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mammonsrockstargf · 26 days

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Clammy hands? No problem!

How obey me characters react to you having sweaty hands. Based on this ask.

Pairings: (Separate) Mammon, Satan, Solomon, Barbatos x gn!reader

Mammon

“Hold my hand,” he says and reaches for you while looking somewhere else. You reach for his hand, but pull away in the last second, keeping your hands to yourself.

“No thanks,” you say and Mammon gives you a glare that could rival Satan. His hand is still extended towards you and he motions for you to give him yours. “Gimme your hand,” he says and it sounds almost like a whine. You awkwardly wipe your hands in your uniform and shake your head. “No,”

“Why?” Mammon asks and you sigh. “My hands are sweaty and gross,” you say and Mammon blinks. He looks at you for two seconds before he blinks again. “Your hands are what?” he asks and you give him a look that makes a shiver run down his back. “They’re gross, okay! It’s hot down here and you’re hot–“ your rant is interrupted by a giggle. Mammon looks like he just won the lottery. “What?” you ask and Mammon smiles brightly, almost blinding you by the flash of teeth.

“Ya just called me hot, treasure,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I meant literally, you dumb–“

“Nu-uh, no takebacks!” he grins and this time he grips your hand, intertwining your fingers. “And I don’t care if ya hands are sweaty, I still wanna hold ya,” he says and leans down to press a kiss to your temple before pulling you towards your destination, leaving you stumbling after him and unable to overthink your intertwined fingers, snuggly fitting into his.

Satan

You slowly remove your hand from Satan’s and discreetly wipe it on your bottoms, while Satan is engrossed in the book he’s reading. “Come back,” he mumbles and reaches for your hand again and you hesitantly give him your hand back, relaxing when he traces patterns into your palm. The calmness is short-lived though, as you find it harder and harder to relax when you feel your hands turn clammy again. “Satan,” you mumble and he hums, not looking away from his book. “My hands are sweating,” you say and Satan looks up.

“So?” he asks and you frown. “It’s embarrassing,” you say and Satan smiles fondly at you. “I don’t think so,” he says and brings your hand to his lips, giving your knuckles a kiss. “It’s cute,” he says and places your hands down at the table while tracing patterns again.

You sigh and return to your own book. “I don’t like it,” you mumble and the patterns stop. You look up and meet Satan’s eyes, which are intently on you, as though he’s trying to read your mind. “Well, it’s one of the things I like about you,” he says and you huff, giving him a look that tells you think he’s full of it.

“Riiightt,” you say, drawing out the vowels. “You love that I’m sweaty?” you ask and purse your lips. Satan laughs and shakes his head. “Well, no and yes,” he says. “I like that you’re human. I like that you’re you. If that means a little sweat then I’ll take it,” he says and gives your hand two comforting squeezes.

“Besides, demons do things that are much more gross than sweating,”

Solomon

You groan when you open the door leading out to the courtyard of R.A.D. A rush of heat hits your face instantly making you flush. “Why is it so hot,” you complain to Solomon, who’s following closely behind you. He shrugs, not seeming bothered at all. “You get used to it,” he says and you glare at him. “I’ve been here for months and I still feel like I’m my organs are slowly getting boiled,” you say and Solomon laughs. “That’s very graphic,” he points out and you roll your eyes. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” you say.

Solomon hums and reaches for your hand. You go to give it to him but pull back hiding your hand in your pocket. Solomon frowns and gives you a look, reminding you of a wounded puppy.

“Sorry, my hands are gross,” you say and Solomon pulls your hand out of your pocket, inspecting it. “They look pretty normal to me,” he says and traces a finger from your palm to your index finger. “They’re always so sweaty,” you mutter and retract your hand. Solomon frowns and puts his hands in his pocket to prevent himself from attempting to shake some sense into you. “I don’t care,” he says.

You pout. Solomon relents. Call him a doting old man, he does not care. Not when it’s about you. “Okay, I know a spell.” he sighs and you grin. “But it’s not because I think you’re gross, you hear me? It’s to make you more comfortable,” He lectures and you nod eagerly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and effectively making his ears flush. “Of course, Sol, I know,”

Solomon internally screams as he watches you practically skip across the courtyard in happiness before his legs catch up and he follows you. He can never help himself when it comes to you.

Barbatos

Barbatos doesn’t really notice, because, well, he wears gloves. He does however notice that you seem squeamish. “What’s wrong?” he asks and grips your hand, which you quickly retrieve. “Nothing,” you mutter and stick your hands in your pockets. Barbatos frowns. “Don’t lie,” he simply says but when you look up his eyes are piercing through you.

You frown as well. “I’m not lying,” you lie and Barbatos just gives you a blank stare.

You stare back. Unfortunately for you demons rarely blink and you lose the imaginary staring contest. "I don't like holding hands because my hands are sweaty all the time," you say and Barbatos barely reacts, the only thing giving him away being a small twitch of his eyebrow.

"I've never noticed your hands being sweaty," Barbatos says and you shrug. "Yeah, well, they are so can we just-"

Barbatos pulls off his glove in a fluid motion and grabs your hand. His touch is soft as he measures your hand against his, looking comically small against his demon hands, before intertwining your fingers. You open your mouth and close it again and Barbatos smiles at you. "I think your hands are just perfect," he says and your jaw goes slack. His eyes turn into crescents before he detangles his hand and pulls on his glove again as though nothing has happened. The only proof of the short event is the tiny blush dusting his cheeks.

"Well, I should go back to work," he says and you nod. "Yeah I have homework," you say and turn around on your heel, ready to walk down the hallway. Before you can run away, though, Barbatos grabs your hand once again and gives it a small squeeze. "I meant what I said," he says and you nod. "Yeah, I know, "

You're hesitant when you step closer to him and give him a small peck on the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Barb"

Divider by @/cafekitsune

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 10 months

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Daddy Dom!Simon "Ghost"Riley x Bratty!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: As a new recruit, you should not have the gall to talk back to your superior officer like you do. He's tried it all, trying to work the insubordination out of you, but to no avail. Your antics have really gotten under his skin lately, but is it really because you won't listen and follow orders...or is there something more to it that he can't admit? The way his cock throbs might indicate the latter and what he thinks about as he touches himself might just speak to that as well.

Author's Note: As we wait for the next part of Lieutenant's Whore, have this as a treat! Something I just whipped up quick as I couldn't get the thought out of my mind 😏😘

Word Count: 3.3 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? Something had crawled its way under Ghost’s skin today, sticking with him through to the evening now, and no matter how he tried to push the thoughts into the back of his mind they only seemed to lodge themselves more permanently in the foreground. No distraction or mundane daily task that took even most of his focus could ease the impact of influence on his mood as the thoughts constantly assaulted his mind. Even now as he stood in the bathroom of his private quarters, his anger at would not cease.

The screech of the shower handle turning sounded just beneath the heated phrases being whispered under his breath, the pipes coming to life with the distinct hiss of water as it pelted the floor of the shower. An earlier altercation had Ghost in a goddamn tizzy, his pulse elevated and his heartbeat in his ears as he undressed; perhaps being doused under the steady flow of the water would wash it all away.

“Fucking bloody slag,” he snapped as he pulled each article of clothing off one by one and dropped them onto the cool titled floor around his feet. Even his customary face covering he removed, wrenching it off and up over his head without a care as he was too absorbed in his rage which made everything feel far too binding. “Thinking that she can just speak to me like that. Goddammit, she knows exactly how to push each and every one of my fucking buttons.”

This wasn’t the first time he had encountered this very same problem, though this was the first time he had such a raw, visceral reaction to it. Usually he would let the disrespect go once he was away from the source, but today it just seemed to linger in an unhealthy amount until the Lieutenant could not see straight; his vision was only red.

He had not realized how much his skin was burning until he stepped under the stream of cool water, his chest getting hit first and making him grown at the sudden change in temperature. The soothing liquid rolled down the front of him, snaking its way through the shallow cracks left in his skin by the scars scattered across his pectorals and down his torso, but it did little to calm the fire still raging steadily inside.

The day you showed up on base with the newest set of recruits he knew by the way you unashamedly held his gaze when the others had immediately flinched and did not cower whenever he barked his orders would mean trouble and he hated to be right. Try as he might, there was no getting through your snarky, self-assured cocky attitude and most of his days were spent metaphorically pulling out his hair as no matter how many drills he had you run or sets of pull-ups or push-ups he had you complete, you could not be disciplined into obedience. A bitch like you was not easily broken and why you had not been discharged yet was a mystery; you must be more than worth the trouble.

A bawled fist slammed into the side of the shower, the percussive sound echoing and vibrating off the tight walls. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” he questioned aloud to no one. “Why can’t she just fucking listen, the little cunt? Why does she always have to pull that fucking shit?”

The wetness splashed over to his back as he took a step forward under the shower head, the engorged beads of water slithering their way down the curves of the muscles lining his shoulders and following the path to his ass and on towards his thighs and calves. Both of those bulky hands palmed the wall before him, allowing him to lean his torso forward and get the full length of his back under the water as his head hung limp. Heavy breaths, each one just as laboured as the last, continued even as he counted the water droplets falling down off his back and into the bottom of the shower as a way to ground himself, watching them slowly gather and swirl down the drain.

“I’ve tried it all,” he reassured himself, though even as the words left his lips, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. There was a whisper of a thought that reappeared just now that perhaps illustrated his true feelings about this problem. “Well, not exactly all.”

There was a spark of an idea that had appeared some weeks ago, one that he had not completely allowed himself to delve further into, one that had slunk its shrewd way at the edge of his thoughts. It had caught the cool and collected officer off guard at how his mind had conjured such a filthy concept… or that he did not outright despise that his imagination had led him there.

That exact day it happened he remembered well. The blazing sun and humid atmosphere had led to everyone being on edge, their bad attitudes matching the rising temperatures, and that meant the crude, underhanded remarks and balking that was a part of your usual repartee became even more grating on the Lieutenant’s nerves. With jaw sore from clenching so hard, the anger had finally reached its peak when you had told him to "make you" and with enough fury to make his presence suffocating to anyone within range, he stepped up aggressively into your face for the insubordination. There, standing with mere inches between you, your eyes ablaze with a fury for everything from the weather to the man barking orders before you, it happened.

It very well could have been the proximity of your bodies, the intense, dizzying heat, or the way the sweat around your neck slipped in glistening trails down your chest and caught his bird’s eye view as it nestled between the tops of your breasts. Maybe he had simply lost his goddamn mind due to the weather or the long hours he had been working lately or a random intrusive thought that caught him by surprise; whatever it was he could feel a stirring within the crotch of his pants in a sensation he had never felt towards you. His entire form froze in that moment and he was unable to do anything except stare straight ahead, even though the voice in his head was yelling at him to get it together, he paused long enough that by the smug expression on your face you felt you had gotten the last word and that was dangerous for him. The near two hundred push-ups forced upon you after that went by more easily than he would have liked; it was clear that that euphoric feeling you had from seemingly winning in that battle of wills against him was enough to see you through the strain on your arms and the pounding in your chest from the exertion of your punishment.

It was after that day that Ghost noticed a few strange happenings that only added fuel to the fire that had sparked to life inside him. Had your shirts always been so fucking tight or was it just the way they had always fit across your torso, pulling and straining at your chest as if it could barely contain it? Had your lips always been that juicy looking or were you just staying extra hydrated and he only caught you just after taking a drink so that your mouth mimicked another pair of lips that lay much, much lower down your body? You did not let up on your usual behavior of driving him up the goddamn wall, but did you always stand this close to him, brushing up against him randomly and somehow constantly bumping your plump ass on him whenever you bent over? It was believable as only an accident the first time it happened, but after he had to wonder.

And it only infuriated him more that the longer this went on the more he could not get you out of his head.

“Fucking slag, she probably does that shit on purpose just to screw with my head,” he growled angrily. His spine lengthened as he moved to stand up straighter, wiping the stray beads of water that had fallen into his eyes. The idea that had been born that day crept back into that devious mind of his once again and he chuckled maliciously as he indulged it a little. “If I had it my way, I know exactly how I’d like to make a little princess like her come to heel. She would regret ever trying to get my attention, especially when I fucking give it to her.”

Whenever he thought of you before this, it was with his teeth gritted and his fists balled so tight that his short nails cut into the skin of his palms, so what had changed? What right had his mind to pull this bullshit? Sure, the streamlined curves of your hips visible even through your bulky fatigues and the fullness of your perky tits were enough to draw even a lingering eye from time to time, but that was a far as he had allowed it to go until now. Now his thoughts were constantly on traveling back to those soft lips of yours and how he would kill to see how pretty they’d look wrapped around his cock or how he'd like to take you over his knee and spank that taut bare ass of yours until his handprintnwas fully visible, red and angry against your supple skin. Even the thought of your pussy entered his mind as it would probably be so tight it could barely be able to take all that he had to give. Bitchy girls always had the best equipment.

“I’d stuff that little cunt so good, she’d never fucking disobey me again; make that mouth useful for something else other than swearin at me,” he smirked with a flash of his teeth as he could not stop the progress of his thoughts. “I’d keep her dicked down nice and proper until she’s followin me around like a lost pup beggin for a treat.”

Moving his head back so that his thick neck and pecks were now exposed to the water, he could not stop the onslaught of his imagination from drawing out this thought further. Pandora’s box was now open and there was no shutting that shit down. Ghost closed his eyes as he conjured images of the way he’d drag you to his room and rip you out of your fucking shirt, taking those beautiful, soft breasts into his mouth to bite, lick, and suck at the bright pink nipples that would be stiff as his mouth claimed them. Shite, how velvety they would feel between his lips, how pliable they would give in his teeth. He’d make you undress quickly the rest of the way for him under threat of punishment if you didn't follow orders and drag you to the shower to pull you in with him, your naked body slamming up harshly up against the wall of the shower as he overpowered you with his much larger one. He pictured your bare chest, the water flowing over the crest of your breasts as he picked you up just enough that your legs could wrap themselves around his thick torso to secure you to him before he thrust harshly and buried himself within you. What sounds would you make as he plowed through your petals and into your entrance? Would you whimper piteously as you folded like a good little girl; would you cry and swear out loudly as his girth stretch your core to capacity so that anyone within earshot could hear you taking him?

There was so question that he’d fuck you so good, making your back constantly slip and slide around all the damp surfaces as his overwhelming thrusts pounded into your cunt over and over again with a vigor that would not let up until that burning desire that has been building for weeks could finally be satisfied. A shiver ran up his spine as he imagined your finger nails clawing at his back, leaving read, angry marks as you held on for dear life. How they’d sting as the water washed over them; oh, it would hurt so, so good. The brief fantasy left his hand trembling and had his phallus springing to life with a sudden tightness that made him breathless.

This is how it had been since that day, though he had done everything in his power to not touch himself; if he did he knew that would mean his ruin. But that deep ache throbbing down below just between his legs was more than he could handle anymore and now that he had allowed himself to fantasize about what he could have, there was no getting rid of it expect by taking action.

His large hand moved down past the sparse light brown hair that covered his abdominals as it trailed down his body, the skin was already nice and lubricated from the water running its way down the length of him. Taking his lower lip between his teeth he bit down with a whimper as his long, calloused fingers brushed against the tip of his tender, engorged cock before he was able to take it fully into his grasp.

Goddamn what he would have given in that moment to make that fantasy a reality; he would have sold his soul to Satan himself for the feeling of you clenching down around him right now as his own hand paled in comparison to the fabricated assumptions in his mind.

"Fucking bitch, you’ve put me under your spell," Ghost growled in a raspy whisper, as if insulting you would somehow make his desperate need of you any less pathetic to himself.

Putting pressure in his grip he began to rub his length from base to tip in steady, even strokes. Deep, guttural grunts began to fill the bathroom as that beefy forearm worked itself forward and back over and over again. Goddammit he was so hard and tender it almost hurt to touch.

His mind's eye wandered back to visions of you perched on top of him now in his bed, riding him desperately into the scant bit of plushness he called a mattress, as his greedy hands clasped around your hips to force you to bob up and down on his dick as hard and as fast as he wished. Faster and faster he’d make your body work for him, shoving you as far down onto him as he could until your hips were grinding into one another; his perfect fuck toy. You’d be so out of your mind with evstasy, would you be able to form words? No, you’d only be able to muster a few simple mewls as he hit that perfect little button of pleasure inside you time and time again.

“Got you quiet now, yeah,” he groaned desperately at the vision as he licked his hungry lips. “You like that, princess? So fucking full on my cock you can hardly think straight? Come on now, use your words sweetheart. Tell me how much you like it; you’ve never had a problem speaking up before."

The imagined music of your moans emanating from your open mouth from his cock being buried deep within you made his skin tingle like an electrical current. The drawn out strokes from his hand began to become more sloppy as the images continued to flood their way into his thoughts. Again they wandered to conjure even more depraved things as he pictured himself taking control in the moment, grabbing you around the throat and flipping you on your back as he pinned your arms up above your head. He’d hold secure those slender wrists together with just one of his large hands so that he could have free reign to do whatever he wished without your interference. There would not be a single piece of flesh that did not know how he felt.

Ghost’s pace again quicken. “A-ah, fuck….!” he hissed. He was certain you had probably had guys before him, it was obvious a woman like you knew what she wanted, but there would absolutely be no one after; he’d make sure of that by leaving his mark anywhere he thought someone who try to touch.

His breathing faltered along with his strokes as he imagined hurriedly switching positions so that he would not have to pull out for long, propping your legs up on those broad shoulders so that he could push deeper into you down to the very end of his shaft until there was nothing left to give. Oh, the way he knew you would whine and buck against him as he bottomed out inside of you, but there would be no backing out now. That cunt now belonged to him and only him as if it had 'Property of Simon' tattooed across it.

Ghost had to swallow the saliva in his mouth that had gathered from that delicious bit of imagery. “Take it, take it all, sweetheart,” he panted. “Every last goddamn inch like the filthy fucking slag you are. That's it.”

You’d be whimpering, begging him to stop as the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes from the over-stimulation being almost to much to bear. So full, you’d be far too full with him and yet to really stop would be catastrophic as that delicious pressure setting you on a one way course directly towards your immediate release would end and that would be a far worse crime. He knew you wouldn’t want him to do anything except keep the rhythm steady and that is exactly what he intended to do, though he would wipe away a few of those stray droplet’s with his thumb as he continued to plow you; he was a gentlemen at his core after all.

“Look beautiful like this, luv,” he groaned under his breath. “On your back getting absolutely wrecked by me. Cry all you like, you know you can't get enough.”

Again he pounded his free fist into the side of the shower wall, this time from being so close to blowing that he could taste it in the back of his throat. More aggressively he yanked at his cock, the wet, sloppy sounds from skin working over moistened skin were loud and distinct over the sound of the running water from the shower head. That familiar fire was right there in the pit of his stomach as he envisioned the way you’d bear down on him as you came, fluttering around his cock as your orgasm overtook you in a violent burst that threatened to rip you apart.

“That’s it baby, that’s…it,” he stumbled over his words. It was there, right there; just a bit more and he’d be painting the walls.

The envisioned sound of your voice crying out his name in the throws of ecstasy was all he needed to finally finish with a bang. He grunted as the cheeks of his toned ass clenched while he milked every last fucking bit of cum that he could from himself. Knees began wobbling as they nearly buckled out from under him as the intensity of his release took all his strength and he had to brace his forearm against the wall to stop from slipping as the stroking of his hand slowed until it came to a stop. That arm propped up the exhausted mess of a hulking man as he breathed through his orgasm, wanting to ride out every last second he could.

The fruit of his endeavors were rinsed down into the bottom of the shower and were quickly whisked away, removing any evidence of the filthy thoughts that had plagued him minutes before, though their ghost still lingered in the back of his mind as if he had just awoken from a very good dream. There was a part of him that wished that all his desires for you had been sucked down the drain along with his cum, as this was certain to become am issue in a short amount of time, but he knew he would not be that lucky.

He craved you in a most unholy way and that meant at some point this little problem was going to come to a head. There was no telling what would happen to him when he saw you next now that he had entertained the full extent of his fantasies, but one thing he did know was that if there was a way to have you just as he wanted, he would find it...and God fucking help you when he did.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simin ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mwii

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derpy-dogs-n-cats · 3 months

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Courtship Misunderstanding.

Main Masterlist

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Neteyam x Fem! Metkayina! Reader.

Warnings: Talks about mating, implied sexual themes.

Summary: Neteyam finds out that he's still unaware of some of the customs of your people.

W/C: 2.5k+

Neteyam slowly rises from the water to the shore of the village of Awa’atlu, water pouring out of his hair as he drags the giant eel from the cord he’d brought along and tied around the base of its jaw. Stepping out of the water properly and turning to his left, he rests the end of the long cord in his hand over his shoulder, feeling satisfied at the sound of the heavy drag of the massive weight of the eel leaving a deep wet path on the sand.

It’d taken him days of exploring every inch of the waters, starting with the reefs and opening to the deeper ocean but he’d finally found a catch that was worthy of being gifted to you; an eel larger than him and almost as wide as his torso that quite frankly had him struggling, though he tried not to show. Neteyam watches how the sand suddenly turns dark, having him looking up and seeing that eclipse had started with nighttime falling upon them, urging him to walk faster.

Once he reaches the docks, he crouches down and squeezes his arms under the eel and between the sand, lifting it with a small grunt and placing it on the elastic sheet that creates paths to the marui. Placing his hands next to the eel firmly, he hoists himself up and lands on his knees on the path with a light bounce, taking the eel back in his arms and standing back on his feet, carrying it much like a newborn to further impress you with his strength..

His legs start walking the path to your family’s marui, careful that the eel doesn’t somehow leap out of his arms with the light bounce of his feet. As he walks to his destination, he crosses paths with a few metkayina walking by him, all turning around and eyeing him and his catch as they walk away, having him feeling somewhat giddy; the same feeling you elicit on him whenever you so much as look at him, and when you smile upon noticing him already looking at you…

He feels as if though his heart could just about explode. You make him feel just as innocently happy as when he was a child, back before the sky people returned, back before his father laid more weight on his shoulders, before he had bigger responsibilities, all of which his brother noticed which led to him being called ‘whipped’. He had no idea what it meant, but if this is what being ‘whipped’ felt like, he didn’t want it to stop.

Finally, he reaches your family’s pod and peeks in, standing at the corner of the entrance and seeing you sitting on your calves in front of the firepit at the center, using the light to weave a choker with thin vines and watching as you meticulously add a small white pearl into it, following an intricate pattern which will no doubt match the white freckles that beautifully adorn your body, the ones he can’t wait to trace patterns on.

“Neteyam!” You greet with a smile, having looked over and caught him staring at you. Your voice snaps him out of his trance and has him returning the same smile as you stand to approach him, having set down your choker. “Wow, your parents must be proud.” You compliment, eyeing the eel. “No, this… this is for you.” He smiles softly. “Me? Are you trying to feed my whole family?” You ask jokingly to which his tail nearly thrashes around excitedly.

“Yes.” He sheepishly answers. He knew you’d understand that he’s courting you, gifting you a hunt large enough to feed your entire family to prove he can provide for you and more once you have a few little ones running around. “Thank you so much.” You thank in a soft tone before being interrupted. “Neteyam.” The sound of your father’s voice speaks his name, having them looking at each other followed by your father hand gesturing that he sees him with Neteyam bowing his head.

“I see you.” He says, suddenly very nervous on your father reacting to his eldest daughter being courted. “What is this?” Your father waves his hand to the eel, wondering what he was doing with it in his pod when his family’s marui was on the other side of the village. “Neteyam caught this for us.” You answer with a warm feeling in your chest while said hunter’s ears lightly flick back in confusion. Just the presence alone of a na’vi outside of the family with a large catch should let him know you were being courted.

Maybe your father just didn’t want to accept the courting, was his catch not impressive enough? Surely he could understand that anything bigger wouldn’t have been able to be delivered, it was hard enough to carry the one in his arms. “Very well then.” Your father nods and takes the eel in his own arms with more ease than Neteyam, the small insecurity blossoming in his stomach subsiding the strain in his biceps despite being understandably younger.

While the eel is set near the fire, ready to be cut and cooked, the sound of your mother’s voice speaking your name enters your ears. “Mother.” You greet and approach her and Aonung, receiving a half hug from her due to your baby brother being carried in her other arm. “Neteyam brought us something.” You continue to boast with a smile, briefly pointing at the eel by the fire before taking the baby in your own arms.

Ronal looks at the eel with slightly wide eyes, the impressed expression filling Neteyam with a sense of pride and mostly relief, though unbeknownst to him, her surprise was due to never having seen one of the reef eels so big, given that they’re usually no larger than a na’vi’s forearm. Your mother gestures that he sees him as a thanks to which he responds while your older brother looks away in annoyance, refusing to return the gesture.

Your mother gives a small pinch to his arm with a more than fear-inducing look on her eyes, forcing him to return the gesture. “Aonung, go bring your sister.” Your father’s voice says to which he follows after letting out an exasperated sigh, picking up his pace once he realizes Tsireya’s swimming with Lo’ak. “Come, eat with us.” Your mother invites Neteyam to the pod while your father cuts the eel as the younger male lets out a quiet relieved sigh at his offering being accepted.

You take his hand in yours and lead him in with a smile, pulling him down to sit next to you as he lets out a nervous breath through his smile, the flustered expression not going unnoticed by your parents who share a knowing look with each other, staying quiet to the matter. The rest of the night goes smoothly, your parents cooking the eel as they make small conversation about the village, your baby brother napping in your arms as you talk with your sister and occasionally share a few words and smiles with Neteyam…

The only one who looked unhappy was Aonung with the seemingly permanent annoyed look he bared on his face, though you suspected he was never happy and didn’t give him much importance in the time being. Though while the night felt soothing to you, Neteyam felt as if though he’d already had four heart attacks. The entire dinner he’d been anxiously waiting for the conversation to be had with your parents, about whether or not they approved of him.

He waited as patiently as he could for your parents to start the conversation on the matter, for them to voice their concerns if they had any, if they bestowed their blessing on the two of you becoming mates, make sure that you’d be taken care of properly, anything, but it never came. So as the end of the meal neared, he assumed that your parents simply trusted him enough that they felt as though nothing needed to be said on the matter.

“Ah.” You open your mouth in a way to encourage the baby in your lap to follow suit and open his own mouth, placing a small piece of meat in and smiling as he chews. Neteyam eyes you feeding your brother, a soft smile on his face at the sight of how you treat babies, unable to stop himself from thinking about how you would treat your own baby. Thoughts of him coming to your shared marui only to see his beautiful mate carrying his baby, your baby in your arms floods his mind, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

While you bring another piece of meat to your brother’s mouth, you remain sat unaware of how Neteyam’s, without much thought, tail slowly slides to the side behind you and reaches for your own, gently wrapping around it as best as he could. A gasp almost instantly leaves your mouth, accidentally dropping the meat in surprise with your eyes widening. The sound of the baby on your lap letting out a huff followed by crying snaps you out of your shock with your eyes opening even wider.

“Oh, I’m so sorry tìyawn.” You apologize as you pick up the meat from your lap, readjusting his back to your stomach and trying to feed it to him again only for him to sloppily grab it and throw it away, your parents now having their full attention on you yet unable to find the cause of the disturbance. “Come, give him to me.” Your mother indicates, stopping your actions of lightly bouncing the baby on your leg while patting his back.

You hand him over to your mother and watch how she almost instantly gets him to stop crying while you push the slight insecurity away by remembering how she’s already had another three kids to practice with, of course she would’ve mastered it already. The sudden absence of the tail that was previously wrapped around yours has you thinking back to the recent incident while Neteyam’s stuck feeling somewhat embarrassed of the mess, not having meant to surprise you so much.

You think back to how his tail wrapped around yours and feel yourself getting flustered, not knowing what to think of the action. Metkayina didn’t wrap their tails with each other, in fact, you didn’t wrap them around anything, your tails not being thin enough to offer the flexibility to do so, but for some reason, despite not being familiar with said action and not knowing what it meant, it felt… intimate.

Your father clears his throat and breaks you out of your overanalyzing thoughts, making you look at him. “It’s gotten quite late, it would be best to leave.” He suggests to which Neteyam’s ear perk up to attention. “Yes.” He quickly agrees and stands, and while the action makes you think that he feels as though he overstayed his welcome, in reality, he’s quite eager for what’s to follow. “Sleep well.” You say to him.

His face contorts in confusion as he takes in the sight of your innocent eyes looking at him, remaining sat. “Is something wrong?” Your sister questions before you can, all eyes suddenly on him and his confused expression as he wonders what’s happening. Why weren’t you standing to leave with him? Why did your parents seem oblivious to what was happening? Why did everybody seem oblivious to it?

You should all know what follows next, having finished the meal from the catch that he’d brought for you, the only thing that was left to do was for you to leave with him to somewhere more private so you could mate with each other. Had you changed your mind after accepting his catch? Had he somehow overstepped when he wrapped his tail around yours? “Neteyam? What’s wrong?” You ask with genuine concern, confusing him even more.

“… Nothing- I…” He pauses. What was he supposed to say? Where would he even start? “Rest well.” He returns your words before leaving, you and your family sharing a look that lets each other know that no one understood what happened either. The walk to his family’s marui feels like a blur, hundreds of thoughts and questions unanswered in his head which feels as if though it's just about ready to start spinning in confusion.

“Neteyam, what is wrong?” He hears the concerning voice of his mother ask, realizing that he hasn't just reached his family's marui, but is now pacing in their pod, all eyes on him once again. “’I… I do not know.” He manages to get the words out of his mouth, his legs still pacing him around. “How can you not know?” Lo’ak asks while his pacing brother starts breathing faster. “Boy.” Jake almost shouts, finally managing to get him to stop pacing and look at his family.

“What’s going on?” He adds. “I… I show up to Y/N’s marui, I gift her a huge eel- bigger than me, she accepts it, I have dinner with her family… and they don’t say anything!” He explains with frustration, taking his family by surprise, seeing the usually calm and collected eldest starting to lose it. “It took me three days to find the right catch, and- and when I get up to leave, she doesn’t come with me and acts like she doesn’t know what’s happening.” He rushes the words out, breathing heavily by the time they’re out.

“Neteyam…” Neytiri speaks his name yet stares at the ground as if pondering about something, wondering where she should start to explain to her son what happened. “Sit.” She ushers him closer with a soft voice. After hesitating for a few seconds, he steps closer and kneels in front of her, watching as her mouth opens and closes a few times as if searching for the right words before answering the question he’s so desperately been searching an answer to.

“These are reef na’vi, different na’vi court in other ways.” She explains, the slow widening of his eyes showing the realization dawning on him. “… What?” He asks somewhat in disbelief. “You skxawng.” He hears Kiri insult him, making him shoot his head back at her. “You knew?” He asks, the tone in his voice showing how offended he feels that she didn’t tell him beforehand. “I didn’t know you were courting her!” She defends. “Neteyam is old enough to choose a woman.” Their mother interjects.

“Then what do I do?” He quickly redirects his gaze back at her. “I do not know.” She rushes out as if it were obvious she doesn’t know how metkayina court. “But you told me-” “I have told you everything that I know.” She interrupts her son who quickly looks at his other parent for answers. “Don’t look at me.” He raises his hands in defense, his eldest son continuing to look at his other family members for answers only to no avail, letting him know that if he wants to know how to court you; a metkayina, he’ll have to ask another metkayina.

#neteyam imagines #neteyam x reader #avatar imagines #avatar x reader #atwow imagines #atwow x reader #avatar the way of the water imagines #avatar the way of the water x reader

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barbieaemond · 18 days

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The river’s undertow|teaser

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tully!reader

Warnings: dark(ish) Aemond, angst, misogyny, possessive behaviour, obsession, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, Aemond sucks at courting, Daeron saves the day

Based on this anon request: Aemond (or dark!Aemond) who, by Otto's bidding, gets reader to fall in love with him to form an alliance with her house through marriage. But he ends up falling hard for her! Her love language is physical touch, and Aemond is the most touch starved man in the whole of Westeros. A 'she fell first, he fell harder' type of thing.

Title comes from the song Persephone by Tamino

Lil sneak peek

He was so occupied with cursing the Gods for sending him there to play the pawn of his grandsire that he did not even realise he was not alone. And so, the haughty Prince Aemond Targaryen found himself flinching when a small, delicate voice came from behind him.

“My Prince.”

He turned sharply and saw a young lady clad in light blue, greeting him with a long curtsy.

“We were not expecting you.” she said raising her eyes at him for just a moment “but it’s certainly an honour to have you here in Riverrun.”

She spoke very softly, as if afraid of her own voice, and Aemond was at a loss for words for a moment, running his eye over her figure. She was small in stature, almost subdued, so much so that he had not heard her coming.

He cleared his throat, straightened his back and raised his chin haughtily. "I need to speak to Lord Grover."

"Of course, your Grace." She said with her head down, moving a single step before he spoke again in clear annoyance, hissing in fact. "I'm not finished."

He sighed loudly at the inconvenience of even having to explain to these savages that one does not leave the presence of a Prince without his consent.

“Apologies, your Grace.” She muttered mortified and, again, in a barely audible tone of voice.

“Speak up, girl. I’m half blind, not deaf.” he nothing but spat, feeling his spirits worsen steeply as the soaked clothes clung to him and the empty socket played hammer on his nerves. “I need a room to clean up. And I demand to meet Lady Tully along with the Lord Paramount.”

“Yes, my Prince. If you would follow me, I will show you to a room upstairs. And...you already met Lady Tully. She’s speaking to you.”

Aemond blinked for a moment before his eye slowly dropped to her entire figure. So, there she was. His future wife.

She was a pretty little thing, a gentle beauty, delicate, just like her voice. He didn't know how such delicacy would fit his sharp edges and frankly, he didn't care. He just had to fuck her and put a child in her womb before the end of the year. In light of that, at least she had a pretty face.

But first, he had to play the part. He had to make her cheeks flush.

#once a teaser always a teaser #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x female reader

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 5 months

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Imagine finding Mihawk after an argument with Shanks…

Mihawk huffed. He listened to what brought you to his company and he truly wished he was at the bottom of the Grand Line.

“You cannot be my shadow each time you have a disagreement with your red-haired fool.” He deadpanned and took a sip of his wine. “I’ve seen enough of your lovers spats to know how this turns out.”

You tapped the bar to signal for another round of mind-numbing rum, eyeing the amber liquid as it was dispensed like a hawk.

“This time it’s different. I’m not going back.” You muttered.

Mihawk rolled his eyes. It was always the same story. You and Shanks would argue. You’d storm off and find Mihawk to drink and dull the pain with ample ranting. Then one of two things would happen, either Shanks sought you out or you would sail back to what ever island he was passed out on.

But as Mihawk learned very quickly - this time it was different.

Two days passed and you were still at his side, nursing yet another hangover much to Mihawk’s chagrin. He had finally grew tired of your threats to throw up aboard his ship so he docked and waited for Shanks to show. But he didn't come for you.

Fours days in and no attempts of reconciliation resulted in you shadowing Mihawk in anything he did. It irked him to no end but the Warlord couldn't find it in himself to chase you off.

When the World Government called upon Mihawk’s services to ‘take care of’ a rapidly growing pirate armada on Day Seven, you offered to join the mission.

“Absolutely not.” Mihawk refused almost immediately. He wasn’t going to risk your life and then carry your body back to Shanks.

He didn’t offer funeral services.

The pirate began to walk away noticing the way you trailed after him. “Hey - I’m damn good with a sword,” when he said nothing, you jumped in front to force the pirate to a stop. “I can do this.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes. “And what happens if you can’t?”

You stepped back, a broken expression settling on your features that made Mihawk feel something akin to guilty.

“You’re just like him.” You whispered. “I prove myself time and time again and you both refuse to see it.”

“That’s not what I- you are very capable Y/n. I only meant...”

Your name was suddenly called out from a distance. Heads turning to the shore, you saw a small boat and a shadowy figure hurrying in your direction. At first you thought it was Shanks but when the hair lacked his vibrant red, your heart returned to its dark hole.

It was Yasopp. The marksman bending forward and huffing to recollect his breath when he reached you and Mihawk.

“Great. More people.” Mihawk mumbled under his breath.

Ignoring the comment, you addressed the pirate. “Yasopp? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Shanks.” The man panted. “He’s miserable and what’s worse is that he’s even more reckless.”

You frowned. “Did he send you to get me?”

Yasopp finally straightened up but there was no excitement to answering your question. “Beckmann did when he heard that the Captain wanted to take on the Marine Base at Coral Cove. You're the only one who can convince him otherwise.”

Your eyes widened. Shanks being reckless was a dangerous thing and Coral Cove was no joking matter. You had heard of awful things that happened to pirates who set foot on its shore.

If Shanks was trying to get your attention, it was working.

You stepped forward to follow Yasopp back to the Red Force when the blade of Yoru swiped before you, holding you back.

Looking up at Mihawk, you saw him glaring at your friend with his golden eyes.

“Y/n isn’t going anywhere. That one-armed fool can come here himself if he’s that desperate.” He said.

You touched the hilt of the sword with the intention to push it down but there was more luck in moving a mountain.

“Mihawk, Shanks is…”

“He is playing a game to have you run back to his side. And as much as I want to be rid of you, I will not let you forsake your dignity.” Mihawk replied without shifting his focus. “You can tell your Captain that Y/n will not leave my side until he shows his face. We will be on the Wave Coast sinking an armada.”

You hadn’t expected Mihawk to have such fierce support but you appreciated it. Looking at the pirate who was waiting, you sent him a nod and Yasopp caught the drift returning to his ship to relay the news.

Mihawk finally exhaled and turned to you. “Let’s go.”

Following him to his ship, you watched as he climbed in. You had never walked into a huge battle without the Red-Haired pirates at your side so it was new and daunting.

“Any advice?” You asked the Warlord, stepping aboard.

Mihawk took a seat and stared at the open sea. “Don’t die.”

He'd keep you safe during the fight. Then once the conflict was over, he was going to pay Shanks a visit.

The idiot would lose a leg if he didn't apologise and whisk you away by sundown.

~ More imagines here ~

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harryslittlefreakk · 6 months

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can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry x fan #harry fic #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles x fan #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut

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bkglovergirl · 1 month

Note

Hi there! So I was wondering if you could make a fic about bakugou x reader, where she and bakugou were childhood friends similar to him and deku, but the reader has been obvious about her crush on him, always complimenting him, telling him she likes him, even going to UA with him.

He would always straight up rejects her but lowkey likes her, (moving forward to kats arc where hes being a better person lol) the reader still makes him bentos from time to time, always follows him but it doesn't seem to 'irritate' him as much (hes just so happy with her always taking his side), patching him up ect. you get the picture

that is until a girl from class B started taking a liking to bakugou as well and theres a senario where reader gets the wrong idea and think that they're dating class B bitch who always tries to get on her nerves, but in reality bakugou straight up rejects her

reader changing bla bla bla, bakugou being like "WHYD YOU STOP BABYING ME STUPID ASS??!"

readers like "wtf?" bakugous like, "if you we have a problem talk to me, im your bf after all"

sorry if its long. i had a wonderful dream id like to relive ❤️

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bakugou X Reader

Childhood friends to lovers

I love the miscommunication trope, the ending is a little bit different.

Word Count: 2.3k

ೃ⁀➷

Ever since you could remember and much to Bakugou’s dismay you, Deku, and him have been childhood best friends. One thing is very well known between the trio. You have the biggest crush on Katsuki Bakugou. You make sure it’s known. The first time you realized you liked him, you told him almost right away. You both were around the age of seven and were at a playground fooling around. Neither of you guys had gotten your quirks and you “trained” at this particular playground every day whenever you could. You were running chasing the “villain” Deku around and around. Both your faces had dirt covered and you knew with how your clothes looked your mom was gonna be upset at you but who cares? You didn't.

“I’m gonna get you!”

“Nuh-uh!” Deku runs behind the slide and you follow after.

“Boo! Huh?” He had disappeared, quickly you looked around and saw him running up onto the base of the playhouse and into one of the small tunnels that connect the two. You run after. Not paying attention you miss one of the steps on the stairs and fall. Bakugou close behind went to go catch you and it was right then and there his quirk manifested and burned your arm as he grabbed you. “Ow! Ow!” You whined looking up at Bakugou.

“Are you okay?!” Deku comes running back down towards you both and you are slightly dazed so Bakugou asks again, “Are you okay!”

“Your quirk! Bakugou your quirk!!”

“I KNOW STUPID BUT ARE YOU OKAY?” You and Deku both give each other a look before looking at Bakugou.

“Yes, I’m okay!” you lied. “Bakugou, your quirk!” He smiled, and it was almost like you watched his ego form right then and there.

‘Hell yeah, I got my quirk before you two!' He turns and puts his arm out away from you guys and gives a small blast. “Look how cool it is!” After some of the excitement dies down, you manage to beg Bakugou to give you a piggyback as he walks you home after you both drop off Deku. “I don’t see the point in this.” He adjusts you on his back a bit to make it more comfortable for himself.

“Think of this as payback.” You giggle as you hear him groan. “Hey Bakugou?”

“What.”

“I like you.”

ೃ⁀➷

Years later you guys got into UA together and lucky for you and Izuku, in the same classroom as well. Confessing to Katsuki happens at least every other week, and him rejecting you happens every time. You both have gotten into a schedule. You’d walk to school and on certain days bring him a Bento box. You’d go to class and try and do everything with him if Mr Aizawa allows it. At the end of the day, Katsuki always walks you to your dorm before walking to his.

You knock on Katsuki's door and hear some grumbling before he answers the door, “Why can’t I get you at your dorm? Why do you always come to mine?” You shrug and hand him the Bento box you made him. “You gotta stop making these.”

“You say that, but you love it!” he rolls his eyes and takes it out of your hands. You both start walking to class together. “So I was thinking you and I could pair up because I heard Izuku and Todoroki are gonna pair up.”

“Why do you always wanna pair up together.” “To save you from the embarrassment of not getting picked.”

“I would get picked!”

“Absolutely not.” You go to open the door to the classroom but Katsuki quickly opens it for you, you smile and walk in.

You follow him to lunch and sit next to him. He grumbles his small complaint but quickly eats the food he complained about. He never says thank you or compliments the food, but you know he appreciates it by how empty he leaves the bento once he’s done. “It’s cold.”

“Stop complaining, maybe you should have brought your jacket.”

“Alright asshole my fault I forgot it!” The bickering goes back a forth a bit before you stand up, “Walk without me I need to talk to Denki about something.”

“Whatever.”

ೃ⁀➷

You switch the song on your phone before putting it in your skirt pocket and walk to class. You smile seeing Katsuki ahead of you and run to catch up but stop quickly. Katsuki is handing a girl his jacket and she’s smiling at him. Your heart sinks and you feel nauseous as you watch him open the door for the girl. You look at his face. ‘Is he blushing?!’ you bite the inside of your cheek and walk into the classroom. You hear Katsuki call after you but you ignore him. The small banter between you two is non-existent and the whole class quickly takes notice because you are uncomfortably quiet. The notes Katsuki passes to you go unread and you push them off your desk. Katsuki is panicking in his head, he is going through every single thing he’s done today and he can’t think of anything he has done wrong. You were fine at lunch and if anything happened you wouldn't ignore him, if anything you'd whine and complain to him about it. To Katsuki’s surprise, he’s really annoyed you aren't complaining to him. The bell rings and you quickly stuff your bag with all your things and speed walk to the door. “Hi is Katsu there?!” of course, you would run into her and Katsu?! Who the fuck does she think she is? Everyone is staring at the two of you, you step to the side to let the girl in and she runs up to Katsuki. “Katsu!” Your classmate's eyes follow the girl and look at you thinking the same exact thing you are. You shrug and walk out.

ೃ⁀➷

The next morning you walk to the classroom by yourself. Denki and Izuku come to check on you but you wave them off saying you are okay. Before they both walk away you quickly ask Denki to be partners in training. He gives a look to Izuku before agreeing. Katsuki walks in minutes later, late. He tries to talk to you but Aizawa tells him to get into his seat and he obeys.

Training starts a couple of hours later, and just like you guessed, no one wants to partner with Katsuki. He watched as you walked over to Denki when Aizawa announced that you all should grab partners. He’s crushed but shakes it off. His pride stops him from walking up to you. Kirishima takes one for the team and partners up with Katsuki. The training goes well, and surprisingly, you and Denki are a great team.

“I think we should be a team more often, Y/N!” You smile, agreeing with him. The next set of teams that are put against each other are You and Denki vs. Kirishima and Katsuki. During the whole fucking battle you manage to avoid Katsuki, you don’t know how you manage to pull that off and neither does he because he tried so hard to come after you specifically. By the end of the battle you and Denki come out victorious and Katsuki is pissed. Katsuki rips off his gauntlet looking at you and Denki walking off together and talking.

“Denki I-”

“Kaminari.” he corrects.

“Kaminari.” You smile. “I just don’t get it. Who the fuck is that girl?! Where did she come from? I’m with Katsuki so much how did I not notice there was another girl.”

“Doesn't he reject you all the time?”

“A part of me doesn't like it’s a rejection. He likes the things I do for him, but his rejection seems like a wait, not a no.” you put your hands up to your face, “I’ve liked him since we were little. The memory of me first liking him is imprinted into my body! How do you just get over that? How do you get over Katsuki Bakugou.” Kaminari puts his hand out to stop you from walking into a wall. You look at him and his face is looking at you with confusion.

“What do you mean by imprinted?” You roll up your sleeve and show him the big scar that was left on your body.

“This happened when his quirk first manifested. It was by accident and instead of celebrating his quirk he made sure I was okay first.”

“That doesn't sound like Bakugou.”

“I KNOW!” You rest your back against the wall, and Kaminari leans against it facing you. You don’t know how long you talked, but at some point, the talking turned into scheming. Katsuki comes walking up and the girl is right next to him talking away and honestly, he’s annoyed. It takes everything in him not to scream in her face. He sees you first. Then he sees Kaminari leaning against the wall next to you. At the same time, you see him first. Then the girl walking next to him. He takes note that he’s changed and cleaned up after training, you guys aren't even changed out of your hero outfits and are still all messy. The training ended an hour ago. He stops walking which the girl next to him takes as a green light to wrap her arms around his arm. Kaminari notices and quickly stands in front of you to block your line of view.

“Don’t look it’s only gonna hurt more.”

“Come to my dorm.”

“What?”

“Come to my dorm right now.” You grab his arm and drag him away aggressively. Kaminari has to stop himself from complaining your grip hurts.

ೃ⁀➷

Katsuki got up early enough to get to your dorm room. He knows this is the time you leave, he knows your exact schedule to the T. He knows your whole life and who you're close with so he’s honestly so fucking confused why you walk out of your dorm room and run up to Denki fucking Kaminari. On top of that, you hand him a bento box. His fucking Bento box. He’s stunned and stands there like a dumb ass watching as you walk away with him.

Class is giving him a headache. He just feels the need to take as many pain pills as he can. You and Denki have been joking around non-stop and it doesn't help that you sit in front of Katsuki and Denki sits in front of you. The class feels like forever. There is no training today so it is just class and he doesn't know how long he can just sit here and watch as you painfully ignore him. He concludes he’ll talk to you before lunch but that plan is quickly foiled as the girl from class 1B comes barging into the classroom like she owns the place and attaches herself to him. Katsuki watches as you stare a second before Kaminari puts an arm around your shoulder and walks you out of the room as quickly as he can. He makes a new plan that he’ll talk to you at lunch but that plan is also quickly ruined as the girl blocks him at his table so he can’t get up and go to you. So as your plan goes perfectly, he gets a perfect view of you and Kaminari sitting and having lunch together. He then makes plan number three, he’ll follow you around until he gets the perfect moment to yell at you. It’s perfect. He follows you to class with the annoying girl talking away. He sits in pain the whole rest of class as he watches you and Kaminari fool around the whole time.

ೃ⁀➷

“Why are you following me around.” You turn to look at him. You landed at your childhood park once you realized Katsuki was following you around. It’s cold and you hug yourself.

“So she speaks.”

“Don’t be an ass Bakugou. Why are you following me?” Katsuki’s stomach sinks. At least he knows how you feel now.

“Bakugou?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me?”

‘Don’t act fucking stupid.” He takes off his jacket and gets closer to you, You take a step back. “See what I mean?! I’m trying to give you my jacket and you step away from me! What the fuck Y/N!”

“Sorry, I don’t want what another girl got.”

“What are you- oh…”

“Yeah oh! Kaminari told me I wasn't being stupid but maybe I am! Maybe I should have stopped liking you when you rejected me the first time! BUT NO!” you get closer grabbing his shirt, “You make it so fucking difficult to not be in love with you!” He stares at you and leans down, as much as you don’t want to, you push him away. “No this had gotta stop. I’m not gonna let you keep toying with me and I gotta stop being so delusional.”

“You aren't being delusional.”

“Really because that girl has gotten more attention than I have gotten from you in years. Every time I confess since we were kids you act like I didn't say anything!”

“I just wasn't ready for things to change.” you scoff at him.

“It was always going to change! Did you like dragging me along? Where did that other girl come from?” you sit down on one of the swings and kick some wood chips. Putting your hands on the chain.

“I just wanted to make sure I liked you and I wasn't just… I don't fucking know! You're the only girl who has been in my life that wasn't my mom!” you glare at him.

“Wow.”

“Listen Y/N, I know it was stupid but I just needed to know before our relationship changed and I fucked everything up.” “So what was this conclusion from your stupid fucking experiment?” Katsuki takes this as a green light to come closer to you. You don’t say anything.

“That no girl compares.”

“Wow, Romeo it took you that long?” Katsuki stands in front of you and puts his hand on top of yours. You look up at him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m not confessing again.”

“I know.” He leans down and kisses you.

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #denki kaminari

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sweetbans29 · 1 month

Text

Power Couple - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Life during Caitlin and your rookie season - Based on THIS request

Warnings: None that I can think of :) just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 4.8k

Power Couple Part 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I don't know much about soccer but I tried my best! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think 🤍

The first time Caitlin knew you were something special was in high school. The two of you faced off on the soccer field during a game. This was when Caitlin still played soccer and was figuring out if she wanted to pursue soccer in college or basketball. She ended up going with the latter and was thankful for it because you were a force to be reckoned with.

You had nearly a perfect game. Your team came out on top but no thanks to a certain player on the other team. When the game was over and your team was going around saying 'good game' to the other team you pulled no.23 in.

"You almost gave me a run for my money, keep it up babe," you say as you bring her into a half hug so you can whisper it in her ear. You give her hip a little pinch before shaking hands with her coaches.

Caitlin is left speechless. She goes back into the locker room - star-struck and a little confused. She has never really been interested in anyone and has never really had the time to date but you had her wanting more. That night, she did some IG stalking and found you. She spent the whole evening looking through your page and all your tags. She went through all your teammate's photos and even searched you as a tag. She fell asleep contemplating if she was going to follow you. It seemed silly that she was nervous to press a button.

She dreamt of you that night. Had a dream that the two of you played D1 soccer in college together and were the 'it' couple of school (not like that is really a thing in college but a girl can dream). When she woke up in the morning she looked at her phone to see what time it was. She shot up when she saw the notification that you had followed her. She couldn't believe a single notification had her feeling like a little school girl but there she was.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw that Caitlin had requested to follow you back.

From there - she was the one to message you first, talking about how amazing you had played and how impressed she was. You were hardcore flattered. The two of you didn't talk much after but you both followed each other in your respective sports. You learned that Caitlin dropped soccer for basketball which you thought was a shame - she could have easily gone D1. But watching her on the court was something else. Her IQ on the court was something you had never seen before.

It was during your senior year of high school that the two of you started going to watch each other play. At least when you both had the time, which wasn't super frequent. It was merely a taste of what the two of you were about to experience in college. Both of you had signed to become Hawkeyees. Caitlin for basketball and you for soccer.

It was your freshman year of college that the two of you started hanging out. You had become pretty close friends that always acted like more. Your friendship took a turn one night when you were taking care of a very sick Caitlin.

"I don't want soup," she pouts and turns away from the spoonful of soup you are trying to feed her.

"Caitlin you need to eat," you say as you grab her shoulder to hold her down from rolling over. She tries to fight you but is extremely weak due to the flu overtaking her body. She whines when she can't turn away from you and lays there in defeat. She looks like she is on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," you say as you rub her arm. "Shhh it's okay love." Your hand comes up to her face and caresses it. She looks up at you with such tired eyes. "I know you don't want to but you haven't eaten in days and it's scaring me."

Her eyes stare into yours as she takes your hand holding the spoon and guides it to her mouth. She takes a little bite that looks painful to swallow but she does. You kiss her forehead and continue to feed her the broth.

Later that night you fell asleep next to her bed, you took the floor to not get sick yourself. Caitlin woke up and saw you sleeping on the floor. She turned to face you and looked down, she loved watching you sleep. You always looked so peaceful which is so different than watching you on the field. She reached down and brushed a piece of hair from your face and whispered 'I love you'. Little did she know that her touch had stirred you awake and you heard her little confession.

It was shortly after Caitlin got better that you two started dating. You went public on your three-month anniversary, which was also when you signed for the USWNT. It had been a dream of yours since you were a little girl.

You stopped playing for Iowa once you joined the women’s team but that didn’t stop you from going to support your girl for her games whenever you could. Caitlin did the same whenever you had games close by and the two of you sort of became known supporters at each other's games. It was kind of cute how people would get excited to see Caitlin coming to your games and vice versa. Someone had even started an amateur fan account for the two of you, nothing ever came from it but it would pop up on your feed every now and again. It was mostly posts of you wearing Caitlin's jerseys at her games and Caitlin wearing your jerseys to support your games.

There was one game you went to support Caitlin and had her fans come up and ask for pictures with you. It was cute how her fans were so supportive of the two of you. But with support, also comes hate.

As the years go on, your relationship with Caitlin grows. By the time the two of you are entering your senior year of college, you have pretty much been through it all. The ups and downs have been very high and very low but you wouldn't have changed any of it. It was because of those times that you know as you begin your careers, you and Caitlin will make it.

It is during your last year that you get drafted as the first pick to the Chicago Red Stars. Caitlin and your family are there for the draft and are over the moon for you to be playing closer to home. When your name is announced - you hug your family first then make your way to Caitlin. She engulfs you in a hug and kisses the top of your head. You look up and give her a little kiss before heading up to shake the announcer's hand and head off to a few interviews.

Being drafted before the school year ended meant that you would have to finish your senior year online. It wasn't your favorite but you were determined to get your degree, even though everyone was saying you no longer needed it. It was something you felt like you needed to accomplish.

This also meant that you would be moving to Chicago to start training. At no point was there ever any tension in your relationship with Catilin when it came to moving. The two of you had a conversation early on about what your life goals were which included playing pro for your respective sports. The two of you talked through what that would look like and how you would prioritize one another while pursuing each of your dreams. The way you two were on the same page only solidified your relationship even more.

As Caitlin and the Hawkeyes were heading into March Madness - you weren't able to make it to the Sweet Sixteen or the Elite Eight. That didn't stop you from watching your girl dominate on the court - breaking records and doing what she does best (shooting logo threes).

You were bummed that you couldn't be there when she broke the NCAA scoring record but one of your teammates got a video of you watching your girlfriend make history and posted it. It gained a lot of traction and was the first time they featured your relationship on any sports network.

When you found out Caitlin was heading back to the final four - you made it a priority to head to Clevland to watch. You were able to pull some strings and get courtside seats to watch your girl front row. You watched them play UConn and were stressed the entire game. This was some of the best defense you have seen a team put up against Cait. They came to fight.

Throughout the game you had people come up to you and ask for autographs and photos. It was neat to see it was a variety of both Caitlin's fans who knew you as her girlfriend and also your fans who have watched you since you started with the USNWT.

When the Hawkeyes pulled through and took the win - everyone flooded the court, making it almost impossible to find Caitlin. It was actually a handful of people in the crowd who helped you locate her. When you saw her, you ran straight up to her and wrapped your legs and arms around her. You knew what this game stood for - it was redemption from the previous year.

"THAT WAS AMAZING BABE!" You yelled right in her ear.

She laughs and spins you around, "I am so glad you were able to make it." She inhales you and is reminded of how much she misses you. "Do you have to leave?" She asks, only half-heartedly wanting the answer.

"Well knowing you were going to win this game and Coach not needing me back until Monday, I am staying to the final," you say hoping down from your girl but keeping your arms around her neck.

Caitlin brings you back into her and just holds you. As thankful as she is that her team just won, she is even more grateful that she gets to spend some time with you. Cait and the team only had a light practice the day in between games. The rest of the day was to be used as a rest day with the exception of a team dinner. You spent the day in Caitlin’s hotel room. Most of the time the two of you spent catching up on life and how each of you has been doing. She talked about her feelings about how she contemplated staying at Iowa for a fifth year versus going to the WNBA draft. The two of you had talked a little over the phone about it but there was something about having you there that really opened her up about all the thoughts she truly had. You sat there and listened to her talk - it was one of your favorite things to do. You could sit with her forever and be content.

She loved talking to you because you never pushed her in one direction or another, but would rather genuinely listen to her. And when she would pause to gather her thoughts, you would ask her questions to help her figure out what she wants to do and not what the media expects of her. You knew the last thing that she needed was someone else telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing.

When it was your turn to unpack - you talked about the shift from playing on the women's national team to a city team. It was a shift but one that was really nice. It felt like you were finally able to settle down somewhere and you were excited for her to feel the same and hopefully a little closer to yourself than she was at now. You missed being around her.

You continued to talk about how her team has been super welcoming and that you all instantly fit into the team. That was something Caitlin knew you were worried about signing with the Chicago Red Stars. She hasn't been out to one of your games yet but is hoping to before she goes into training.

That night you joined Caitlin at the team dinner. All the girls were happy to see you. It was great getting to spend some time with everyone - with Cait being on the team, you had become really close to some of her friends. Kate and Gabby were especially happy to see you.

You went to watch the championship game the next day - sitting right behind the team's bench. You watched your girl put up 18 points in the first quarter - breaking another record in her last collegiate game.

As the game progressed you saw how difficult it was for the Hawkeyes to put up points against the best defensive team in the league. But they put up a fight.

In the final quarter, you could see the hope in the team's eyes slip away as the momentum SC was gaining kept going. When there were only a few minutes left, you saw the shift in Caitlin's demeanor and knew that she was beginning to accept defeat.

At the one-minute mark, Coach Bluder pulled her starting seniors and allowed some of the other girls take the court. As Caitlin was walking off, she alongside Kate and Gabby went down the line of coaches and gave them each a hug. When she sat down on the bench, you couldn't see her face but knew she was struggling to keep it together. If there was anyone else in this stadium that knew how much she wanted this win, it was you.

It didn't come as a surprise when Caitlin sat right in front of you. You leaned down to her and placed your hand on her arm. No words needed, just a sign to show her that you were there. Her hand comes up and rests on yours, giving a little squeeze.

She spent that night in your arms. You tried to get her out of her head but weren't doing a great job of it. All Caitlin really wanted was to be held by you and that is exactly what you did.

You flew back to Chicago that Monday - feeling sad you were leaving Caitlin but know you left her in good hands with Kate and Gabby. Before leaving - Caitlin booked a flight to come out to watch you play in Chicago. You thought it would be a good distraction as well as nice to have her back in the stands.

When it was game day, you took the field for warm-ups, occasionally looking towards the stands to see where your girlfriend was watching from. It wasn't an easy task but you looked in all the typical places she would watch from when you were playing for the USWNT. When you couldn't find her in the crowd, you got worried that she wasn't able to make it. When you got back to the bench, you did a quick scan when one of the other girls came up to you and pointed to one of the boxes. Looking over - you saw Caitlin in the middle box talking with your team manager.

A smile makes its way to your face as you see them talking and laughing. Your team manager was kind of a hard-ass which would have you worried if it was anyone other than Caitlin. But knowing your girl, she could start a conversation with anyone.

Throughout the game, you would glance up to the box. You were met with the sight of either Caitlin watching intently or her talking with whoever else was there. You noticed one of the times she was talking to one of your teammate's wives. It was such a comfort to have her there.

At the end of the game, your team pulled through and took the dub against the Kansas City Current. As the team was celebrating you felt someone come up from behind you and spin you around. Knowing immediately who it was, when you were put down - you turned and jumped into Cailtin's arms.

"Proud of you babe," she says as she embraces you yet again.

"I am glad you were able to come," you say and grab her hand to introduce her to a few of your teammates.

The next day you see an article out about Caitlin coming to your game. It wasn't the first but it was the first that you saw circulate social media to this extent. It caught like wildfire and the next thing to know your following on IG went from 20k to 50k.

You didn't think much of it considering you don't follow the media really at all but thought it was cute and shot it over to Caitlin. She thought it was funny and criticized the photo they chose of the two of you.

The next thing you know, you are in New York getting ready for the WNBA draft. You are sharing a room with Caitlin and just sit in awe as your girl is getting dressed. She is the first to sport Prada for the WNBA and she is looking amazing.

Once she is dressed, the two of you head down. There are a few photos snapped of Caitlin on the way down, you follow closely behind her, trying to not get in the frame. That proves hard to do as she refuses to let go of your hand. At one point she looks back and gives your hand a little kiss before heading into the elevator to head down to the orange carpet.

The night went by in a blur. Caitlin is the first pick and is headed to the Indiana Fever. It was what both of you were prepared for and have honestly started planning for as well. You two started talking about how it would be so nice to only be an hour's plane ride away from each other (a 3-hour drive if needed).

Her crew celebrates by going out for some drinks and food. It was a fun night out with the girls not only celebrating Caitlin but also Kate who was drafted into the Aces. The two of you end the night back in the hotel.

The next morning, you started to get notifications and messages about the media calling you and Caitlin the new 'Power Couple' of the sports world. Before you could open anything on your phone, Caitlin was showing you hers. You looked at the post that Ovvertimewbb posted. It was the photo of Caitlin kissing your hand right before heading into the elevator with a caption on how you two are the couple to watch in and out of the game.

"So they are calling us the couple to watch," you say as you hand the phone back to Cait.

"Looks like it," she says with a laugh. "I have no idea what that means."

"Honestly, neither do I but we will find out," you say as you lean over to give her a kiss.

Throughout both of your rookie seasons, the media watches you both closely. You because you have been on fire, consistently playing record-breaking games and carrying your team to victory, and Caitlin because she is changing the game.

Now that the two of you are closer, going to support each other has become much easier. Once Caitlin started in Indiana, she was at almost every one of your games - almost always supporting you from your manager's booth. You always joke with her that your manager loves her more than they do you. Every now and again she would be standing fieldside, out of the way of course. The media tore up any time she was standing on the field or seen talking with your manager. It would always be something about how Caitlin is such a great girlfriend coming out to support you. Or it would be how your GM has found a new person to watch their team with, having a picture attached with your GM and Caitlin laughing about something.

The posts and articles went both ways. You went to support Caitlin whenever you could which then put you in the spotlight. It was unexpected to both of you how much the media ate up your support for each other.

It was when you were watching an interview that Caitlin was in that it began to click.

"Caitlin - you are projected to be rookie of the year, how do you feel about that?" The interviewer asks.

"I think it's pretty awesome," she responds with a smile. "Just like the work I have put in during my college career to get here, I have put in the work this season to be up for rookie of the year."

"Well, it is quite impressive, if I must say," the interviewer compliments your girlfriend. "But what is also impressive is that your girlfriend is also up for rookie of the year."

Caitlin just smiles and nods. She could say a lot (she will rarely brag about herself but when it came to you, she could talk up a storm) but just sits and nods. To everyone watching - it was a proud girlfriend moment.

"Seeing you go and support each other at games, getting the posts of your post-game meals with one another, and all the talk about how each of your teammates has become great friends with you and her, you have become the ultimate power couple in the sports world." Caitlin doesn't blush easily but she’s blushing now. "How has becoming this power couple affected your relationship?"

"Well it is kind of funny - neither Y/n nor I have really seen much of what has been going on in the media with any of it," Caitlin says.

It was true - the two of you tried your best to stay out of looking into the media like that. You knew it wouldn't affect your relationship in the slightest but never really cared for what other people said about the two of you. Outside of supporting each other during games the two of you led a pretty private relationship.

"Well let me show you a slim snippet of what the fans are saying," the interviewer says as they start flashing photos of you on the screen. "There are endless fan edits of the two of you while you are watching each other games. What really got me was finding a fan account that has been following the two of you since your college years."

Pictures of the two of you from their account started flying across the screen. Photos going back in time - it was a neat way to reminisce on the past and how far you have come.

At the end of the slideshow is a picture from when you played in your final home game for your high school - senior night. It was a picture of you and two other girls heading to the captain's meeting in the middle of the field. In the photo, it is you and your co-captains looking down but if you looked over to the crowd - there is Caitlin, front row with some of her friends there to watch you play.

Caitlin remembers the moment as if it was yesterday. She debated going to that game for weeks before it happened. She didn't tell you she was coming to your senior night but brought you flowers and she gave them to you afterward. That was the night that you had Caitlin falling even harder than before - getting so excited when you saw her. Causing her heart to leap out of its chest when you dropped all of your stuff to pick her up and spin he around. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her cheeks turned a deep pink - the first time you made her blush.

"Yep, that's me," she says with a laugh, turning even more red than before. "You could say we were fans of each other long before we started dating.'

"Well, that is the cutest thing!" The interviewer says with such excitement. "We are all rooting for the two of you and can't wait to watch you both as you progress in your careers."

Later that night, you call Cait. She picks up the phone immediately.

"I know, I know," she says, already knowing what you are going to say.

"You are too cute when you blush," you say with a little laugh.

"Ugh stop babe," she says laughing as well. "Did you hear when they called us the ultimate power couple?"

"I did," you say full-on laughing now. "It is crazy to see how many people are invested in our relationship."

You hear her hum in agreement, but she doesn't say anything.

"Hey babe, is everything okay?" You ask, worried that this is all starting to get to her. You know Caitlin doesn't follow the media like that but you wouldn't blame her if she fell down the rabbit hole after that interview. I mean, you did.

It wasn't intentional but after you watch the interview, curiosity got the best of you and you started looking at some accounts. Most of it was sweet - pictures and comments of how the world is cheering you on but with being in the spotlight more, there were also more people who used the platform to tear you down. It really didn't affect either of you - at least when people talked about yourselves. But you knew when people start talking bad about you on her posts, she gets caught up in her head about how hateful the world can be.

It takes her a minute but after what feels like a lifetime, she responds.

"You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing," she starts, causing your heart to swell. She begins to stumble on her words. "I - just thank you." She says. "Thank you for being so amazing not only to me but to the world. I can't wait until you begin your off-season and move here with me so we can finally be together. Then when you go back, and I am off, I will come and live with you and everything will be right in the world and we will get a dog and start planning our wedding and both be living out our dreams."

She pauses and you take a sharp inhale. The two of you haven't really talked about marriage - if you were being honest, you had no idea that was even on Caitlin's radar. It was on yours but you never wanted to rush her.

"What was that last part?" You ask slowly.

"Us living out our dreams?" She asks, knowing it is not what you are talking about.

"No right before that..." you say as it feels like time has stopped. The only other time you have felt this with her is the first game you played against her. She had been one of the only other players who could keep up to you and you let her know that after. Whispering the compliment in her ear and watching her react to your touch had stopped time for you.

"Start planning our wedding...?" Caitlin says extremely slowly. You are hooked on every single word she says as she repeats that.

"Caitlin Clark, are you asking me to marry you?" You say jokingly but also dripping with genuine interest.

"You are just going to have to wait to find out," she says and you can hear the smirk that has grown on her face.

Little did you know that Caitlin already had the ring. She knew she was going to marry you after you picked her up and spun her around on your senior night. It only solidified when the two of you started dating in college and were there to support one another during your sporting events but also just with life in general. Having you by her side wasn't an option. You pushed her to be better than she could have ever imagined. You brought her out of her head when no one else could. You let her be herself unapologetically and she couldn't imagine a more perfect person.

"Well just know, if you get down on one knee at either of our award ceremonies, I will say no." You say, trying to play it cool when your heart is beating faster than it does on the field.

Caitlin laughs and you join in, longing for the days when you can have these conversations face to face.

AN: I hope this does the request justice. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark masterlist #caitlin clark concepts #iowa hawkeyes #wnba

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

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imagine reader being Monster!Königs pet and him letting her follow him around during his daily tasks and all of a sudden she sees an old friend or family member from before monsters took over.

she hasn’t seen them in so long and gets so excited to see a familiar face. she tries to run towards them but because König keeps her on a leash she can’t.

he gets so confused as to why she cares about this random person so much. isn’t he all she needs?? why must she keep trying to escape?? only she’s not, she just wants to talk to her old friend and gets really sad and depressed when he doesn’t let her :((

(love your writing btw:)

I once tried to walk a very curious and very fat cat on a leash because my previous vet is a weird creature, and my cat was literally an unmovable fortress once he saw something he wanted to check. If anything, his fat ass was dragging me on a leash. So...Konig with a properly broken wifey. You don't give him a fuss when he forces you into clothes that barely covering anything - he is showing off your swollen tummy and round breasts, filled with milk, your nipples leaking constantly because the pressure of the eggs in your womb is making you dizzy and dumb. You're docile, obedient, you lay on his lap like a good girl and don't wander off when he is nice enough to show you around the base, He likes going on walks with you - as a very active monster, he still forces his pace to be a bit slower so your pregnant body could keep up, even though it's a sign of weakness from him. But..you stopped in your tracks, completely. He doesn't understand what happened - did you got injured?? On his watch?? Did someone attacked, also on his watch?? He is honestly disappointed when he saw another squishy human, trying to get to you out of the leash of their own. You better lie about your closeness to them - if you dare to say that they are your best friend or even someone bigger, Konig is fully getting you in his hold and forces you to get out of the person's range. You better lie about them really being a distant family relative - not like your monster husband cares about such dumb things as human relationships, but at least you could expect to get like...5 minutes of

#cod #konig x reader #konig #monster!konig

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ginasbaby · 2 months

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Hi nit of a weird request but can I request a Regina x reader smut based on the song dead girl walking from heathers? Like Regina knows she's about to loose her status either because of Cady or because she's about to be outed or something and comes over to y/n the day before. Idk why but I can't get the idea out if my head and especially the idea of Regina saying the line "hope I didn't wake you, see I decides I must ride you till I break you".

Thank u:)

Dead queen walking

Requested by anonymous 👍🏼

(Not a big fan of this one)

Regina George x reader;

A/n: Your welcome for the post! Thanks for the request, I hope this meets what you wanted- if not tell me and I’ll re-write!! I hope you enjoy the story!

Warnings: Smut with a bit of plot, Dom!regina sub!reader, thigh riding (Regina receiving), swearing. Lmk if there’s more!!

She stormed out the school, furious. Not only had the show gone wrong, but her social status had dropped. The next day would be humiliating for her. She didn’t even mutter a word to Gretchen or Karen. Not even they knew why the queen bee was angry. Sure they knew the talent show went wrong - but they didn’t think much about it. Then again, they didn’t think a lot.

“Bye Regina,” they both waved as Regina got into her very expensive, hot pink, jeep. Knowing that the hot-headed blonde would definitely not drop them off like she usually did, they walked along the path not uttering a word to each other.

^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^••^

As quickly as she could, Regina drove to your house, she thought that, somehow, you would be able to release some steam for her. She rapidly knocked onto the wood of what seemed to be Y/n’s door.

“Hello, Gina. What-“ the Y/H/C girl got cut off by a threatening but inmate kiss. “Okay, what’s wrong Gina?”

Regina still didn’t say a word and just closed the front door behind her. The troubled girl stormed her. The sweaty girl followed after her like a lost puppy.

“Gina, baby,” she said trying to grab the queen bee’s arm. When she finally managed to latch onto her arm she pulled her to look at the poor girl. Regina had mascara running down her cheeks and puffy eyes. The Y/S/C coloured girl close enough to kiss, moved backwards to give Regina some space. “Baby, really what’s wrong”.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, I decided I must ride you until I break you” she mumbled.

“What’s that honey,” y/n wipes away the falling tears.

“I-it’s just… Cady has been plotting against me the whole time, apparently, she’s been making me fat” she choked out a sob falling into the tired girl’s arms.

“Gina darling, I promise you didn’t wake me up, I was working out. And sweetheart I don’t care if you’re fat. I’ll still love you. And anyway, cady doesn’t matter just me and you okay?” her voice trailed off but was stopped with a passionate kiss. Y/n got pushed to the edge of what seemed to be her sofa. She finally knew what was happening and smirked into the kiss. When air was required they pulled back.

“You know you could have just asked if you were so desperate, I would have given you it,” her swollen lips formed into a small innocent smile.

Pushing herself onto her butt, she brought Regina forward placing an inmate kiss on her lips. She whimpered into the kiss when Regina bit her bottom lip, giving her a chance to slip her tongue in. Exploring all of her soulmates mouth. She brought her hands up to her peers rosy red cheeks and caressed them. She stopped for a moment and put their foreheads together. “Tell me when you want to stop, kay, cutie”. Y/n nodded eagerly - which made the blonde smile- she whispered a good girl which made the y/h/c girl smirk mischievously.

They both pushed their lips back against each other, Regina’s hands dropped down to y/n’s hips caressing them. Her mouth kissed her jaw all the way to her neck, sucking gently in the skin (just enough to leave a mark). A moan got caught in Y/n’s throat to which Regina squeezed her throat gently. Then the whimper finally came out as Regina found her pulse point and sucked on it. The bottom girl’s eyes fluttered shut waiting for further movement. But the she heard the movement go away from her. She opened her eyes and peeked through her eyelashes. The sight that beheld before her was Regina getting undressed. “No peeking baby” she giggled.

Regina peeled each layer off leaving y/n waiting impatiently. Once done, the blue-eyed girl moved towards Y/n and slowly uncovered her eyes.

"What's got you so horny Gina?" The y/h/c girl asked flushed but curious. The school star just put one finger to her lips, indicating for y/n to shut up. Regina slowly moved towards Y/nn, making her impatient. Quickly, she pulled Regina onto her thigh, Regina let out a whimper and threw her head back. Y/n, now that she has access, carefully bit down on her neck, licking to stop the soreness. Regina gripped onto her hair, tugging on it; smirking in satisfaction when the girl below her moaned onto her neck.

Subconsciously, Regina started to grind against the y/e/c girl her juices leaking all over her leg. Y/n guided her hands to help Regina hump against her thigh.

"Why-why are you still wearing these, baby," she moans out, tugging on Y/n's clothes.

"Just wait lovely." she gasped as Regina moaned on her pulse point, her movements getting sloppier.

"Y/n, m' gonna cum." She whined, chanting out her name as the liquids flowed out of her body, leaving Y/n's denim trousers dirty a nd sticky. Regina's body went limp for a moment as she regained her stamina. She pulled Y/n up shedding of her many layers and massaging her breasts.

"My turn babes". Y/n prayed that she could even walk tomorrow.

(Spoiler alert, she couldn't)

Like to support my page

#regina george x reader #reneé rapp x reader #divider by cafekitsune #mean Girls #mean girls 2004

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year

Text

With You (part 1)

next part || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Hi, everyone! This is not my first fic, but it is my first MK fic! I have been on Tumblr for ages, but never actually posted a fic here. (I know this account is newer. My much older one is my more personal blog).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader. No references to reader’s gender. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2890

Warnings: Angst, drinking, alcoholism, ummm cursing? Some kissing and stuff? No actual smut. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Marc was a little quiet lately. Strangely quiet, even for him.

After finishing your shift at the hospital and stumbling home exhausted, you were eager to see your fiancé, maybe even talk to him to see what was going on.

After a brief eternity riding up in the old lift in your building, you finally turned the key in the deadbolt and let yourself into your shared flat. As usual, one of the boys had left on a small lamp in the entry way, its incandescent glow the only illumination in the flat except for the florescent light of Steven’s fish tank.

Depositing your belongings on the entry table and kicking off your shoes, you quietly made your way toward the bedroom. But as you passed the darkened kitchen you heard a whispered, “Shit,” followed by the sound of a glass bottle landing on the countertop.

Marc.

He was drinking. Even with only the moon’s glow through the kitchen window, you could make out his preferred brand of whiskey.

In the span of a heartbeat, you took in the sight before you. Marc was facing away from you, as if he had been staring out the window, perhaps cursing the moon. Sweatpants hung low on his hips as if he’d made little effort to tie the drawstring. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt and the muscles of his back expanded with a labored breath.

Broad shoulders sagged as his fingers gripped the counter’s edge, his head bowed in what was likely shame. His curls tumbled forward, and you were certain that his long fingers had raked through them relentlessly in your absence, to be able to pull them from Marc’s preferred style.

God, he was beautiful like this, in the moonlight. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, and you wondered how he was able to bring this reaction out in you after four years as a couple. Still...you were worried.

“Marc?” You softly called, giving him a moment to hear your voice and acknowledge you before you attempted to touch him. Despite your loving and very physical relationship, he didn’t like to be caught off guard by anything - most especially not by touch.

He sighed so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“Marc--”

“I know,” he bit out, though his voice was soft, sounding insistent rather than angry.

You paused, confused. “What?”

His hand reached for the whiskey bottle, which he lifted and quickly set back down on the counter, shoving it away from him. The liquid sloshed but didn’t spill - he had already taken care of too much of it himself.

“I know,” he repeated, still refusing look at you, or even lift his head from its bowed position.

Fairly certain you knew what he meant, you clarified, “You mean you know you’re drinking?”

Huffing out a sigh, he pushed his fingers through his curls, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t want to face you like this. You had been through this - his drinking. It was bad at one point - drinking every night, passing out, getting into fights, but he worked hard and got sober. He worked so hard...

As far as you knew, this was his first drink in two years.

You were devastated on his behalf, but more than anything you wondered what could have caused him to pick up a bottle.

Finally, he turned his head to the side, granting you the view of his profile. “Yeah, I am. So let’s hear it.”

He was waiting for something from you. A lecture? Disbelief, anger, something.

Pausing to calm your racing thoughts, you tried to figure out how to keep from running to him, grabbing him, overwhelming him, smothering him with love and concern.

Impatient, he turned all the way around, leaning against the countertop to glare at you. You could barely see his face in the darkness, but you could imagine the grumpy glower he wore.

“Well?” He asked, sounding more defeated than annoyed.

Squeezing your fists together, you exhaled quietly. Whatever anger or disappointment he was expecting from you tonight, it just wasn’t there. All you felt was overwhelming compassion and deep concern. What had hurt your Marc so deeply? Who were you going to have to tear apart?

Easing toward him, you moved carefully, slowly, angling your body toward his side, ending up beside him. Placing one hand gently on his forearm, you felt it flex in nervous anticipation. He stopped breathing as your eyes flicked up to his.

“Are you hurt, Marc?” You softly inquired, not even daring to squeeze or rub his warm flesh.

Exhaling shakily, he quickly shook his head.

You rubbed your thumb across his arm, feather soft, that small point of contact searing your skin with yearning for him. “Is this okay, sweetheart?”

His chest rose with a pained breath. With a slight nod, his chin dropped down to his chest, unable to look at you anymore.

You dared to rub and down his arm then. Small strokes of your fingertips dancing on his flesh, soothing, not demanding. “Missed you today,” you said sweetly, momentarily ignoring what was clearly agitating him the most - what you would think of him breaking his two-year sobriety.

Truthfully, your concern was growing with every passing moment. But you knew Marc as well as you knew yourself. You could get nowhere with him if he didn’t feel safe. And was so safe with you. You would burn worlds down for this man you were about to marry.

“What are you doing?” he harshly whispered, recoiling only a fraction from your touch. “I almost finished the bottle.” A confession of sorts.

Gently giving his arm a final squeeze, you let go, after laying a soft kiss to his bare shoulder. Reaching for the bottle, you shocked the hell out of your fiancé by taking a swig, wincing as the strong liquid burned your throat.

“Damn,” you gasped, immediately taking another drink. “You didn’t save much for me.” Tipping the bottle again, you never got to your third swig before Marc ripped it from your grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t drink that shit.” He flung the bottle into the sink, where it crashed and broke. It definitely sounded more dramatic than it looked - he hadn’t tossed it very hard, but you still involuntarily flinched, which, of course, worried and upset Marc.

“Shit, baby...I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to...I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay, Marc, I’m okay,” you quickly assured him, moving fully into his personal space for the first time all evening. You decided to move and speak with confidence from here on out. He needed to know where you stood. Placing your palms soothingly on his broad, bare chest, you felt his thundering heart.

“Hey,” you whispered, gazing lovingly up into his frantic eyes. Repeating his name, you waited for him to look down at you, into your eyes, which he finally, reluctantly did.

“I’m sorry,” you softly soothed, reaching up to trace his jaw line with your fingertips. “I didn’t mean to upset you by having a drink.”

“Why?” he harshly whispered. “I don’t want you drinking that.”

You made a face, “Baby, you were drinking that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He jerked away from your touch. “So just say what you’re going to say. Just fucking say it.”

So he was waiting on a lecture. Or a fight maybe.

“Is there any more?” you asked as he began to pace the kitchen floor. He looked a bit like a caged animal - contained but alert.

He paused for a moment, almost snarling at you, but seeing your innocent, truly curious expression, he quickly decided that maybe you were really curious and not mocking him.

“Steven’s bookshelf,” he answered candidly. “The one by the closet - you know, the ones he never reads.”

You nodded slowly, pushing off the counter to walk that way. “Clever,” you replied. Marc was hot on your heels but said nothing else until you retrieved a second bottle of whiskey - same brand - and walked it back to the kitchen.

He assumed you would open the cap and pour it down the drain. He actually wanted you to. But all you did after twisting off the cap was take another long, burning swig.

Before he could begin to react, you asked, “Are you going to have anymore to drink tonight?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed the bottle from your hand and finished what he thought you had started. The amber liquid tumbled from the bottle, splashing in the sink and filling the air with its stale tang.

“What is wrong with you? Shouldn’t you be the one doing this?” He huffed, dropping the empty bottle to join the first, broken one.

“No, I absolutely should not be the one doing this, Marc,” you evenly responded. “I should not be pouring out the alcohol that you brought into our home. That is not my job.”

“Ah, there it is,” he snapped, his fists clenching as he leaned toward you, ready for a (verbal) fight. “Let’s hear it, then. Tell me how much I fucked up.”

“No.” Your voice was calm and you took a confident but small step backward. It was not a step of fear, but simply a way to diffuse the fight he was apparently expecting.

“Marc, you’re a grown man. I’m not going to scold you, or lecture you, or tell you what to do. And despite what you may have been expecting, I’m not going to fight with you. If you want to drink, you’re going to drink. There is nothing I can do or say to change that.”

He looked stricken. Were you giving up on him? Tears stung the corners of his eyes before he could stop them. He’d had a lot to drink and his head was starting to pound. If you weren’t even putting up a fight, he must have really screwed everything up.

“A-are you...are you going to leave?” He whispered, physically withdrawing, turning to brace himself on the countertop once more.

“No, baby,” you answered him evenly, confidently. “I will never leave you. Not unless you made it impossible for me to live here with you. But you wouldn’t do that. Ever.” Easing over to him, you gently laid your cheek against his bare back. “I’m your partner. Not your boss, or a god or a parent. We’re a team. If you’re hurt, I’m there with you. I’m here, Marc. I’m here.”

“But I fucked up,” he shook his head sadly, his voice breaking. “All that work, all that fucking work to stay sober and I...”

“Exactly,” you agreed, carefully sliding your arms around him from behind, watching for any sign of physical discomfort from him. “You made a choice tonight and you hate the choice you made. That’s all that matters. You’re the person that you answer to. What you say goes. If you want to do better for someone, it has to be you. Not me, not Steven. You. Nothing I do will ever change that. Nothing I ever say will keep someone from doing what they decide to do.”

You squeezed him gently. “So no fights from me. No lectures. But I’m not going to baby you either. If we’re going to drink, that’s the way it’s going to be. You and I can accept that reality or a different one. A reality with no drinking. That’s why I took the drink tonight. It’s just a drink. It’s not evil. It doesn’t have a motive. It’s just liquid in a bottle. It’s what you feel right before you drink -that’s what you have to ask yourself, Marc. What happened right then?”

His body seemed to crumple in on itself and he slowly sank down to the cool tile of the kitchen floor, his back pushing up against the cabinets as he shook his head sorrowfully.

“I can’t,” he gasped, tears trailing down his beautiful, moonlit cheeks. Shaking his head despondently, he turned his broken gaze to yours as you joined him on the floor. “I can’t...everything will change now, I just can’t.”

How could he do this to you...to Steven? He was trying so hard to hide everything he’d learned from Steven - that they were not alone in this body. That there was another. And Khonshu. Stupid, fucking Khonshu still had them enslaved. How could he ever tell the two of you? He had only known for two days and it was killing him inside.

“Come here, baby,” you soothed, reaching to pull him into your arms. Something had happened to set him off. You were certain of it now, more than before, and despite your calm demeanor, you were scared.

Your worries both eased and doubled when his body softened in your embrace and a British accent greeted your ears.

“Darling...what’s all this, then?” Steven asked you, nodding to his state of undress and your positions on the hard kitchen floor.

“Steven,” you breathed, pulling him in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sweetly replied, granting you a soft kiss. “You alright, love?”

Before you could answer, he shook his head slightly, “Bollocks, got a bit of a headache. Has Marc been drinking?”

The look on your face told him everything.

“Bloody hell,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Two years sober right down the drain.”

Honestly, the sobriety thing, although crushing for him, was not the highest priority right now. Something was wrong with Marc.

“Steven, let’s go to bed,” you decided, standing up and offering him your hands.

Several minutes later, you and your fiancé slid under the covers, freshly washed up and ready for bed.

“Steven,” you softly repeated his name, running your fingertips over his jaw line, the way you had done with Marc earlier. “I love you.”

“I quite love you too, darling,” he sweetly replied, kissing you softly. “Now tell me what’s the matter.”

“Do you...are you aware of anything going on with Marc?” you asked as Steven’s arms slid securely around you. “I think something’s wrong - like big picture wrong. We didn’t have a fight, like - I don’t think the problem is with us. Did something happen?”

Rubbing your back soothingly, Steven answered the best he could. “Not that I know of. Marc has honestly been a bit closed off with me lately. He is somewhat of a quiet bloke from time to time, but...yeah, I’m pretty certain he’s not been exactly an open book these last few days.”

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to think of what could have happened. “I’m sorry for putting you in the middle, my love. I try not to do that, but he was so upset tonight, and the drinking...”

“He..he didn’t upset you, darling? Or...hurt you? Did he?” His warm brown eyes darkened in concern.

“What, Steven, of course not,” you insisted, sitting up in bed. “You two would never hurt me, I know that.”

“Of course, love, but it’s just...” Steven hesitated, sitting up to join you. “Marc isn’t always at his best when he’s been drinking and...when I was holding you, just then, you--you’re trembling.”

It was true. You hadn’t realized it, but you were more upset than you’d realized.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you reached for your fiancé, whispering his name pleadingly as you climbed across his lap. Strong arms wrapped around your back, gripping you firmly as he pulled you into his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against your lips. “It’s alright, love.”

Feeling so safe in his arms, against his strong body, you pressed your lips against his, your fingers caressing up his neck, into his curls. Your body melted into his embrace as you slid your tongue over his. Admittedly, you were feeling a little desperate and Steven was most likely intoxicated, but it was heavenly to feel him pulling you into him as your tongues tangled, hands grasping to get somehow closer.

You went on like that for a short while, rubbing your body against his, sucking on his tongue the way he loved, fingers threaded through his curls, which made him almost feral. Lurching forward, he tumbled on top of you, ignoring the pounding in his head and running his hands up your bare thighs.

Despite how wonderful you felt, he paused, touching his forehead to yours for a moment of reprieve.

“Steven, are you okay?” You managed to whisper between kisses, looping your arms around his neck. “Your head still hurting?” You asked because you could tell he was holding back a little. You had been kissing for a while and his hands had yet to travel underneath your underwear or (Marc’s) oversized white t-shirt.

Easing his forehead down to your collarbone, Steven pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your chest. “Too much bloody whiskey,” he murmured. “Sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay. Feels good,” you breathed on his ear, which made him shiver.

“Didn’t mean to get too distracted, love,” he conceded, rolling off of you and rubbing his temples. “I know you’re worried about Marc. I am too, if I’m honest.”

There were no answers for you that night. Steven realized quickly that he needed some sleep and the two of you hoped that Marc might be there the next morning to give you some answers.

#moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #mcu #oscar issac fic

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 7 months

Text

Objects in Motion

Part 1

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.

It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.

Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.

You’re often overwhelmed.

It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.

There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.

The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.

How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?

Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies.

Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.

At least until now.

When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent.

It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.

Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.

You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.

You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.

Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.

Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.

You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.

You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.

You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.

Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.

The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.

Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning.

You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.

You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself.

You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.

“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner.

You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.

“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.

The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.

On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.

The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.

You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.

There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into.

The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.

You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.

A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.

A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.

On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.

Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.

You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.

It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later.

You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.

You want- like never before.

When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.

You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.

Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.

You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.

You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.

Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.

You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.

Three thousand.

The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.

You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it.

You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.

Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.

Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.

Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.

It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run.

He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.

He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.

There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks.

There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.

‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.

His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose.

He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.

He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat.

This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.

It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.

He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.

‘Dear Alpha,

I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.

P.S. You have a very nice scent.’

Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap.

He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.

All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.

It only makes him more curious.

Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.

His body goes rigid.

He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.

His omega.

He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.

The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.

He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.

There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment.

His omega, needing him.

A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.

He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.

Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.

He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,

Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.

His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.

He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.

He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.

He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.

He searches for days.

But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address.

She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself.

At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.

He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.

Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.

Hope.

Part 2

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #Alpha!Billy Russo #billy russo smut

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