzied state, limp like a doll. You go easily, abated, as he settles you in beneath the blankets, waking you gently some time later for naproxen and water. You'll have to pump before Orion feeds again, and dump it, but in this moment, the only thing that matter is his chest warm at your back, his fingers tracing circles into your skin. "Sleep, mama."

[auroralwriting]

jealousy, jealousy

bucky barnes x avenger!reader (no use of y/n)

bucky hates when his girl has to flirt with the enemy

word count: 1.5k | warnings: none

The whole idea of it was absolutely, utterly stupid.

Zemo was obsessed with you, that much was obvious when he couldn't leave your name out of his mouth during the whole Sokovia Accords issue. Now, he was up to no good once more after escaping prison, leaving the Avengers no choice but to find out what he was up to.

The only problem? He refused to speak. Well, he refused to speak unless it was with you.

Bucky felt rage creep up his whole body when Steve explained what you had to do. You had to actually pretend to be interested in every single word Zemo said, meaning even if he flirted, you had to just take it. Apparently, this genius idea was Tony's, and the rest of the team had agreed to it, meaning Bucky's opinion was next to worthless, especially when you already agreed.

He trusted you with every ounce of his being, and he knew you wouldn't do it if you couldn't handle it, but he hate the fact that Zemo was probably going to flirt your ear off. You were Bucky's girl, his doll, his special girl, his everything, not Zemo's.

Nonetheless, Bucly had to hold his tongue and silently nod as Steve explained.

"What're you thinking, Buck?" Steve asked, noticing Bucky's silent deminor.

"I'm thinking about how many ways I could murder Zemo," Bucky commented, eyes darkening.

Steve sighed, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Bucky, she said she could do this."

"It's not her I don't trust, Steve. Imagine your girl getting hit on and you couldn't do jack shit to stop it. How would you feel then?" Bucky seethed, taking a deep breath in. "Sorry, that was hostile."

With a shake of his head, Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "I understand, Bucky. But we have to get to the bottom of Zemo's plan, and he won't talk unless its to her."

The whole team sat in silence, now gathered in the meeting room. The only noise was the whirl of the fan above their heads as they watched the live footage of you standing in front of Zemo's cell.

"Zemo," You said, crossing your arms. "Being stubborn as always, I hear."

A crooked smile formed on the man's face as he leaned his head on the bars, as close to you as he could get. "Darling, I just did not wish to speak to such insolent people such as the Avengers," Zemo scowled as he spoke. "But a dove as sweet as you? How could I pass?"

Bucky felt his fists clench tightly as he watched the interaction. God, he just wanted to deck this guy straight in the nose. Ever since the Sokovian first went on the run, he always seemed to make some time mid-battle to try and make some small talk with you. It annoyed not only Bucky, but everyone. No one talks that much during a fight. However, now that he was captured, it was the perfect time to use his infatuation of you to the team's advantage.

"Tell me, what do you have planned with those," You paused, grabbing your file and flipping through the loose pages, "Ah, 'weapons of double mass extinction' as you so delicately put it."

Zemo laughed, "Extinction is not my end goal if that is what you are asking my dove."

"It wasn't," You added as Zemo continued.

"However, I am just so excited to reveal what they will be used for." He smiled. Your brow shot up, waiting for his answer. "But seeing it will be the best reveal of all."

Sam sighed, watching this all carry on from where the team was still sat. "He's just gonna play games with her."

"She's smarter than you'd think, give her a chance." Natasha said, "I'd know, I trained her."

Tony stood up, "I don't like this, I'm ending it."

Bucky held up his hand, nodding. "For once, I gotta agree with Stark. I want my girl out of his sight."

Quickly, Steve stood up, "This is our only chance to find out what Zemo has planned. He won't lay a finger on her. Is it uncomfortable? Of course it is, none of us enjoy watching him flirt with her, but it'll work." Tony sat down as Bucky grumbled, all eyes falling back to the screen that showed you now closer to Zemo's bars.

"Would your wife really enjoy knowing you're flirting with me?" You slightly taunted, wanting to push his buttons.

"My wife is dead, but you already know of this." Zemo replied.

With a knowing nod, you pursed your lips, "She was Sokovian too, yeah?"

"We were all from Sokovia, my wife and son, as well as myself." Zemo answered.

"Born and raised?" You continued. Zemo gave a nod as you thought for a moment with a hum, "Were you there when Ultron attacked?"

Zemo nodded, "Yes. That is when my family was murdered."

"I'm sorry," You honestly replied. "Does it still bother you? Not your dead family, but the Sokovia thing. You know, the floating?"

A quick glance of the situation, and it would've looked like you were now just chatting with the enemy, but you held down a smirk as Zemo replied. "Of course I am. That was my home."

"New York could be your home now," You offered. "Turn yourself in and we can get you transferred here."

Zemo laughed, "I would not wish to be here after what will happen."

Boom. You looked up to the camera, "You all got that?" You asked the camera, knowing your team was watching. You grabbed your file, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Zemo. This was very informative." You grabbed your comm and pushed it down, "Stand-by. Send Stark-Bots to check perimeters of the state. Zemo's planning on making us levitate like Sokovia."

Face pale, Zemo stood up, yelling incoherent words that fell upon your deaf ears as you left the room. Bucky, who had seen it all, was already waiting for you outside. He was quick to grab you and hold you tight to his chest.

"I'm okay, Buck," You smiled, voice muffled from your face being pushed against his strong body.

Bucky shook his head, "I know, I just don't want you near that freak again."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words as you pulled away enough to give him a kiss. "You jealous of Zemo?"

"You played into it," Bucky muttered.

"It was all fake, love." You replied. "You know I'm your girl."

Bucky couldn't help but smirk, "Damn right you are." He turned to the door that lead to Zemo's cell. "You hear that? She's my damn girl!"

You couldn't help but feel your heart thump at Bucky's words. He was always so damn hot when he was jealous. "C'mon, show your girl how much you love her." You teased, Bucky's eyes falling on you once more. He was quick to grab your waist with his metal arm, pulling you in as his other hand rested on the back of your neck, pushing your face against his as his lips locked with yours, a tight, sloppy kiss ensuing in the middle of the hall.

"I'm never letting you do that again." Bucky muttered, pulling away to speak. His breath was hot on your cheek as he spoke. He pulled you into another wet kiss as a soft ahem came from behind you both.

"This is not a room, but I'm sure your horny asses could find one."

Bucky groaned as he turned around, "Do you have to ruin every moment?" He asked Sam who stood smugly.

He put his hands in the air, "I just wanted to congratulate Nat's best student on her great work. Especially the one where she made her soldier get all jealous"

"Thank you, Sam," You smiled, a light blush on your face.

Bucky took a pen out of his pocket and threw it at Sam, "Get outta here, man!"

"Alright, alright! No need for hostility." Sam defended as he walked away.

As Sam left, you gave a knowing smile at Bucky. "So jealous over my mission, huh?"

Bucky scoffed, feeling embarrassment creep in his chest, "I wasn't jealous."

"I think you were," You argued. "Over Zemo of all peopke."

"Only I can talk to you that way," Bucky said, voice nearly a whine. "You're all mine, not his or anyone else's, and he knows it."

You smiled, giving Bucky a kiss on the cheek, "And that's probably why he loves doing it so much. You know he's got a thing against super soldiers. He's gonna do anything to get under your skin."

"And he chose the worst way to do it," Bucky muttered as you pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

Bucky looked at you with a goofy smile, pulling back. "C'mon, doll. We still got some work to do cleaning up Zemo's mess."

"Someone's feeling better," You teased as you both began to walk. "You'd better show me some more of that jealousy later," You suggested.

"Oh, I will," Bucky smiled. "You bet your fine ass I will."

[spilledartery]

loveless union . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, noble / clan ! au, angst, unrequited love, sex, cheating ( ? ), implied trans kuni, pregnancy – i need to feed my breeding kink, please bare with me. fujoshis, mlm fetishizers, dni. ]

it was an arranged marriage. neither you nor kunikuzushi wanted this, but since your clan was indebted to his clan, your parents had just proposed you to be married to the raiden heir. it was shocking how the heir’s mother, ei, agreed, given how she was the one who casted demise upon your clan.

the wedding ceremony came and went, and so did the past couple of years. kunikuzushi was harsh, he didn’t want this – he was forced to sever his ties with his ( secret ) lover from the kaedehara clan, he was forced to marry someone he never loved; you.

you never loved him, too, but, ever the gentleman you are, you treated him with care and respect. when he was sick, you’d tend to him, you would compliment him, you would never talk bad about him. despite his opposite treatment of you, you understand. neither of you wanted this.

it was easy to fool your families, too. whenever yours and his parents are on the same table, you and kunikuzushi would act the star-crossed lovers, making them believe that you’d learned how to love each other.

the two of you would laugh, stare at each other lovingly, hold each other’s hands, lean closer to whisper something in each other’s ears – even ei couldn’t help but watch fondly; you were taking good care of each other.

“the both of you aren’t getting any younger,” your mother gushed, somehow confident to talk, despite being in the same table of her rival woman. she took a sip of wine, sending you and kunikuzushi knowing looks. “when are you both supposed to bring forth your heirs, hm?”

beside you, kunikuzushi tensed, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. you understand, you always do.

your darling husband masked his true feelings with a seemingly shy smile. “oh,” he said, glancing at you with a soft look. “we... have been trying.”

you saw through those eyes, and you acted along. “my beloved is right, mother.” you took the boy’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “it may take a while, but there will surely be little us’ running around the manor soon enough.”

“we will be expecting,” came the unreadable tone of kunikuzushi’s mother.

the next few months came by, and you and your husband are walking around the festivities. there were stalls, bustling vendors calling for the consumers’ attention. you two played the part of a married couple: you held hands, wrapped your arm around his waist, pressed close to each other – no one suspects a thing.

until you and kunikuzushi saw a certain boy with white hair and a red streak, he was staring at your husband. ah, it seems like they still have their affair going on, and you felt your heart shatter, just for a bit. you look down at kunikuzushi, who was in your arms, but looked longingly at his lover, the one he truly loved.

you let go of him. and he just looked up at you with hidden gratefulness, and rushed towards the kaedehara.

kunikuzushi didn’t return to your shared bed that night.

you understand, truly, you do. it was a good thing you stopped yourself on the brink of falling in love with him. you two may be married, but that didn’t mean you were meant for each other. you understand.

even now as you entered his body, after a week of the festival, of him with the kaedehara, you understand that the pleasure placed upon you is nothing but an obligation, a responsibility. it was to appease your families – to create an heir. even as you held kunikuzushi’s hand delicately as you pushed further into him, you knew that this union isn’t genuine.

you merely placed a kiss on his cheek as he reached his orgasm, and while you emptied inside of him, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear to calm him down after his high. and when he fell asleep without so much as a reply to you, you cleaned him and covered his naked body with the covers. you turned your body away from him, after – you know he wouldn’t be happy if he saw himself against your chest in the morning.

it was into six weeks when he began showing symptoms. kunikuzushi was nauseous, he continuously complained that his stomach was aching, and when you both talked to a trusted mage, they confirmed that you and kunikuzushi are expecting an heir.

you took good care of him. whenever something is aching, his shoulders, his feet, you would wordlessly massage him, you would bring him tea, knowing he loves bitterness; you played the part of being his husband, being a to-be father.

it was two months to his pregnancy that he felt his heart skipping a beat whenever you’re near. kunikuzushi told himself that he’d never feel something for you, he swore not to – but he couldn’t help it, not when you were taking such good care of him despite his attitude towards you. you never complained, never voiced out any discontent nor did you scowl at him when he always sent you a piercing glare.

perhaps, now, as your own family is beginning to grow, he could finally return the treatment you deserved from him, as his spouse.

it was strange when he began snuggling with you when you both went to sleep, when he began kissing your cheek, pecking your lips, smiling at you – it sent a small spark in your heart, but you don’t understand. is this because he’s only pregnant? he does not only crave for strange combinations of food, but also company? well, you still played along. you cared for him.

though it was unfortunate that during this time, you had to leave for mondstadt to attend some meeting – about creating allegiance there and whatnot. it was surprising that kunikuzushi kissed you passionately before you board the ship. you kissed him back just as fiercely, but you know it was merely for show because people are around; they wouldn’t want to see a supposed married couple being cold and distant to each other, especially when the spouse is to leave for many nights.

but what kunikuzushi wasn’t prepared for was the change of your demeanor when you came back. it wasn’t a bad change, but one that slowly broke kunikuzushi’s heart.

he was heavily pregnant, and he wore a robe too big to cover the bump in his belly – the bulge was still visible, but not much. kunikuzushi greeted you with a kiss on your cheek when you came home, asking how was your stay, if it was successful... though you answered these questions diligently, something was amiss.

no longer did you gaze warmly at him, but you became more distracted. you still cared for him, yes – but, now, kunikuzushi thinks it’s merely an obligation, nothing more, nothing less. your touches were more genuine then, now, it lacks those. when he kisses you, it was you who would pull away first and just kiss his forehead before turning away from him.

what had happened?

sometimes, he’d watch you write down on a parchment. it became a normal occurrence now. who were you writing for, he never asked. when you receive letters, he’d watch you smile – that smile that was once directed at him, but now it was more honest, like the reason for it was deeper.

he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, invading your privacy. you were asleep, and he walked to the dresser where you kept all the letters you’d been receiving. kunikuzushi subconsciously placed his hand on his baby bump as he unfolded a paper and read.

ah.

it seems you’d found someone who piqued you interest while you were in mondstadt. the way this person wrote to you was far from being friendly. it was as if...

kunikuzushi wiped a tear that fell from his eye. a couple more flowed through his cheeks, though, and he didn’t care wipe them anymore.

had he been too late love you? was it too late for you to love him?

reminiscing of the times when he treated you harshly, when he talked so bad about you, when he disregarded your opinions, when he rolled his eyes at your compliments, when he felt disgusted whenever you kiss his knuckles... perhaps, he does deserve this, and perhaps you’ve finally found someone you loved outside the marriage, as he had been with his affair with the kaedehara before. he deserves this.

kunikuzushi understands.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited)³ retired simon has nowhere to go, so you offer. { his pov } [ one, two, three]

she’s like a breath of fresh air. bright and cold. a gust so frigid that it sends goosebumps to shroud his skin. like the first fall of snow. was it december now? how long has it been since he’d left? how long has he wandered? adrift like a buoy at sea. but strangely stuck, straying in place. like some sort of ghost. trapped and terrified.

he thinks she’s naive. strange, even. like a child left outside without supervision. prone to being up to no good. she’s insistent in her little fiat car. her hands are covered in a pair of creme wool gloves. and when he looks close enough he notices that they’re fraying at the seam. worn. loved.

she says her name. it’s pretty, her name. it fits. she’s expectant, waiting for him to speak. give her something, anything he’s sure. she seems like a good girl. too good, too much for him, not enough for her. he hardly even knew her. but she wants to know you. she’s being nice. nothing more. simon. that’s what he tells her and it rolls off her tongue faultlessly. “well, we’re not strangers anymore, simon.” is what she says. he finds her amusing.

it’s her eyes. that’s what makes him slide into the passenger seat. they're wide. warm. nervous— despite her being the one to offer him a ride. it’s endearing, if not a bit entertaining. and the cold has already frozen his body. he can hardly feel his feet. but he deserves this. this life that he’s been subjected to.

she’s an anxious thing. her gloved hands drum lightly against the steering wheel. she’s shit at making small talk. and from the reflection of the car window, he can see the way she works her bottom lip into her mouth. he’s tempted to thumb it from within the wet heat. he doesn't.

“could be a killer.” she smiles. her eyes brighten. it’s small but he finds himself forgetting to breathe. in and out. in and out. she smells temptingly like honey and spices, all tangy and sweet. fuck. he holds his breath. “are you?” he doesn't respond. after all the killing. the blood that stains his hands. his skin. won't come off no matter how hard he scrubs. he’s a murderer. yes, i am. she’s too trusting. he wouldn't hurt her. never.

small. is how he would describe the apartment. small but homey. filled with greenery, color, and a tiny christmas tree. it’s tucked away. surrounded by lights at its base. it smells like chocolate, milk to be specific. but her as well. honeyed spices and dried fruits, tangy and sweet. the radio that he hears plays quietly. silent night in instrumental. his heart tightens in his chest.

he’s not sure how he ended up here. surrounded by her four walls. she suggests sweetly. eyes wide and sad at his destination. he declines. she isn't the type to take no for an answer. her brows are knitted. hands tightening. he’s enamored. he shouldn't stay. he should tuck and roll out the car while he has the chance. run. like he’s used to doing. too late the two pull in. she’s pleased with herself. he grins faintly beneath his mask. cute.

the couch is a bed. it pulls out into one anyway. she busies herself. shuffling to get sheets and a comforter. it’s a faded baby blue, printed with delicate flowers. and she looks proud. smiling at the cozy couch. her lips are coated in a sheen. from the lip balm she’d put on a second ago. and he adverts his eyes when she looks toward him. couldn't meet those wide eyes. sweet and nervous. he stares instead at the makeshift bed. she speaks. grins awkwardly.

“thank you.” he means it. it’s stiff. his voice hoarse from the cold but, he means it— no matter how gruff it comes out. her hands. no longer swathed by wool gloves, slide down denim-clad thighs. lips press. and her head nods. she says his name again, but scurries before he can reply, and maybe it’s for the best. he can barely speak.

click.

he shouldn't. but he finds himself amused. good girl. he was still a stranger after all. a strange man she has willingly invited into her home. he wondered briefly if she was right in the head. right to slow for him. to smile at him. she couldn't be. unsure. he can’t get comfortable. just lays there and listens to her faint voice. walls thin. voice muffled. but words clear. “die tonight.”— “…love you.” he ponders.

he doesn't remember a ring. friend? mom? boyfriend? his heart aches. he doesn't know her. he has no right to feel anything. she was nice, too good. he was the opposite, with nowhere to go. nothing to offer. why was he here? he should leave. but sleep weighs heavy on his eyes. bing crosby lulls him to sleep. he’d be gone before she woke.

i've always thought simon to have very choppy thoughts. and always being very in his head. very observant. so yeah. listened to christmas music making this! hehehe

[museandwords]

we don't gotta be in love (bucky barnes)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, dubcon (reader is a bartering chip), arranged marriage, blood, implied age difference, virginity loss, wedding night, rough sex, Bucky is an animal, reader is Tony Stark’s daughter, alludes to Bucky beings powerful man of ambiguous design, alternate universe, breeding kink, big dick kink, Bucky is in love with her but she hates him, it’s not a fairy tale, it’s primal and it’s kind of messy.

Author’s note: this is just….pure filth, send me to jail, don’t tell my therapist.

continuation is right here

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

—

You, sweet, angelic, siren-like you. All wrapped up in a delicate lacy bra, a white ribbon in your hair, and your legs spread wide enough for Bucky to slot in between them.

Your glistening pussy was on full-display, tight and pink and soaked. Virginal and leaking slick as you lay there. You’re nervous, though you keep a brave face on as you present.

Your fiery eyes look up to meet his. You’re nervous and you’re scared. He's so big. His thick shaft dwarfs your folds as he rubs it along your seam.

You squirm, not sure what else to do. "Bucky…It's too big, it's not going to fit…" You whine at your new husband softly.

Bucky's gaze lingers on your delicate form, taking in the sight of his precious little Omega before him. He teases the tip of his thick member along your slick folds again and again, reveling in the way you quiver at the contact.

Your innocence and vulnerability only serve to stoke the primal desire within him. His intense blue eyes darken with hunger, your sweet scent of arousal enveloping him.

His large hand grips your chin firmly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze with eyes filled with determination.

"Shh, princess. Trust me," he growls softly, his voice a gravelly reassurance as his other hand snakes between your thighs, spreading your lips further to accommodate his size.

"You can take it, baby girl. You were made for me," he murmurs, the authoritative tone in his voice leaving no room for argument as he lines himself up with your entrance.

With a swift thrust, he enters you, the stretch causing you to gasp and tense against him. Bucky's restraint slips slightly at the sensation of your tight warmth surrounding him, but he reigns himself in, not wanting to overwhelm you. He holds still, allowing you to adjust to his size, his own need for you almost unbearable.

"See, you can take it," He reassures you, his hand moving up to cup your cheek tenderly as he begins to move, setting a steady pace that promises to fill you completely. He watches your reactions closely, his own control a thin veneer over his desire to claim you completely.

And just like that, Bucky made you his.

You should be afraid of this Alpha, this beast of a man who claims your virginity like he's entitled to it.

You want to hate him.

But how can you?

Your whole world is zoned in completely to where he's breaching you. He's so thick, his length seems to never end, and your back arches as you’re forced to take all of him.

It's like you can feel him in your stomach. You let out a high pitched whimper, and your thighs tighten around his waist.

As your eyes screw shut and you grip on his bicep for purchase.

Your virgin blood coats Bucky's cock, and it stains the white veil you still had on as he begins to fuck into you with a steady pace.

"I—…Bucky, I can't breathe…." You gasp, so genuine, soft and whimpery.

With your desperate plea for air, your voice tinged with a mix of fear and desire, Bucky's eyes bore into you, a glint of possessiveness shining through.

"You belong to me now, little wife," He growled, his voice husky and commanding, a mix of roughness and control.

Feeling your innocence and resistance only fueled Bucky's primal desires. He relished in the challenge, the conquest of your body like a prize waiting to be won.

As Bucky's relentless thrusting claimed you, your gasps, so pure and vulnerable, only served to fuel his aggression.

Bucky's grip tightened, his strength overpowering as he took what he wanted, his hips moving with a fierce determination. The room was consumed by the intoxicating scent of your arousal, mixing and mingling as your bodies became one.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you’re forced to take all of it again and again, the feeling of being so full is an adjustment, you hated how quickly you were coming to relish in it.

His arms come up to hook beneath the crease of your thighs and he begins to fold your body into a more submissive position. Your body curls and your eyes fly open, your glassy gaze meeting stormy blue as you can't help but let out a whiney moan from the sensation. The sight of you, vulnerable and yielding, stirs something within him, a hellish urge to devour, claim, push you to your limits as he delves deeper inside your velvety warmth.

You’re quick to realize whether you like it or not; you belong to him, for better or for worse. You go from a Stark girl to a Barnes wife. Tony Stark gave you to this beast of a man. And he takes it. Bucky takes all you have and consumes you.

Like an animal fucking for purpose rather than pleasure.

Your hand flies to the creaking mattress as you grip the sheets, your breasts bounce with each thrust and you begin to let out harsh pants that match each thrust in.

"Bucky…" You whine through gritted teeth as the pain begins to subside and the friction from the drag of his cock inside begins to feel good.

Bucky growls low in his throat as he moves within your eager, wet heat. The sound of your mingled pleasure filling the dimly lit room. His powerful thrusts are relentless. The scent of your arousal, sweet and heady, fills the space around you, driving Bucky wild with desire.

You want to hate this man. You want to hate him with all that you are because you were forced to marry him, to be his wife.

But the way he fucks into you has you confused, your brain more focused on how this Alpha takes your body so well, so dominantly and rough that it makes your pussy throb and your heart swell. It’s so ridiculous, so fucked up in your mind you can’t seem to bridge the gap.

With one particular thrust, Bucky's tip kisses your cervix, and you let out an involuntary scream from the sensation. Your manicured nails dig into the sheets, nearly shredding them as he picks up the intensity and drills harder into you.

You take it, you moan and you whine and you whimper and your tight warmth sucks his cock in, hungry for it now that you have it.

You’re overwhelmed from all the sensations, the way he's biting and sucking and licking your flesh, the way his pubic bone grinds against your clit and the way his cock stuffs you so perfectly that he rubs against your g-spot and cervix every time.

Tears begin to form in your eyes, a sign of your increased pleasure as your mouth falls open, Bucky forcing moans from your lips with each thrust in.

You know the purpose of this, you know what his instincts are telling him to do.

Reproduce. Claim. Mate.

"You're…trying….to get me pregnant…." You gasp out in realization as Bucky's hips slam into yours. You mewl, your body blossoming for him as he continues to drill into your tight wet heat.

Feeling you tighten around him, reacting to his every thrust, sent a dark thrill through him. It was as if something wild and feral prowled just beneath the surface of his skin, urging him to give in to his most basic alpha instincts.

He didn't speak, but his actions painted his intentions vividly.

You should fight, you should kick and punch and try to get this man off of you because you do not want his babies.

But your primal, baser brain won't allow you.

Because it's thriving off the Alpha presence, the possibility of pleasing your mate is more important.

The knot at the base of his cock began to swell, a signal of his impending release. As Bucky pushes his knot inside, your whole body tenses, and you begin to tremble as your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him. With a guttural growl, Bucky's body tensed, his hips stilling as he spilled his essence deep inside of you, each pulse of his release a sick twisted mark of ownership. You could feel the warmth spreading within you.

You let out a muted scream, and suddenly you’re shattering all over his cock.

Slick pools as you reach your climax, your walls constricting rhythmically around him as you grind your hips down — and involuntary action of pleasure as you ride it out. You can feel Bucky twitching inside of you, the swell of his knot keeping you locked together to ensure that they are in optimal condition to conceive, his need to give you a baby overriding any other thought in his mind.

You pant, your body is sweaty and weak as you finally begin to come down to earth.

You look at your Alpha, glowing eyes in the dark of night as you try to read him.

"Are you all calm now?" You ask, in a bratty tone.

Looking down at you, Bucky observed you with a mixture of possessiveness and satisfaction. He likes the challenge in your gaze.

Despite your bratty demeanor, Bucky found himself oddly pleased by your feistiness, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, my little wife, all calm now," Bucky drawled, his gravelly voice tinged with satisfaction.

[jezebelblues]

la vie en rose | h.s

summary: lovey sunday morning in bed that ends with him buried inside her.

cw: smut18+ - penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, smidge of daddy kink, fluff, fem!reader, unedited. tried to be grammatically correct by using upper case if that makes u go wild

word count: approx 2.2k

| ladies forgive me this is like my 2nd time writing smut! building the skill brick by brick fr. mwah :*

The morning light slipped through the curtains in soft streams, casting a gentle warmth over the room. The air was still, the kind of quiet that only existed in muted peace with a lover, when the world outside felt distant and time seemed to stretch endlessly. Harry lay on his back, his arm lazily draped around YN’s waist, nestled comfortably into his side like a bear seeking habitat for hibernation. His skin was warm and solid against her, a tingling heat that could have her melt in him.

She stirred first, not fully awake but aware of the weight of his arm holding her. The familiar scent of him - something faintly earthy and sweet - wrapped around her like a second blanket, and for a long moment, she didn’t want to move. His curls smelt like his lavender bergamot shampoo, locks disheveled from letting his hair dry in his sleep. The simplicity of waking up next to him was entrancing, before the world rushed in with all its noise.

He shifted beside her, his nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck, curls tickling her skin. He mumbled something incoherent, half-awake, and then murmured, “Morning, love.” His voice was low and raspy from sleep, the sound of it sending a current through her.

Her eyes fluttered open, but just barely. She didn’t need to see him to know the expression on his face - the soft, lazy smile that always greeted her in the mornings, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, even when he was half asleep. His fingers trailed absentmindedly along her side, tracing little patterns that sent shivers up her spine. The scent of home and freshly washed sheets stuck to her skin like melted sugar, and Harry swore she was hypnotizing.

“Could stay like this all day.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, then her cheek, his lips lingering just enough to make her want more. There was something about the way he held her, like she was the most precious thing in the world, and she could feel that tenderness in every touch, every kiss. His fingers grazed her arm, barely there, as if he was savoring every inch of her skin.

She smiled sleepily, her voice still thick with the dreams that lingered faintly in the back of her head. “You say that every morning.”

“Mean it every time.” Harry hums, his tone playful but full of affection. He shifted slightly, pulling her closer, as if he needed to feel her heart beat against his. There was a raw intimacy in the way he held her, not just the physical closeness, but the quiet comfort of knowing that this was where he belonged.

For a while, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other, neither of them willing to break the spell of the morning. Outside, the world moved on without them, but in here, time seemed to pause. Her head rested on his chest, rising and falling with his breath, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the soft fabric of his t-shirt. She felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm, a sound more comforting than any lullaby.

His gaze lingered on her face, his eyes tracing every detail, like he was memorizing the way she looked in the morning light. Her features were soft from sleep, cheeks flush and eyes a bit puffy. In that moment he wished he had the talent to paint, encapsulating her beauty in delicate watercolors. “Y’look so pretty when you sleep,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like an angel.”

She opened one eye, catching the adoring smile on his face, that lopsided grin he always gave her when he was in one of his affectionate moods. “You’re such a sap, Styles.” YN teased, though her voice held no real bite.

His smile widened, the dimples in his cheeks deepening as he laughed softly. “Maybe. But you love it.”

She tried to roll her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. There was something about him, the way he could make her feel completely at ease, completely loved, that always got to her. She parted her lips to speak, but in one fluid motion, Harry rolled her onto him, making her squeal in surprise. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her against him as he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. His fingers traced along the curve of her waist from underneath his shirt that hung loosely around her frame, his eyes softening. They basked in the sounds of their breathing, the girl rising and falling atop him from every breath he took. He trailed his hand upward, combing his fingers through her hair. "She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning against the balcony railing, holding the universe together." He smiled gently, his voice airy and dipped in honey.

Her giggle was breathy and melodic as her fingers reached for his cheek, pinching it ever so slightly with a delicate shake. The two had a thing for randomly quoting literature, and she couldn’t believe he beat her to it this Sunday morning. An excerpt that made her cheeks tinge a shade of pink, the love he felt toward her dripping from the borrowed words. “Shut up.” She smiled, poking his nose.

His expression didn’t change as he adjusted his large hands back under her shirt, brushing up her back, the pad of his index right along her spine. His heart fluttered with the sight upon him, every inch of her skin the tips of his fingers touched belonging to him. His movement slowed to a halt at the top of her waist, gently guiding her down to let his lips meet hers.

The kiss was slow, lingering, a quiet promise in the way his lips moved against hers. His hands continued their exploration over the familiar land as he deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her. When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, his breath cool on her skin.

His lips grazed her neck, the softest of kisses, but enough to send a shiver through her body. He mingled there, his exhales ticking her skin, goosebumps cascading down her body, as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear - making her sigh softly. The weight of her body straddling his felt comforting, grounding, but there was something electric in the way his hands moved, slow and teasing.

Her own fingers responded instinctively, running her fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tautness of the muscles under her touch. She could sense his heartbeat quickening, matching the growing pulse she felt in her core. She let her hand roam across his torso, her fingertips tracing the lines of his chest and abdomen, delighting in the way he shivered slightly under her touch.

Harry's breath hitched as her fingers brushed lower, and he let out a soft groan, pulling her down beside him. He gripped her waist, her leg tightly looping around his as their lips met again.

Everything about the moment felt slow, deliberate - like they had all the time in the world, yet neither of them wanted to wait any longer. His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, over the sensitive skin just below her ear again. His voice, soft and hoarse, whispered against her, "Turn around.” The sheets rustled with her compliance, the arm that lied beneath her head bending as he placed a light hand around her throat.

YN’s breath hitched, a heat pooling her inner thighs and drenching her sunshine yellow panties. His lips brushed against the crook of her neck, bunching the hem of her shirt up a bit as he pulled her underwear down to her knees. His sigh was heavy, the length of his cock slapping against the small of her back as he freed himself. He mumbled something under his breath, lips skimming along the space where her shoulder and neck met, his hand finding itself between her legs, pulling her thigh upward and hooking the bend of his elbow around her knee. He shifts his hips to line himself with her cunt, YN reaching down to keep him in place. A groan tumbles from his lips as he pushes past her wet folds, filling her completely. She gasps at the feeling of his cock stretching her, Harry tugging the hand on her neck roughly to force her between his head and shoulders, tightening his grip ever so slightly while he keeps his thrusts at a tauntingly slow pace. “Such a good girl.” He murmured absentmindedly, too lost in the pleasure of her walls enveloping him completely.

Her eyes fluttered shut, soft moans emitting from her as he moves his hips quicker. Her arousal doused his cock, wetting her inner thighs - allowing for the noise of wet skin slapping against one another to reverberate off the white walls of their bedroom. She turns her head, peppering sloppy kisses along his jaw as she reaches her arm back to tangle her fingers in his curls.

All their noises combined made a symphony of pleasure, the coil in YN’s core tightening with every push of his hips. Harry’s breath came and went in short gasps, a gleam of sweat slicking his skin. The grip that held her leg up slipped inward and past where he pounded into her, fingers stretching up to the spot where the head of his cock bulged the space beneath her bellybutton from inside, a moan escaping him at the feeling of it. “Daddy-“ She whimpered, tightening around his length while his chin dipped slightly, teeth sinking into the fleshier part of her shoulder. Her head pulled back further into him, his bite light enough to not break her skin, but harsh enough to leave an indent.

He removes his touch from her belly, slapping the bottom of her thigh harshly before holding it up again. She was unable to form anything coherent, her face becoming a shade of red from how much air she lost from her moans. He hummed, low and airy, “Y’pussy is so tight for daddy.”

He selfishly pushed deeper into her, not wanting any void of space left inside of her. He could feel her walls flutter around him, her back barely arching from his chest behind her. He lightened the grip on her throat, holding onto her chin as he forced her to look at him, her lips pouted from his grasp. “Baby-“ He groaned, eyes burrowing into hers. “Fuck- y’gonna come, hm?” He tried to coo through his grunts, his girl’s eyebrows in a furrow from the knot in her belly. She nodded into his hand, eyes wide in desperation. He pulled her chin upward a bit more, his nose brushing against her top lip as he gazed at her through his eyelashes. “Look at me, bunny, don’t move.”

She whimpered, her bum and thighs a flush of pink from the force of his thrusts. YN kept her eyes open, even if they fell half-lidded - knowing Harry would stop if she didn’t listen.

Her legs threatened to close from the pleasure, but Harry forced them to open wider - intentionally teetering her breaking point with a lazy smile spread across his lips. His eyes never left hers, watching every twist and scrunch of ecstasy dance upon her features. Her moans and whimpers were messy, his curls between her fingers tight as she jerked his head back. YN forced her eyes wide, lips parted and unable to close as her release built intensely. His smile turned into a smirk, gazing down at her pretty face through a half-lidded gaze. His cock twitched as she tightened around him once more, her orgasm evident in her expression as she came greedily over his length. He rode out her high, forehead falling against hers while guttural groans made his chest vibrate. His thrusts were sloppy and quick, a small whimper falling from his lips as he shot white ribbons of come inside her.

A beat of heavy synchronized heartbeats and rapid breaths befall them, Harry gently pulling her leg down to finally rest - his length slipping out, nestled between her thighs. She lets out a light sigh as the brunette draped his arm over the curve of her waist, pulling her closer as he presses delicate kisses against her temple.

YN hummed, eyes fluttering to a close as the rhythm of her boyfriend’s chest rising and falling abutting against her - lulled her to the brink of slumber. “For nothing, not the sun, not the rain-” She paused, voice raspy from her previous moans and the sleep that loomed over her. If she didn’t love this book so much, she would’ve forgotten the excerpt entirely. “not even the brightest star in the darkest sky, could begin to compare to the wonder of you.”

Harry was rested into the crook of her neck, and she could feel the way his lips spread into a smile. His thumbs rubbed circles along her hip bone, his breathing slowing. He let out an airy giggle before he parted his rosy lips, "I shoot hot bolts into you. I make your ovaries incandescent."

They both rippled with easy laughter, feeling his belly flutter against her back with every giggle. The sun rose higher as the morning continued to pass by them, birds chirping and cars rolling down their street. They lay intertwined, bodies melting into each other and moulding into one being, each breath in perfect harmony. And in that moment they both could swear this is what heaven must feel like.

[furuu]

your writings are so incredibly warm and cozy i love you😭 can i please request a drabble with king of curses sukuna around his pregnat darling? like he doesn't know how to act! each uncareful word can make her upset and her behavior changed so weirdly and she seems so fragile now!

𐔌 . ⋮ Sukuna was the King of Curses, feared and revered for his ruthlessness, his might, his absolute power. But faced with his you, a strange sensation took hold of him—something that almost felt like nervousness.

He was out of his element, to say the least.

You were still you, but… different. Your moods swung wildly, and the smallest slip of his tongue could send you into tears or a heated lecture. And, on top of it all, you seemed so delicate, like even the most careful embrace might be too much.

Today was no different.

He’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye, taking in how your hand rested on your belly, the way your eyes softened as you absently rubbed small circles. His heart unexpectedly lurched at the sight—an emotion he’d long since abandoned, reserved only for you, and now… the child.

“Do you want anything?” he asked carefully, a touch hesitant. It was strange for him to be asking anyone what they wanted rather than simply deciding, but he didn’t want to risk accidentally upsetting you.

You looked up, a slow smile gracing your face. “I think I’m fine.”

He huffed, almost relieved, crossing his arms as he tried to keep his own voice steady. “Good,” he replied simply, trying to appear nonchalant. But your smile faded, and immediately he tensed. “What? What did I do now?”

A pout formed on your lips. “That’s all you’re going to say? ‘Good’? I just thought… maybe you’d say something sweet for once.”

His eyes widened. Sweet? He was… bad at sweet. His hands itched with an unfamiliar sense of inadequacy. “What do you want me to say, woman?” he asked, almost pleading. He took a half-step toward you, then hesitated, unsure if he should come any closer.

Your face softened, a slow chuckle escaping you. “You’re hopeless, aren’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Me? Hopeless? For being careful around my pathetic, fragile wife?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

The faintest wobble in your lip had him freezing in place. “Pathetic? Fragile?” you echoed, blinking up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

Oh no. He had really done it now.

Instantly, he was at your side, his arms hovering awkwardly before he dared wrap them around you. “I didn’t mean that,” he muttered, panic rising as he forced himself to soften his tone. “You’re… you’re strong. Stubborn, maybe, but strong.” He took a breath, feeling like he was fumbling through every word, yet determined to get it right.

You looked up at him, sniffling, and he felt a strange twist in his chest—a knot of guilt he’d usually ignore but now couldn’t bear. “I just…” he started again, almost helplessly. “I don’t know how to do this. You’re acting different. I don’t want to… hurt you, or the kid. So… just tell me what you need. I’ll do it.”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you, and you rested your head on his chest, reaching for his hand to press it gently against your belly. He went rigid at first, but he didn’t pull away, feeling something beneath his hand that could almost be described as… precious.

“You’re doing fine, Sukuna,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

And in that moment, he felt something swell within him. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t frustration. It was new, strange, but not unpleasant. For once, he didn’t try to brush it away .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea. 

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office. 

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters. 

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

~

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks. 

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself. 

“He should get here soon.” 

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea. 

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state. 

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?” 

Wake… up? 

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia- 

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more. 

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne. 

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme. 

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?” 

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course. 

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne? 

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing. 

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself. 

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this. 

And, god damn, did he miss it. 

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos. 

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed. 

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine. 

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

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It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[munsonsreputation]

i can't talk to you when i'm like this

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.1K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has a history of shitty ex's, steve accidentally makes reader cry, a lot of angst regarding past relationships (feelings wise), steve's shitty childhood & terrible dad (brief), fluff at the end (yes because i am a softie)

summary: steve never raises his voice at you, but the first time he does, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him what's really bothering you when you’re seconds away from breaking down.

You hate how the tears coming springing to your eyes the second Steve raises his voice a little too loudly beneath his already apparent annoyance.

Your brain blanks out the second it bellows against the walls and comes hurtling down to your eardrums. It feels like glass shattering in a million different ways, cutting you open and killing you with a thousand cuts.

He’s frozen in front of you, blinking with a look of oblivion on his face because he’s waiting. His arms still held wide open after he asked a question: one that was posed with a tone too sharp for your liking.

“Why are you making it such a big deal?”

His usually sweet and gentle tone was long gone, or at least that’s how you heard it. Instead, it dribbled with irritation and resentment meshed all in one. The kind that sounded like he was fed up and wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

He was just trying to do a sweet thing by picking you both up some coffee and yet here you were starting an argument — you always had to ruin a good thing.

Your teeth dig into your gums, trying to find any way to hold off on the waterworks that you know are about to pour any second now. Cloudy orbs shoot down to your bare feet, trembling against the floorboards while you excuse yourself from the kitchen.

“I’m g-going to the bathroom.”

Your voice is delicate yet not the kind that Steve knows like the back of his hand — the one where you keep it so quiet like an oath when you whisper you love him when you think he’s asleep and no one else is around to hear it.

This time the oath is broken, cracked, just like your voice, torn at the seams between fear and panic. Its edges are frayed and tattered, and its tenderness that is usually formed out of affection is long gone as it cuts through your chest and causes your back to heave as you walk away.

He knows he messed up.

It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be so worked up over the barista leaving her number on Steve’s cup. But you are. You’re worked the hell up and you want him to understand why it is such a big deal to you.

It’s upsetting because you shouldn’t be this wound up and insecure. You know Steve would never even dare to dial the numbers left on the cup, let alone remember the name she left on there. He’s head over heels in love with you the same way you are with him — yet you just don’t get it.

You don’t get the way this makes your insides turn and the thoughts to start whirlwind in your head. At first you were just upset about the number, maybe even just mildly irked — but then the second Steve’s voice came to you like that… that’s when you entirely forgot how to even tell him how you felt.

Now you just felt stupid for making it such a big deal and turning it into this.

“Breathe….” you murmur to yourself jaw trembling as you try not to tense.

The tears finally roll when your back collides with the bathroom door and your shaky fingers lock it shut. Your heart feels like it’s on fire, one that consumes your entire being and engulfs you in the bluest blue instead of the blazing red.

The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the door that’s holding up your weight and it’s not long after that the person you love yet are avoiding is on the other side making it more difficult for you to attempt to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

“B-baby… I’m so sorry.”

The apology comes in an instant, and you could almost feel his breath hitting your neck from behind the wood. You know it’s genuine…Steve has never ever made you cry. You feel now like you’ve taken everything out of proportion — you should’ve just giggled and said ‘oh that’s cute! too bad you’re my boyfriend!’

All of the things you wished you would have said play in your mind like punishment for the way you’ve acted. How you know you’ve turned the tables on him and made him look like the bad guy when he was far from that.

He was just shocked to come home and hand you your favorite drink only to be asked about the barista he barely gave his attention to. Your accusing voice after he did something nice wasn’t something he was expecting.

Your throat tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to cover it up and make it seem like you weren’t upset. You shuffled from the door, towards the sink, turning it on yet making no move to put your hands under the water.

“I’m fine! I—I just had to wash my face!” You lie, trying to cover your tracks as if Steve doesn’t already know it.

There’s been times when things have upset you, not things that Steve has done, but things that life throws at you and most of the times you hate how wound up you get. Without failure, you sneak away, just wanting a moment by yourself to cry without anyone feeling bad for you or asking questions because they’ll never get it. They don’t understand that the littlest things can trigger something inside of you to completely shut down from the rest of the world.

No one gets it… but Steve does.

“Baby,” His voice is stronger this time, yet tender, “please, can I come in? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Your fingers finally come in contact with the frigid water, dabbing the droplets over your eyes attempting to get them to settle instead of looking like you were just crying. There’s a sniffle that comes from you as you clear your airways and a pathetic smile that you press onto your face to try to hide how you’re really feeling.

The water shuts off and you’re opening the door, cutting his apology off altogether.

“I’m fine, Steve!”

Your voice isn’t swaying even with the volume it carries and neither with the faint laugh you give him when you meet face to face. Your lashes still bear the droplets of salt and your cheeks tinted red with the path they’ve traveled down.

He can feel the pain in your voice and see the wobble of your chin as you hold back everything inside. He hates that you feel like you have to mask how you’re really feeling when, in actuality, you should be furious at him for what he did.

“Baby,”

Sadness joins his concern, and he doesn’t bother to hide it — he’s not sure he can when his eyes leak the same emotion, “Baby, you’re not fine…I know you’re not fine.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes unconvincingly. “I literally am, babe… it’s cool. Everything is fine.”

He knows that now you’re trying to reassure yourself rather than him. Trying to play it off and make it seem like everything was okay. Like he’s just supposed to accept it and let you hold everything inside like torture when that’s far from what he wants.

Your attempts to brush past him are futile when his hands come out to hold your shoulders, his fingertips kneading your tense skin. He can feel the blood rushing from under your clothes and it’s not the kind of warmth you usually carry — you are blistering and if he looks hard enough, he can see the way your chest is trying to level itself out as you hold back.

It takes everything in you to not draw your eyes away from his because you don’t want him to know that you’re still feeling it. Feeling stupid and at the same time nothing at all because you don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and none of them you can put a finger on because you’re just lost.

You just don’t want him to think you’re crazy… like you reacting to him raising his voice like that was something that would daunt him away.

One of his hands stops its movement on your skin, raising up to your cheek and cradling you gently. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes seep with regret and guilt. His lips part and the words that leave them come in whispers and fragility — croaks and cracks guiding them.

“Everything isn’t fine… I acted like an idiot and raised my voice at you. I’m sorry baby, I—I never meant to do that on purpose. It just came out, but that isn’t an excuse.” He shakes his head at himself disappointingly because he knows better.

Steve was far from perfect in his own eyes, but he knew better because all his life if there was one person he didn’t want to be like, it was his dad. The dad that used to scream at his mother, and scream at him, and scream at the world when everything went wrong, and didn’t know how to talk if it wasn’t screaming.

He’d never forgive himself if he made you feel that way or even became a smidge of what his father was. But it wasn’t him who he was blaming for this — this was all Steve himself, and he knew that. Accountability needed to be taken from himself because the only person he was hurting was you and it was going to be okay.

Not in the heat of the moment, not ever.

You hadn’t even noticed you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, the faint taste of iron trickling onto your tongue when you realized you were biting down on the skin too hard trying to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, please just—just tell me how to make it better.” His voice pleads and reasons, wanting to make it right with you anyway he could.

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall as you feel his thumbs wipe them away. He’s done this times before, wiping away your tears that had spewed from another’s doing. Never did he ever think he would be the cause.

“I-it’s nothing… it’s stupid, I’m stupid and dramatic.” You swallow thickly, sniffling and twisting your fingers in your hand to fight off the lingering feelings.

He shakes his head. The obvious look of disapproval for your words covers his face because this was far from your fault. Sure, he was bewildered about the whole incident, considering he didn’t even know the number was left there until you brought it up, but for him to not know how to convey his frustration better was the real issue at hand.

Not the accusation, not the stupid number, not the oblivious girl who left her number: it was him, Steve’s idiotic actions that got you both here.

“Stop, don’t talk to yourself like that.” He insists, staring deeply into your eyes, searching for a reason why you were blaming yourself,

Your jaw shakes roughly before a sob rips through your mouth. Tightening your eyes to try to get the tears to stop, yet they don’t cease no matter how hard you try. Frustration builds inside of you because you should be over it by now. The fact that he apologized and was here trying to comfort you should be enough.

But something inside of you won’t let it die. The silence is filled with the memory of his voice shouting at you and the face that he stared back with.

“I—I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.” You croak, covering your face and turning away from him to save you the embarrassment.

But he strays to where you are, sticking beside you with a comforting hand resting on your back, “Sweetheart, nothing is—”

You sob one more, this time with a grunt that is direct to yourself. Stomping your foot against the cold tiles, your hands come down to grip the edges of the counter tightly. Your reflection in the mirror is only half of what you feel, and when Steve steps behind you, all you can see is guilt, but at the same time patience knowing he’s ready when you are.

You try your very best to at least keep your sobs at bay just enough for you to speak through them and for him to understand.

“You’re not gonna wanna be with me anymore knowing I can’t—I can’t talk to you when I’m like this! I don’t know why, but I can’t… it makes me feel stupid, like I’m crying over something so tiny and now I’ve totally forgotten why we were even arguing in the first place.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and reaching in front of you to bring your hair back and away from your face. His eyes keep yours in the mirror, watching at you with such a gentleness that even now doesn’t falter.

“We weren’t arguing. I was just dumb and raised my voice when you were asking me about it.”

You move your sights from his to the bottom of the sink, shaking your head, “No, b-but I shouldn’t have reacted like that and made you look like the bad guy when yo—”

Your voice is traveling faster than you can think, spewing out words so hastily like you have to make him understand that it’s not his fault, but yours. It takes your breath away, hiccuping and coughing between a sob that leaves your mouth and bobbles in your chest.

Steve’s instantaneously rubbing your back, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down knowing you going on and on like this wouldn’t do you any good. He understands that you feel a lot of things very deeply and sometimes it isn’t an easy task to get them all out at once: he knows it and he’ll spend forever with you until you got it all out.

“Hey, hey, baby, c’mon… breathe,” He coos, his palm never stilling on your back feeling the deep breaths in and out, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto the counter.

It’s a kind of scene he hates to see, the one he wishes he could take from you and shoulder instead because watching you in such a state breaks his heart more than he could imagine. And this time it stings a little more knowing that he not only cannot shoulder your pain, but was the one creating it this time.

“Talk to me, please. What’s going on? Why’re so you upset at yourself and not at me?” He begs, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re feeling so he knows where the root is.

“B-because… I made it such a b-big deal.” You hiccup.

When you swipe angrily at your eyes with a ferociousness, that’s enough to make Steve step in and take it from here now that he knows where you’re coming from. A warm hand comes down onto your shoulder, pulling at you just enough for you to face him completely, weakly hanging your head low not knowing if you were strong enough to see him just yet.

“You didn’t make anything a big deal. I promise, we’re okay.” He whispers quietly, cupping your face in his hands, and bringing you face to face, “You’re not stupid and I could never think that you were. You’re human honey. It’s normal for you to be upset by things.”

“B-but I…I don’t want you to think you did something wrong—“

He stops you with a shake of his head. “But I did. I did something so wrong. I yelled when I shouldn’t have, and I made you feel like shit.”

Steve desperately needs you to know it. That this was his fault and no one else’s. That him making you feel like crap was the worst thing he could have ever done, but he was willing to man up to it and try to make things better, and at the same time he would understand if you wanted nothing to do with him after this.

Still, even after his words, you’re somehow even angrier at yourself, mind blaring at you for being such a dramatic person for making him go out of this way with all of this. That this was surely your fault and yours only, and if you didn’t take it off his plate, it was just something he would use against you one day to realize that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

It’s what they all did — held it over your head and made you feel like you were wrong for feeling how you felt, so instead it was best not to feel anything at all. To hide it away and hope that being noncombative meant that everything was going to be okay and it wouldn’t give them a reason to run.

“I-it’s my fault—” You pinch your eyes, gulping back a cry as you shake your head in his hands.

His brows pull together, eyes squinting at you, not completely understanding why you’re doing this.

“Hey, stop, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t take the fall for me,” Steve assures you with a sternness to his soft voice, continuing to wipe the seeping tears.

Somehow you can’t let it go, “But—”

“But nothing.” He starts, his voice composed yet unyielding in his tone.

He can’t stand it, clutching your face a little firmer, hoping that you would peek your eyes open to see him because he desperately needs you to. The second you do, your face twists again with heartache, praying that he would just let you go and walk out already, because by now, he probably thinks you’re insane — there’s no way he’s not thinking it.

His lips part, trying to find the right words to say, needing the perfect ones to get through you because he hates how you won’t let him take the fall, the one he so rightfully deserves to come crashing down on. You are everything to him and in some ways the feelings that you feel hit him right in the heart, and right now is no different, but there’s a wall between you both and his only goal is to knock it down completely.

“I—I don’t know why you feel like you have to protect me, but I promise you don’t.” He whispers, watching as you try to calm yourself, little sniffles going in and out and broken cries leaving your mouth.

His thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks, soothing your withering skin. Slowly but surely your cries die little by little, eyes fixed on his, trusting that he means everything that he says, because Steve isn’t like the others — something that you should’ve known judging from his character alone.

“If I do something that makes you upset or sad, you should be able to voice that, not keep it in. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me when I’ve done something wrong. I—I want you to feel safe and okay around me, enough to know that my love for you isn’t gonna change, just because you bring something up. You have every right to be upset, and angry, and disappointed, everything.”

He says it like he means it and you know it’s because he does. He lets every word hang from the stars as if he put them up there, and points them out just for you to know that they are there and true, because that’s all he ever wanted. For you to know that every word he speaks comes from his heart, and no matter how many times he needs to repeat it, he’ll do it over and over again, just so you know it’s real and until you believe them and know he won’t ever break them.

“Don’t ever blame yourself for me, please? I-I don’t want you to do that to yourself because I’m here and…and every time I fuck up or make a mistake, I swear I’m gonna own up to it and try to fix it. But I’m not gonna let you take the blame, okay?”

Being with Steve for so long still feels so new, especially when you know he isn’t like the rest of the boys from your past. He’s patient and kind with a big heap of understanding. Like everyone else in the world, he’s guilty of his own poor moments, but he’ll be damned if he takes that out on you or makes you feel like it’s your responsibility.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, letting his hands fall away from your face, letting you decide what the next move is.

The tears that escape are more so in between the remains of the sadness being washed away with tears of love and gratitude. Your arms wrap around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his chest where the tears soak through his chest. Without a second thought, his arms envelop you, rocking you both back and forth as he presses kisses on the top of your head.

It mends your heart not merely because he’s just sorry, but because you didn’t get plenty of sorries before. Left only with sweeping things under the rug and pretending like nothing ever happened — it never solved anything and never gave you much.

But Steve gives you everything and so much more.

A big chunk of you feels like you don’t deserve him because he seriously is the best person with an even better soul wrapped up into one and yet he chooses you — every day. He sees you through all the good and the bad and never makes you feel like you’re alone even when you could be a distance away when you’re right beside him.

When you talk too much, say too little, or sometimes say nothing at all — he’s there giving you a listening ear and comforting shoulder to lean on whoever you need it. And on the days when you can’t talk to him when you’re like this… he’ll wait until you’re ready and show you that he’s always going to be there every step of the way.

He’s everything you could have asked for and more.

You pull your face away from hiding, resting your chin up on his chest as you stared up at him.

“I’m sorry too. I—I shouldn’t have been so indifferent earlier and just told you what I was feeling from the get-go.” You sniffled, rubbing your hands over his back, smiling faintly when he nodded understandingly.

He knows that sometimes he might not quite get it, might not see things in the same light as you, but he would never try to dismiss your feelings. He would sit beside you through the storms and sunshines, knowing that he was learning more about himself and you with you in his life.

That because of you, the younger version of himself got to heal his deepest wounds and open himself up to a love he only through he could dream up. You were here making him a better version of himself, all while he was doing the same for you. Showing you that the scars and fears of your past didn’t have to live in the next person you met — that you could let it go and open yourself up to the love you deserved.

His love.

“I forgive you only if you forgive me,” Steve grinned, swiping away at the dampness on your cheeks.

You grinned, nodding up at him. “Of course, I forgive you.”

“I love you so much… nothings ever gonna change that.” He hummed, cupping your face, taking you all in for the person he loved so dearly.

You closed your eyes blissfully before a kiss was placed on your lips.

“I know, I love you too.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi all, I hoped you like this little one-shot/imagine... i had this one sitting in my wips for awhile and it was nearly finished but I didn't have the inspiration to finish it until now. I don't usually write angst bcs i am a fluff girl, but this concept just came to me bcs like a lot of people when someone raises their voice at me...i just freeze and i don't know what to make of it and i just start crying. i think steve would be super apologetic and i wanted to write this bcs i needed some stevie!comfort so yeah... i hope you all enjoyed!!!

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