#I need time to calm down because I feel like a minor inconvenience could make me have a breakdown rn

[pedgito]

please please PLEASE do a blurb of eddie fucking the reader and shes like struggling and saying “have.. to.. be.. quiet” while eddie is just cooing her telling her that she doesn’t/no one is home

author’s note: i will die on the hill of ‘struggling to be quiet’ fucking, thank you for coming to me ted talk and i hope you enjoy my poorly written smut.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex (pulling out), exhibitionism (sort of), eddie being a menace, just another reason to write depraved smut

word count: 1.6k

You were accustomed to the quickies that happened, more often than not, in the back of Eddie’s trailer—early mornings, late nights. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of fucking you in the back of his van anymore, feeling rushed and uncomfortable, and you deserved to be treated beautifully—not forced onto your knees in the back of some metal death machine, scrapping them up for the sheer idea of getting laid. You deserved a bed, at least—but the only downside to that, despite his lack of being a teen, Eddie still lived with his uncle.

And as often as Wayne was gone, he also couldn’t stay gone forever. Most of the time it could be managed without worry—Wayne was gone more evenings and nights, aside from the rare occasion he had a day off, but Eddie didn’t have any qualms when it came to you and when he needed you—and there really was no denying him, not when you wanted it just as badly.

His uncle doesn’t question when you start staying overnight, it’s not his business and he knows Eddie’s grown and level-headed enough to make good decisions—and you’re good for Eddie, he sees it in the way Eddie carries himself now and in the way he does everything possible to accommodate to you first—it really isn’t necessary, but Wayne raised him to be a gentleman and he’d be damned if he didn’t see that through.

Regardless, Eddie loves to catch you at the most inconvenient times—particularly the warm, summer weekends when Wayne was off, saddled up on the couch in the living room catching up on the latest sports game, television blasting through the trailer.

He knew. He had to.

Besides, Wayne had been nice enough to give Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer—and as a hormonal kid in his last year of high school, it was probably for the best.

He shuts the door with a soft click, the mix of his radio and the booming television drowning out everything else—still, when he fucks you, his hand is clasped tightly over your mouth to drown out every last moan he pulls from you.

Eddie loves it, face lighting up in excitement as you struggled to keep quiet, eyes nearly rolling back in your head at how hard he was fucking into you, panting his own soft breaths over the back of his hand, his face so close your eyelashes could touch.

“Fuck,” He groans brokey, voice cracking on his final thrust, pulling out swiftly to come over the soft expanse of your stomach, pulling his hand away from your mouth,“—baby—“

It’s too loud for your liking, springing up from your reclined position to clasp your hand over his mouth, his eyes falling shut as he tugs at his dick, working through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He mumbled something against the palm of your hand, another curse or filthy remark, you’re not sure—but you’re more than thankful to have muffled his mouth because there was no surviving the shame of having to walk back to the entrance of the trailer after this.

When Eddie finally calms down, releasing his dick to pull at your hand, he’s laughing—and you can’t help but look at him with absurdity, shoving gently at his bare stomach.

“Eddie,” You say in a hushed voice of warning, “are you trying to get us caught?”

“He’s not stupid,” Eddie replies half-heartedly, shrugging, “He probably went out for a couple smokes anyways—he usually does.”

“Still,” You stress, “If you can’t wait, at least don’t make it so fucking obvious.”

Eddie smiles, tipping your chin up with his forefinger, the curved metal of his ring bumping against the skin.

“You can always say no,” Eddie reminds you playfully, “It didn’t seem like you cared a few minutes ago.”

Your eyes narrow, trying to look as intimidating as you could despite your soft features, “I was trying to be quiet. You were being loud on purpose.”

“You feel good.” He defends weakly, “Sue me.”

You roll your eyes fondly, swatting his hand away gently.

“Well, for my sake, try a little harder please?”

Eddie agrees with cautious regret, knowing he definitely didn’t have enough self control, but if it was for you—he would. And it becomes normal after time, almost too easy, and Eddie takes full advantage of it.

You’ve never fucked in a storage closet, let alone at school, but it’s something you can say you’ve tried at least once—all thanks to Eddie’s steadfast determination. He’s even bold enough to fuck you in the bathroom of your parent’s home during a big dinner with other friends and family—and no one had a clue. Eddie always knew how to take full advantage of every situation, both a blessing and a curse.

But when the rare occasion does come, leaving you both alone for the night and Eddie free of his Hellfire duties, it’s like you don’t know how to handle yourself, forcing yourself to keep quiet out of habit.

You pull your bottom lip tight between your teeth, snuffing out the soft whines begging to escape, the slow, full thrust of Eddie’s hips overwhelming when mixed with his calloused fingers working at your already sensitive clit. He moans unabashed, tossing his head back to throw his hair over his shoulder, free hand gripping your hip like a vice, pulling you against him just as eagerly as he thrust into you.

“Love watching you like this,” Eddie says softly, voice shot from pleasure, “—look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart.”

You nod jerkily, agreeing with whatever he said at that point, brows pulling together in concentration, mouth falling open on a soundless gasp.

“What’s wrong?” He asks teasingly, tongue peeking out past his lips and near the corner of his mouth, smug as fucking ever.

“Have to—“ You pant softly, “have to be quiet, Eddie.”

Eddie pouts endearingly, pulling you against him in a rough snap of his hips, your hands grabbing at his messy sheets.

“No, baby,” He shakes his head, “—it’s just us.”

“But—“ You start to protest, but Eddie's hand comes to grab at your face, gentle despite his quickening pace, less restrained than earlier. “—what if your neighbors, you know—“

It was true, sound traveled far too well in the tiny trailer park—but Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I want to hear you,” Eddie tells you honestly, eyes falling upon your face, mouth gaping open in his grip, you nod slightly, “—unless you need me to force it out of you.”

And he could with no problem.

“Turn around,” He instructs softly, pulling out momentarily to adjust your hips until you push up onto your knees, face shoved gently into the mattress, “don’t hold back, baby.”

Eddie came in with a plan, sliding into you with ease, hips snapping at a hurried pace that had you gasping into the sheets, even then they were muffled, all semblance of thought and self control gone, practically drooling into his sheets at the brutal pace he’d set.

It isn’t enough for Eddie though, his hand winding into the back of your hair until it hits the root, yanking your head up tenderly—the strain is bordering on uncomfortable, but it’s worth it, the sound he releases as he thrusts into you with furious precision.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” He says in a haze, head tilted down to watch himself sink into you, squeezing at the dip of your hip, “squeezing me so tight, sweetheart.”

You nod, mumbling a soft “Uh huh,” in response, but it’s not what Eddie wants—he knows you have it in you, keeping it so calmly at bay.

“Am I making you feel good, too?” Eddie asks teasingly, another quiet nod, the motion weak against his tight hold on your hair. “Say it, baby—who makes you feel like this?”

“You,” You reply softly, pulling gently against his grip until he lets go, palms pressed against the bed to keep you upright, using your own momentum to slam your hips back against him, plunging Eddie so deep your vision feels like it goes spotty, “—fuck, you do.”

“Say it, sweetheart.” He instructs in a sweet tone, leaning back on his calves until you’re seated in his lap, “say my name.”

You gasp as his fingers reach around to find your clit in a desperate attempt to pull you to a quick orgasm—“Eddie.”

“Louder.”

You sob softly, the muscles of your legs twitching as the pressure builds, your body going white hot with euphoric pleasure as you come around Eddie’s cock, crying out a broken, “EddieEddieEddie—“

Eddie curses as he comes a few seconds after, over the swell of your ass, feeling desperate to catch your breath. He leans down a moment later, pressing a soft kiss to the middle of your back, running his hands along your arms gently. He lifts you up slowly until you can face him again, face at chest level from where he stood above you. His face is outlined by the low light of the room, another satisfied grin pulling at his face.

“Don’t act so innocent,” Eddie teases, “I knew you had it in you.”

You roll your eyes light-heartedly, shoving your fist against his abdomen gently, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist with ease.

“I never said I didn’t.” You counter and Eddie grins even wider.

It’s safe to say that Eddie goes out of his way to make sure the trailer is always cleared from then on, never depriving himself of such an experience ever again.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 23 - Squirting

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Cam!boy roommate Haknyeon x inexperienced afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 2K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), squirting, fingering, groping, dirty talk, livestream porn (?), choking (if you squint), Haknyeon referring to reader as “honey” majority of the time. Reader feels insecure for a moment. Proofread once, hope you enjoy!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: If you saw this being posted late… you didn’t… Anyway! Felt like the direction of this story needed to change but I ended up liking it a lot. We need more Hak fics in tbzblr! 😭

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

“This is a bad idea…”

You mumbled to yourself as you paced back and forth in front of Haknyeon’s room. Nibbling on your nails trying to find the right moment to knock on his door.

Your roommate Haknyeon (god bless his wonderful soul), was the best roommate you could ever ask for. He practically did almost everything you asked him and always did his side of the apartment chores on time.

He even paid for three-fourths of the monthly rent! Well, to be fair that money did come from his side gig… which was being a popular cam boy.

It wasn’t something he hid from you, he was very straightforward about it because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or suddenly catch him doing something you weren’t supposed to see.

Haknyeon was even worried the day you two talked about sharing the apartment that you might even back out as soon as he said what he does for a living. But you weren’t one to judge. Surprising yes but you held his hands that day and told him it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

And from that moment on Hakyneon was truly grateful for having you in his life.

You knew was one of his livestreams was happening at this moment. He told you his schedule as soon as you moved in just to avoid any inconveniences between you two.

You felt like you were gonna leave carpet burns from all your pacing. You mentally slapped yourself in the face and decided that it’s now or never.

You knocked on the the door three times waiting for his response. Before you could even knock on the door again you saw the doorknob turn slowly, making you even more nervous at how slow this was going.

“Hey!” Haknyeon greets you through the small crack, enough for you to see his flushed out face and the robe covering his body. “Did you need something from me?”

“I-uh.” The rehearsed words were getting stuck in your throat.

This was a bad idea.

“I’m not being too loud am I?” You can see the slight worry in his eyes.

“Oh no not at all! Not like that one time...” You blushed looking down at your feet.

“I- I was gonna- well, I was wondering-” You continue to stutter.

“Honey you’re scaring me, are you okay?”

“Shit you’re gonna laugh at me for this-” You cover your face with your hands as small tears begin to fall from your eyes.

Haknyeon quickly shuffles his feet to go out of his room for a moment. He gently grabs your wrists and pulls them away to see your face.

“Look at me.” He holds your face in his hands as you stare at the ground, trying not to make this worse than it already is.

“Talk to me please? What’s going on?” His thumbs caress your face. Somehow this gesture calms you down and look up him, his gentle eyes easing your rapid heartbeat. You let out a big sigh before finally saying what you needed to say to him.

“I-I watched one of your livestreams o-one night-” You pause for moment but you can already see Haknyeon’s cheeks slowly blush again like yours.

“-and well… I don’t really have much experience o-on those kinds of t-things…”

“I- I was wondering if maybe… maybe you could teach me how?” You look into his eyes waiting for his response.

Haknyeon’s eyes grew wider, he felt frozen in his place as soon as you asked him that question. You easily mistook Haknyeon’s silence as a form of rejection, making you cry a little more. Who would want you like that anyway?

“Never mind. This was a bad idea.” You tried to pull away from him, but his hold on your face became firmer, enough to signal you to stay put but not enough to hurt you.

His eyes suddenly soften and he lets out a sigh of contentment.

“It would be an honor to teach you-” He leans to kiss your forehead and you both giggle.

“Let me just wrap up my session and then I can-”

“Actually, I was thinking- if you wanted- you could do it during your live session…” You whisper.

“…Are you sure that’s what you want?” He looks into your eyes, making sure he heard you clear. You nod your head in response.

“I’m gonna need you to say words, can’t let you in my stream if you don’t give me your full consent. Are you sure about this?” He asks you once again.

“Yes. Yes I’m really sure about this.” You respond.

“Okay, let's go.”

“Sorry for the wait guys, but we have a special guest joining us tonight.” Haknyeon speaks to the camera, adjusting it lower so it’s only focused on his body. Gratefully, his cam shows were the type to never show his face so he made sure yours would not be seen too.

You're seen in the background but blurred out from how far you were from the camera. Already stripped down to your underwear as Haknyeon instructed you to do.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy.” He turns his chair for a bit to motion you to come forward. You take slow steps, trying to breathe slowly as you walk towards him. You can’t believe this was happening right now.

He held your waist and made you sit on his lap, already feeling his slightly hard erection under his boxers nestling between your ass.

“Now everyone, this is my friend. Can you say hello to everyone?” You show a small little wave and let out a small hi. You can already see a few comments saying how cute you are, how beautiful your body looks, and a couple of “it should’ve been me 😩”.

“Okay before we begin, my friend here asked me to teach her a few things. She’s new to all of this so please be nice in the comments alright?” He says to the camera before looking at you.

“What do you want to learn today honey?” His lips dangerously close to yours.

“Well… I wanna learn how to properly t-touch myself…” You shyly reply.

“Lucky for you, I’m the perfect person to teach you that. Isn’t that right everyone?” He smiles.

“Okay, just look at my screen as I teach you so it’s easier that way. Can you do that?” You respond with a small “mhm”.

Haknyeon tilts your head to face his as he leans to kiss you. And god do his lips feel like heaven.

He starts off with small pecks gradually turning them into deeper kisses. When he slips in his tongue and twirls it in your mouth, you instantly moan.

“Mmm..” He groans into your mouth, continuing to make out with you as his hands slowly go up to squeeze your breasts. The act making you squirm a bit on his lap, unintentionally rubbing your ass on his covered cock.

“You’re so pretty when you make those sounds.” He mumbles against your lips. “And they’re all just for me.”

He dives in to kiss your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and he unclasps your bra and pinches your hardened nipples. You moan even louder at how he touches you.

“You like that honey? Like it when I play with you like this?” His hot breath whispering in your ear.

“M-more…” You whine, your head starting to get dizzy from how slow and sensual his touches are.

“I’ll give you more, only if you say please-” He nips a sensitive part of your neck, making you yelp in surprise. “Please, give me more…” You beg.

“Such a good and behaved girl.” He licks the part he slightly bit.

You feel his hands sliding down the sides of your body until he hooks his fingers to the waistband of your underwear, signaling you to help him remove the small piece of clothing. After, his hands make their way to your inner thighs slowly spreading your legs apart. He gently runs two fingers between your folds, making you gasp at the sensation.

“Look at that everyone, see how wet she is for me?” He says in your ear but at the same time talking to his audience.

“Okay honey, open your eyes and look at the screen.” You do as he says, watching him slowly spread your folds apart with his fingers.

“You see this here?” He points to your sensitive bud with his free hand.

“This is your clit, think of it as a magic button. When you rub on it like this-”

He begins to circle your throbbing clit while still spreading your folds apart with his other hand for you to see clearly what he’s doing to you. “-it makes you feel really good.” You moan at the touch.

“You can move it slowly like this-” He continues to rub it gently. “Or… You can move it faster like this-” He quickens the movement of his fingers. You moan at the sudden increase in pace.

“Oh you like that? Like it when I make it rough?” He tuts.

“Yes, yes please, faster. Faster Ha-” You nearly say his name until he firmly grabs your throat, looking you with stern eyes to warn you about your little slip up.

You slightly panic at nearly revealing his name but at the same time your eyes start to become hazy at the pressure of his hand around your neck.

All you can hear are the coin sounds chiming from the livestream, audiences rapidly donating to the hot scene unfolding in front of them.

“Better behave honey, or else I can’t give you what you want-” He whispers for only you to hear.

You continue to pant and moan as he continues to play with your clit roughly, your arousal coating his fingers by the second.

“Feels so good…” You moan out.

“Can't believe I get to do this to you. Thinking about playing with your sweet little pussy while I fist my cock at night.” He groans, lifting his hips to push his hard bulge deeper into your ass.

“Please honey- Can I keep playing with you like this all the time?” He whines.

“Uh-huh.” You start to squirm in place, your hips rolling trying to get in more friction from his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” You shout, you shudder as your body becomes overwhelmed with all these sensations happening. Haknyeon continues to rub circles on your sensitive bud, making you squirm under his grasp even more.

“I-I don’t feel so good-” You whine. “Feel like I’m gonna- ugh!” You scream, suddenly crying moans echoing through the room as fluids gush out from your body.

“Oh fuck-” Haknyeon watches the sight before him. He just made you squirt for the first time… and in front of people watching too.

More pings and coin sounds chiming, you couldn’t read what the comments were saying by how fast they were moving but by the looks of Haknyeon’s face, you could tell it was a good sign.

Haknyeon’s fingers stop circling your bud, hands now soothing your inner thigh as he plants kisses on your neck.

“You did so good honey.” He whispers in your ear.

“Thank you.” You look at him with fucked out eyes as he kisses your forehead, your tired body laying against his.

“Looks like I'm out of business, everyone loves you instead of me now.” He smiles while pointing his lips to the screen. You try your best to read the comments but all you could remember seeing were things like, “🥵🥵🥵”, “she needs to be on the show again”, “get in line, she’s mine 😤”

“What do you think honey? Wanna be part of my streams?” A glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

When you nod he kisses you passionately, pressing your hips down to feel his aching cock against your ass,

“Good, because that was just the beginning…”

#deoboyznet #haknyeon smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #ju haknyeon smut #kpop smut #tbz hard hours

[undertheopensky]

We Are But Children 3

Whumptober Day 21: Restraints

Characters: Time, Legend, lil bit of Hyrule and Warriors

Trigger warnings: Violence to a child, mild body horror, minor character death, don’t worry it’s no one you care about, I was going to say it’s not graphic but SOMEONE had other ideas

Read on Ao3!

Late to the party? Read Part 1 and Part 2!

-----

Blinking, the newly-babyfied Time glances around. “Well this is inconvenient.”

Everyone’s tense, almost too afraid to breathe. Four had panicked and cried; Legend had panicked and grabbed a weapon. No one wants to know what Time will do - or accidentally scare him into doing it.

It’s Wars who approaches him. Calm, and smiling, and visibly praying he’ll be recognised. “Hey, bud. Nothing fazes you, huh?”

“Why would it? I’m used to portals and weird wizzrobes at this point.” Baby!Time squints at his own hands. “I admit it’s been a while, though.”

“Okay,” says Warriors. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mask?”

Baby-fine hairs glimmer in the firelight as the child raises one eyebrow. “Been a long time since you’ve called me that, Wars.”

Warriors’ face screws up, losing the steady gentleness that was making Legend’s hair stand on end. “What?”

“I’m fine, Wars, I didn’t lose anything. Weird wizzrobe, not the first time, I’m going to be very short for the next three days.” Adult!Time’s amusement at their bafflement looks creepy as fuck on Baby!Time’s face.

“Wait,” Legend demands, “why the hell does he get to retain his memories while I spent three days embarrassing myself?”

“I am the Hero of Time, you know,” says Baby!Time, with unbearable smugness for such a tiny child.

Legend makes an outraged noise. “Excuse you, I have definitely fucked around enough with the Harp of Ages to –”

Exactly what he was going to say is drowned out by Warriors squawking “LANGUAGE!” and clapping his hands over Baby!Time’s ears.

“He is thirty –”

“Ah-t-t-t! I don’t care! He is like seven and you will watch your language!”

Legend fumes silently but has to drop the argument.

Baby!Time wrestles Warriors’ hands away from his head. “I dunno why you bother, I already learned all the good curses from the soldiers.”

“I’m trying not to make that problem any worse, thank you.” Still, Warriors lets him go. “Now - you sure you’re okay? You’re not sore, or dizzy? You still remember everyone?”

“It’s strange.” Time spreads his arms like a bird. “I still have all my adult memories, and sensations, but they’re less… relevant, somehow. Not as close to the surface.” He takes a few steps, without so much as a wobble. “I don’t feel off balance, or anything.”

“That’s interesting, actually,” says Hyrule, wide-eyed. “When people go through growth spurts they’re often really clumsy until they get used to their new height or reach – I would have thought it would happen in reverse, too.”

Baby!Time nods thoughtfully. “It’s not, though. Maybe all the adult stuff is being held down by the magic too?”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Sky observes.

Baby!Time shrugs. “I did say I’m used to it.”

“I’m not,” says Warriors. He keeps rubbing at his eyes like they’re bothering him. “My brain is not coping with Baby!Time.”

“You could just go back to calling me Mask.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, if it makes you feel better,” Baby!Time says. “A nickname’s a nickname. You all call me ‘old man’ half the time, anyway.”

“Ohhhh, that’s so weird,” Twilight mutters, looking vaguely horrified.

Legend snorts. “All in favour of calling him ‘Mask’ for the next three days?”

“Aye,” comes the chorus.

“Well if that’s settled, can we maybe make a plan on what to do next?” asks Wild. “Because I definitely saw some of the moblins making a run for it while we were distracted with the wizzrobe.”

“Can’t leave those running around,” Wars agrees with a sigh. “Twi, see if you can fetch Wolfie, we’ll need him for tracking - wait, fuck. Mask. Twilight can you introduce Mask to Wolfie while you’re at it? I know he’s great but he’s a wild animal and I do not want any mistakes.”

“Sure thing,” says Twilight, with an impressive lack of inflection. “C’mon, kiddo.”

Baby!Time - Mask - shrugs, and runs after him.

They don’t catch up with the monsters that day, despite Wolfie’s best efforts, and make camp deep in the woods when they lose the light. Wolfie could have kept leading them - he’s not following visible sign, after all - but no one wants to wander blindly into an ambush.

In the morning, Legend rouses to the not-unfamiliar dulcet tones of Warriors cursing. “Why are you allowed to swear and I’m not?” he says.

Warriors makes a strangled noise of surprise. Legend grins, still without opening his eyes. “Because until three seconds ago I thought I was the only one awake!” he hisses. “Goddess above, Ledge!”

“Not my fault you have shitty situational awareness,” says Legend, and sits up. “What’re you swearing at?”

Warriors gestures angrily with the flopping leather in his hand. “My boots don’t fit!”

“They can’t possibly have shrunk overnight, and I doubt your feet have swelled that much, they’re not your head.” Still, Legend leans over to take a look. They… definitely look too small. And too short, actually. Wars has fully fitted calf-length boots with buckles for plates to be strapped on; these would barely cover his ankles even if they were the right size. What the hell?

While they puzzle over this the rest of the camp has started to wake up. Twilight - always up with the sun - is gently shaking Wild, while the champion mumbles a constant litany of ‘five more minutes’. Sky is yawning and stretching. Hyrule, last on watch, is packing away all his gear and making sure Sky doesn’t fall asleep again.

“What are you guys doing?”

They both look up. Wind’s standing over them, trying to look stern and managing something closer to ‘delightedly baffled’. “Where’d you get those shoes, Wars? Why? They’re never gonna fit you! Do you have a kid we don’t know about?”

“What?! No!” Warriors makes a garbled noise, caught between embarrassment and indignance. “Why would you even -? No, they’re not mine! I don’t even know where they came from!”

Wind huffs. “Then whose are they?”

“I suspect they’re mine,” says Four, stumping over in boots that are clearly about six sizes too large.

“How the fuck did that happen?” says Wars. They’d been sleeping on opposite sides of camp, for Nayru’s sake. There’s no way their boots could have gotten mixed up in the dark.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, just gimme my shoes.” Four kicks off Wars’s boots and grabs his own, sitting down to put them on properly and adding, “You better not have split any of the stitching with your massive clodhoppers.”

“I stopped trying when I couldn’t even get my toes in!”

The bickering would probably have gone on a lot longer if Hyrule hadn’t started making anxious noises about getting a move on. It’s not safe to stay in one place for too long in this area, he tells them. And he is the expert, so they get a move on. Wild hands out rice balls. It’s not the first time they’ve had breakfast on the go.

It sends a bit of a jolt down Legend’s spine, every time he glances up the line of heroes and doesn’t see Time’s broad frame near the front. It’s disconcerting.

Mask doesn’t have the same movement patterns, either. Besides the obvious, not being Time, he also doesn’t lead the pack. He follows at Warriors’ heels, or sticks close behind Twilight, or walks so near to Hyrule it’s a miracle he doesn’t get stepped on.

Then Sky turns around to ask Wind a question, spots Mask, and nearly trips over himself with a shriek.

The whole party stumbles to a halt.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was there!” Mask says, while Sky frantically tries to apologise for almost stepping on him. “I’ll be more careful, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, it keeps happening.

Legend wonders about that. Mask had said his adult memories were less relevant, somehow. Does he feel more vulnerable, as a child? Like he needs to be closer to the adults to be safe?

Whatever the case, it’s fucking annoying. Four startles badly whenever Mask’s shadow falls on him – towered over by even the literal child. Warriors jumps about a foot in the air when the wind briefly tangles his scarf around Mask and he feels it tug. Wind offers to give him a piggyback ride, since that’s clearly what he wants if he’s standing so close, which lasts a hilarious but short five minutes before Wind admits defeat. Mask is small, but there’s a lot of muscle under his tunic.

Finally, after Wild does an awkward somersault to keep from landing on the boy, Twilight comes up and plops him on Epona instead. Mask seems happy enough with this arrangement. Legend just breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to worry about the kid stepping on his shoes anymore.

They make good enough time that by evening, they don’t need Wolfie dropping in and out to keep them on the right track; the trail left by the fleeing monsters is enough for any Hylian eye to follow. At this point, though, they’re even more suspicious of an ambush.

“Everyone okay with stopping for the night?” Warriors calls, as the sky fades to duller shades of orange.

“I’m hardly going to complain,” Sky says, slumping almost on the spot. He’s nearly grey under the flush of exertion. Their pace has been a little much for him, though he hasn’t said a word of complaint. Legend marks that, and hopes they catch up tomorrow.

Wind also collapses more or less where he stands, and starts pulling his boots off. “I hate walking,” he complains, not for the first time. Unlike Sky, he will gleefully inform the world at large of every small discomfort. “Give me a boat any day. Ugh! I have blisters!”

“Were you wearing socks?”

“No! They’re itchy!”

“For the love of Nayru, sailor…”

While Wars patches him up and scolds him over foot care, the rest of them set up camp. “No fire tonight,” Wild tells them, “smoke’s too much of a risk.”

Legend makes a face - cold dinner tonight - but no one argues. It’s at least not cold cold out here. Their bedrolls will be warm enough without the need for a fire to keep from freezing to death.

As Twilight hauls his bedroll down from Epona, he staggers a bit under its weight. And it’s bulky, for sure, but not heavy, not to someone who slings goats around for a living. He must be tired from running back and forth all day long. Legend keeps an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t collapse or something, but Twilight’s just frowning as he lays out the thick padding, struggling with it more than usual. Then, he flips open the top layer.

His bedroll is full of rocks.

Twilight stares. So does everyone else. “What the hell?”

It’s not easy to read Adult!Time - he nearly always looks placidly amused.

Mask’s poker face isn’t nearly as good. Despite having all Time’s control and experience, the softness of his face gives him away. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips go tight trying not to smile.

Twilight spots it immediately. His eyes narrow. As he turns to flee, Mask starts laughing, which both gives him away and makes escaping impossible. Twilight catches him with ease.

“You little gremlin!” Twilight shouts over Mask’s laughter. He shakes him, gently, where he’s dangling him upside down by his ankles.

Mask seems unconcerned by this. He’s still laughing, gleeful and unrepentant in the face of Twilight’s brotherly wrath. “Your face! That was the best, I’m so glad I didn’t do it to Wars he’s so boring about people messing with his bed -”

“What gets me to sleep faster, freaking out about it or fixing the problem?” says Warriors, without looking up.

“See?” Mask complains, giggling as Twilight shakes him again.

“You little gremlin,” Twilight repeats. “I can’t believe you. Come on, then, you’re helping me get all the rocks out.” He flips Mask the right way up and scrubs a rough but friendly hand through his hair.

“‘Kay,” says Mask cheerfully.

It’s not a difficult task - all they really need to do is upend the bedroll and shake it out. Mask hadn’t used any stones smaller than a thumbnail so there was no worry about things getting caught in the corners, and they were all too smooth to damage the fabric. The bedroll is clean and ready to go in less than five minutes. Twilight sighs in relief. “Alright, menace, I’ll let you off the hook - but don’t do it again, y’hear?”

Mask blows a raspberry at him. “It’s no fun doing the same thing twice!”

Then he runs off, jumping on an unsuspecting Wind with a war cry.

Ignoring the wrestling match that breaks out, Twilight asks, “Was he always such a hellion?”

“I think he was actually worse,” says Wars.

-----

This time Legend comes to with a massive fucking headache. Also, the floor is moving, which he does not appreciate at all. It’s making his stomach feel so much worse. He groans in protest, and hears an answering groan from nearby. Fuck, that means he needs to wake up more and be functional.

What had happened? The expected ambush hadn’t been challenging. The moblins were black-blooded, yes, and smart enough to set up shop in the least defensible spot in the region so the Chain had no cover when they attacked, and wound up split off into smaller groups. But between his ice rod and Hyrule’s Thunder spell they’d cleared out the moblins, and the out-of-time lizalfos that showed up to investigate, and he, Hyrule, and Mask had been headed for the last place they’d seen the others when -

Nothing.

So something probably happened in that nothing.

Goddess, his head hurts.

Thinking about it isn’t getting him anywhere, so Legend braces himself to crack open his eyes.

Fortunately, it’s dark, so his head doesn’t do more than thump briefly about the new stimulus before settling down to sulk. Hyrule is the first thing his eyes catch on.

Even in the dark it looks bad. He’s an awkward tangle of limbs in unconsciousness, blood all through his hair and tunic torn over an untreated wound, stirring vaguely when Legend calls his name. Through the gloom, Legend can tell his eyes aren’t quite in focus. Damn. “C’mon, Rulie,” he coaxes, “talk to me.”

Hyrule groans again. “M’head…”

Yeah, that’s fair. Legend looks again at the blood, reminds himself that Hyrule’s at least mostly conscious, and tries to shake off the nausea. Though maybe that’s from the rocking floor. Hopefully Mask at least had gotten away -

“What hit me?” Mask grumbles from behind him, and there goes that hope.

“Fuck this shit,” Legend says, or slurs, rather, and fuck, Rulie’s not the only one with a concussion. No wonder his head is killing him. He tries to roll over - and realises his hands are trapped behind his back, hard-cold-biting-edges pinning his wrists together. His blood goes to ice.

The darkness – the moving floor – the restraints –

It all adds up to captured.

Hyrule’s in the middle of the same realisation – foggy eyes going wide with panic. He thrashes, fighting whatever has his arms pinned, booted feet thumping against the wooden wall.

It’s instinct to lunge forward. Legend discovers too late that his manacles are actually hooked to something, brought up short by the yank in his shoulders. He curses instead, and tries to calm him with words alone. “Easy, easy Rulie, it’ll be okay, we’ll get out of this -”

Hyrule kicks the wall again.

“Please Rulie you’ll hurt yourself -”

The floor jolts to a stop.

Hyrule gasps. Legend’s stomach lurches – partly from the rolling motion ceasing, partly from anxiety at whatever was about to happen. The manacles dig in painfully as he leans back on his arms to roll into a sit. (And ignores the way his vision goes white, then black, then slow, spotty grey, as the pain crests and fades back.)

Footsteps, muffled; crunching on gravel, coming around to the door of the carriage. There’s a long moment of rattling metal. Keys in a lock. Then the door swings wide.

Legend doesn’t let the blinding, nauseating light stop him from barking, “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

Shackled to a wall, concussed and listing, he doesn’t make for a very threatening picture. He only gets laughter in response.

“Whad’you even want with us?” he demands, all too aware of the two behind him. Just as trapped, just as helpless. He’s the oldest, here, the veteran hero; it’s up to him to find a way out.

The bandit grins at him, silhouetted in the doorway.

“Knew we’d get a good haul outta you, didn’t we? At first we was just gonna take your magic stuff. One good quality fire rod can go for thousands to the right buyer. Then we saw ya throwin’ lightnin’ around, an’ realised - just how much more would we get, for real live magical creatures? Ones pretendin’ t’be Hylian, walkin’ among civilised folks? We ain’t dealt in live cargo in a while, but we still got the stuff for it.”

Legend’s only half-listening. As he adjusts to the glare outside he’s scanning and assessing, and does not like what he sees.

A least eight people visible, all in the same sort of hard wearing, mismatched clothing. More surrounding the cart; he can hear muttering and laughter from out of view. Everyone’s hard-eyed and alert, and everyone’s armed. Not with the usual rusty shit bandits tend to scrounge up, either. There’s quality steel on some of those backs. Not good.

“You should let Mask go, then,” Legend argues. “He’s just a kid - he’s got no talent for magic.”

The bandit snorts. “Anyone who can keep up with things like you two’ll be worth somethin’. And those marks? If ‘e ain’t fae-touched, then I’m a chuchu.

“We’ve got a long ways to go yet, so just sit back an’ enjoy the ride. An’ quit kickin’ the walls – ain’t no one out here to hear you, an’ I don’t want you damagin’ the merchandise.”

With one last black grin, the door to the carriage slams closed.

“Well that sounds like bullshit.” Mask sits up, and Legend sees that he’d been bound in rope rather than iron. He hopes, vaguely, that that means these fuckers don’t usually capture children-sized people, and so had to improvise. Whatever the case, it meant a flexible, squirmy child was able to wriggle free, before the carriage even lurches back into motion. “Obviously we’re not gonna stick around here, so what’s the plan?”

“I want my shit back,” says Legend, doing his best not to slur the words. “An’ I’d rather not go through the black market for it.”

“We probably shouldn’t leave these guys to steal things and sell people, either.” Mask makes a face. “No offence, though, you two look like shit. You’re in no condition for a fight.”

Legend growls, but can’t really argue. His headache has not been improved by the rising stress of the situation. If he tried to stand up right now, he’d probably fall, and maybe pass out into the bargain. Hyrule has blood running down his face from the blow that knocked him out, and Legend suspects his successor feels even worse than he does right now. The kid’s barely even following the conversation. “So, what? Think you can jump out of here and find the others in time? Don’t even know where we are.”

“Nah, I’ve got a better idea.” Mask frowns, then, chewing his lip in a way that Warriors would definitely have scolded him for, before saying, “Don’t freak out, okay? Wars always does, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“That is the most concerning thing you could possibly have said,” says Legend, but no one can reach to stop him as he shoves a hand down his own tunic to reveal –

A carved wooden mask.

That’s hardly surprising - Adult!Time has quite the collection, after all. Though why Baby!Time had opted to stash one in his tunic is anyone’s guess. It’s also not one Legend’s seen before. Shaggy white hair, the angles of a Hylian face marked with bright colour, and dark voids where the eyes should be.

A chill runs over him. “Mask - what is that thing?”

Mask hesitates. “Don’t freak out,” he repeats, lifting the wood to his face.

“Mask stop!”

Too late. Mask curls in on himself and keens, high and strangled. There’s a crunching sound like bones underfoot, the squelch of raw meat tearing.

Legend’s shouting. Hyrule’s struggling against the shackles to come and help. But they can’t reach him. Mask is alone, as the sickening noises stop, and his stifled cries go quiet.

“Mask?” Legend calls, suddenly and terribly afraid. “Time?”

Slowly, he turns, and Legend tries not to be visibly alarmed. He’s – too tall to be Mask, and too short to be Adult!Time; he looks Legend’s age, despite the shock white hair. But it’s not that, or the hair, or even the newly-mirrored markings on his face that make his stomach turn. It’s the eyes – pure white, and strangely reflective, like polished porcelain.

They’re empty.

The – being – Legend’s not confident calling them ‘Time’ anymore – glances around the carriage as if taking it in. Their head tilts. Considering. Then, they put one hand over their shoulder to grasp at the air like they’re grasping for a sword. And suddenly there is a sword, nearly as long as he is tall, with two blades intertwined in a strange spiral pattern.

Legend breaks out in a cold sweat.

Fortunately, the being’s not even looking at him. All the intensity of their focus is on the door, contemplating it like a complex dungeon puzzle. Legend’s almost too afraid to breathe, lest it draw the looming mountain of their attention.

Their other hand goes up to the hilt, and they draw.

Legend can’t help it - he scrabbles back, feet slipping on the cool wood. The being doesn’t so much as glance his way. They lift the blade, studying its smooth curves, with no sign of the effort it should take to lift its bulk, and their head tilts again.

Then the sword flashes, and wood explodes outward.

Bandits scream in surprise. Legend can’t see; between the blinding light and the splintered remains of the door his view’s restricted to a sliver, but the being is no longer in the carriage with them and there’s all the sounds of a fight outside. He curses and struggles with his manacles again. Legend hates feeling useless, but here and now, all he can do is listen to the screech of metal on metal, the shouts and curses of the gang, and strange, wet-sounding thumps as heavy things hit the ground and don’t get back up.

Something strikes the cart with enough force to set it rocking. It’s followed by the distinctive sound of a blade thrust into flesh, a boot sucking free of deep mud. Hyrule jolts at the noise, and squints across the wagon at Legend to check him for injury. Legend would laugh if he wasn’t wound so tight.

Eventually, things go quiet, except for the nervous stomping of the carthorse. Legend’s heart is thundering in his ears. He feels like he was the one fighting, the way his breath comes in short, trembling huffs. And with the shouting gone there’s no way to tell what’s happening -

There’s a noise of irritation. Then there’s a crunch, and what’s left of the door wrenches free, letting sunlight stream in unimpeded. Legend squints, but doesn’t turn away. (Hyrule does, burying his face in the floor. Kid must have one hell of a headache.)

The being with Time’s face appears. They are, not unexpectedly, doused in blood. More unexpectedly, the flat expression has relaxed into something not quite like a smile.

It is not reassuring.

The being hauls themselves up into the wagon. Hyrule grunts at the vibration of their boots hitting the floor - now that Legend’s looking, they’re wearing half armour, plates over the chest and legs and heavy armoured boots, completely unlike the child’s tunic Mask had changed into.

“Time?” he tests, deliberately rocking up onto his knees.

As planned, the being’s eyes shift from Hyrule to his movement. “I am not the Hero of Time.” Their head tilts, identical to the way they’d looked at the door, seconds before it turned to matchsticks. Somehow, though, Legend’s not afraid. The sense of constrained energy that had set his teeth on edge just… isn’t there, anymore. “You are bound. I will release you.”

Using the massive sword as a cutting tool seems like overkill, but it gets the job done. There’s a shriek and a crack, and some of the pressure on Legend’s hands releases. When he pulls them around, the band of metal holding the manacles together is cut through.

“If you’re not Time, or - Mask, then - where is he? He better be okay.” The last part comes out forlorn instead of aggressive, which pisses him off.

“The Hero of Time is asleep, young one,” the being tells him. Hyrule’s restraints get the same treatment, letting the dazed hero sit up properly without the chains caught up around their mooring pole. “He will not wake until my task is done.”

“And what is your task, exactly?” Legend moves to check on Hyrule - he’s been way too quiet, even after riding out a panic attack.

“To fight until the fighting is done. That is always my task: to fight the battles the Hero of Time cannot win.”

“Wait, so if he’s had you in reserve this whole time, why hasn’t he ever used you before now?”

The thing wearing Time’s face smiles, slow and cruel.

“He knows better than to call on me for such paltry matters. The cost would be far too high.”

Legend’s heart freezes. “Cost?”

“I am a god of war. And war always takes its price. Where it gets it is of no concern.”

“What kind of cost? If you’ve hurt him -”

“The Hero of Time has always been very aware of the price some things demand. For that reason alone, he would have been one of my favoured.” The being sighs, still smiling that terrifying smile. “But… my work is done, and the penance is paid. Farewell for now, heroes.” They lift one hand to their familiar-alien face.

The change back is quicker, somehow. A rush of air and magic power draining away, and suddenly it’s Mask’s hands holding the carved wooden face, smiling up at Legend. He looks tired, but not wrecked, as Legend had feared when he’d heard the enchantment boiling to life through his bones. “So, was he nice to you? He better have been. I yelled at him the last time he scared Wars.”

“I don’t think ‘nice’ is the right word to use,” says Legend, still a little stunned.

Mask groans. “Did he at least solve our bandit problem?” He hops back out of the wagon to check. Legend, after taking a moment to collect the still-unsteady Hyrule, follows.

Outside is sheer carnage. It’s less ‘bodies’ than ‘pieces’, and Legend has to look away and swallow hard. He’s not used to this kind of aftermath - doesn’t usually fight people, just manifestations of hatred that can’t hold corporeal form once killed.

There’s so much blood.

Mask ignores it with an ease that Legend’s going to find upsetting later. He leads them around to the front of the cart, where the carnage is less; the bandits had all rushed to the main source of the fight, not hung around waiting for it to come to them. The bay mare hooked up to the wagon snorts at them, eyes and nostrils wide.

“He left the horse alive,” Legend says blankly. He’d heard it, even after the sounds of battle faded, but somehow hadn’t quite conceptualised it.

“Well sure. It’s not her fault she was owned by assholes.” Mask steadies the mare with a few gentle words and a firm hand on the bridle. “Besides - she can carry us a lot further and a lot faster than we can go on foot. Now c’mon, help me search this thing for our bags, ‘cause if they dumped them somewhere it’s gonna make our lives so much harder.”

Legend does in fact find their packs, in a poorly-hidden compartment under the driver’s bench. Which is great, because now he doesn’t have to go hunting his gear down. It’s even better because there’s still half a red potion in here somewhere with Hyrule’s name on it.

Hyrule’s eyes clear as the potion does its work, though there’s still a visible knot above his ear. “Legend, what - you okay?”

“He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine except the bad guys,” Mask interrupts. “More importantly: how are we gonna get back to the others?”

“I say we head back the way we came and make a decision when there’s a split in the road,” says Legend. He really just wants to be done with this day. Sleep sounds fantastic right now, so it’s a pity he’s got long hours piecing together the bandits’ route ahead of him. He hates backtracking. Backtracking on other people’s bullshit is even worse.

The horse doesn’t care about backtracking; the horse is all too eager to leave the blood-soaked stretch of road behind them, once they get her turned around. In hindsight, Legend’s really glad she didn’t take off when people started dying loudly and messily nearby. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he also doesn’t fancy being chained up in the back of a runaway cart.

Miracle of miracles, they’ve been on the road less than half an hour when they start seeing flashes of colour through the trees. Hyrule squints. “Is that Four?”

“Aaand Wolfie,” says Mask with a sigh, as frantic barking becomes audible.

“Thank Nayru, Din and Farore,” says Four, flinging himself off Wolfie when the canine skids to a halt. “We were so worried, are you all alright, are those manacles - fuck, Ledge, you’re bleeding -”

“What, still?” says Legend blankly, touching fingers to scalp.

Wolfie glances up from where he’d been sniffing noses with the carthorse and gives a disapproving ‘boof’.

“Shut up, there was more important shit to deal with,” Legend tells him.

Four makes short work of the manacles - someday Legend’s going to ask just how he manages to keep a mini-forge on his person at all times - and he’s just pulling off the last one when the rest of the group comes jogging up.

“Goddesses, Mask, what happened?!” Wild exclaims. “You’ve got -” he gestures to his face - “all over!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he does that when I’m little.” Mask runs an absent-minded finger over one blood-marked cheek. “The markings are protective. In places where they’re known, bad guys won’t risk touching me. Even Ghirahim thought twice, and he was a grade-A creeper. Sorry, Sky.”

“Why are you apologising, you’re right,” Sky protests. “Also what’s this about you dealing with Ghirahim, oh my god-”

Honestly, Legend hadn’t even noticed that when the being faded away to leave Mask in their place, the facial markings had stayed, instead of the half-version he was used to seeing on Time. He touches his head again with a frown.

“Legend needs a potion!” Hyrule calls.

“Hyrule needs another one!” Legend shoots back.

Warriors rolls his eyes and hands them both a bottle. “Things must have been pretty dire if he had to use the Fierce Deity, and to be honest you both look like hell.”

“Fuck you too,” Legend grumbles. In truth, the potion is working wonders on the stabbing pain behind his eyes. He hadn’t even realised how sore his neck and back were until it all starts to fade, leaving him wrung-out and tired. It’s almost worth the horrible bitter taste, not at all hidden by the wildberries Wild had tried adding.

While they were getting medic-ed the conversation had gone on without them, which means Legend is treated to the hilarious and context-free picture of ten-year-old Mask being toted around on Sky’s hip like a four-year-old. Mask is clearly resigned to this, if not exactly pleased.

He’s even less pleased when Warriors starts questioning him. “So what’s this I hear about letting Fierce Deity out to play without a minder?”

“Oh come on, he’s fine!”

Legend thinks back to waiting chained up in near-darkness, wet gurgles and the choked cries of the dying outside with no way to know if they would be next, and has to hold back a shudder.

-----

Inspired by this amazing piece of art!

#whumptober 2023 #linked universe #lu time #lu mask #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu warriors #just a bit #skies writes #as usual not supposed to get this long #i stg NO ONE wanted to shut up #this took FOREVER. #i am not entirely happy with this but i also very much am sick of looking at it #day 22 my beloved here we come!

[xinmin-exe]

(Hey there, I really liked the headcanons about the LoV that you posted. So... I want to ask if you also do requests? :)🤍)

And if so, can I request a fic/headcanons about Shigaraki and reader who apologize a lot? Even if it's not their fault? (Like when the League broke something in the bar and the reader is the first one to apologize for everything)

Hello Love! Yes, i do take requests! It's been a few years since I've written a fic so I may be just a little rusty, but I hope you enjoy! (also, if you see any mistakes let me know! This isn't proof read or anything)

Shigaraki with Reader who apologizes all the time

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Shigaraki is a simp and OOC, AFO because that bitch is a warning by himself, shouting (at reader and others), throwing things (no one is hurt), brief mentions of depression (not eating, not getting out of bed, etc)

Shigaraki Tomura wasn’t known to apologize for anything. Growing up with AFO, he couldn’t apologize. Shigaraki had to be perfect, or at least pretend he was. So when you stumbled into his life, he was thrown off. How could you, someone so perfect and kind and gentle as you love him? It was a mystery to Shigaraki and to everyone. To him, you had no flaws, well, you had one flaw. You apologized for everything. Oh, they ran out of vodka? You’d apologize. Toga almost ripping Spinner’s head off? There you were, apologizing for that. It confused Shigaraki. He saw you as perfect, actually perfect, so why did you apologize so often? You never needed to apologize for anything, yet at every minor inconvenience you did. At first, he thought that you were nervous being around everyone for the first time and brushed it off. But as time passed, and this habit only got worse, he got confused. Which slowly turned into anger. Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore and exploded. 

You had been with Mr. Compress, learning about making cocktails and drinks so that the burden wouldn’t fall all on Compress. You two had an audience but neither of you cared that much. Atsuhiro had been showing you the basics when Toga came in and asked what was going on. “I’m sorry Toga, Compress is showing me how to make drinks for everyone,” you said to the young villain. Toga pouted and glared at you. “You’re no fun,” she said bitterly. You lowered your head to her slightly and replied, “I know, I’m sorry.” Until you heard someone slam their hand on the bar. Looking over, it was none other than Shigaraki, who was glaring daggers into your eyes. You had seen many times Shigaraki glare at others, but never at you. You froze where you stood and could old stare back like a deer in headlights. atsuhiro was a smart man who could read the room and quietly excused himself and ushered everyone else out of the room. The villain took one last look at you, feeling sorry for you as he knew shigaraki was able to throw a tantrum at you. "What was that?!" shigaraki asked you, but you couldn't answer. Wrong move. Shigaraki took the glass that was in your hand and threw it against the brick wall behind you. "answer me!" He screamed at you. "i.. i.. i don't know what you mean.." You rasped out, your throat drying out at the sheer anger coming off of Shigaraki in waves like heat during the summer. "Why were you apologizing to that homicidal lunatic?!"

"I'm sorry Shigaraki but i just.." Yet another glass was smashed against the brick behind you, apparently Shigaraki didn't like that answer either. "Stop fucking saying that! It's pathetic! God you are pathetic!"

The Words left Shigaraki's mouth before he had time to process what he just said to you. His words stung like a knife to the heart. Did he really think you were pathetic? Is that what he really thought? Did he not love you anymore? Thoughts spiraled around in your head as Shigaraki just huffed out and stormed past you. Most likely to go to his room and play games until he calmed down. You, on the other hand, were stuck in the bar. Feeling like your world was crashing down around you. it felt like he took your heart and stomped on it, not caring about what happened to you afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to him, so you avoided him like the plague.

The next few days were agony. You couldn't bring yourself to leave you room. You weren't eating, you overslept, and you never seemed to leave you room. Even Kurogiri couldn't persuade you to get up and eat something. Even Dabi tried to get you to eat, which proved just as successful as Kurogiri's attempts. Shigaraki wasn't any better. He had been on a short temper with everyone and his neck was red and raw. multiple things had been dusted within the compound and everyone quickly learned how much you really meant to the blue-haired leader.

Eventually, the big man himself noticed his heir was going off the rails and called. "Shigaraki, don't tell me one little human has you so out of sorts. This is unbecoming of my heir. So get your shit together or I will find a replacement." AFO left no room for discussion, he never did; Shigaraki never questioned him. Back-to-back missions and a new found anger from Shigaraki had the league even more out of whack. That was, until dabi had fed up with all of the bullshit and locked you and Shigaraki in a room together, screaming at you two to "figure it out or starve" It had been over two weeks since you had even seen Shigaraki, let alone talk to him. He, likewise, couldn't bring himself to speak, let alone even look in your general direction. In truth, he's been a hot mess since the last time you two spoke. All he can do is replay the moment over and over again in his head, like a time loop. He has all these apologizes and words he wants to say, but they dry up and die in his throat.

When he had opened his mouth, you looked at him with such sadness. It took him what felt like eternity to say the small phrase that has tumbled around in his head for days. "I.. I'm sorry i yelled.." His voice was so soft and quiet, you almost missed it. Almost. His voice hit your ears just barely and his words entered and consumed your mind.

"i apologize because... because if I don't.." The words you wanted to say piled in your throat, all of them wanting to escape at the same time. "I don't want people to hate me... I'd rather them walk all over me if it meant that they saw some type of value in me.." You finally said softly, looking down at the floor. Your eyes pooling with tears that you couldn't let spill out, not until you felt yourself being pulled into an embrace. Tomura couldn't say anything; he knew all too well how you felt.

Tomura held you, consoling you as best he could. He never had to comfort anyone before you, but he tried for you. He let you cry it out until, what felt like hours passed, he shouted at Dabi to let you two out. The scarred man carely opened the door, the rest of the league watching as you and Tomura emerged from the room. Dabi looked at Tomura's arm around your shoulder's and your tear-stained face and walked away, seemingly satisfied with the outcome. Neither of you said anything, retreating to your shared room and locking the door.

Over the next few days, Tomura made the effort to thank you for doing little things around the base, and even convinced (read: threatened) the others to do the same. He made efforts to show you your worth each and everyday, because he'd be damned if his angel felt worthless. And he would happily spend his days proving you wrong.

#tomura shiragaki #shigaraki tomura #tomura x reader #mha tomura #bnha tomura #shigaraki #shimura tenko #x reader #one shot #reader insert #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[intrepidacious]

brooklyn, thursday night

summary: It’s the third Thanksgiving after the Blip, and you’ve become a habit Steve’s unable to shake.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: some angst, some fluff (i mean, it's me); one night stand to two night stand to fwb to lovers kind of situationship; implied sexytimes

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: this was written for layla's love in verse challenge and i loved this idea so much!! i found inspiration in "thanksgiving 2006" by ocean vuong—or rather, the poem found me, as poems tend to do. you can find it in its entirety underneath the fic

a/n: i seem to be making a habit out of posting holiday fics when it’s not, in fact, said holiday, and i can't even feel sorry about it. @heavenlybarnes thank you so much for this beautiful challenge!! i missed writing for steve, and this was the perfect opportunity 💛

masterlist | read on ao3

Brooklyn’s too cold tonight, so Steve keeps walking.

The serum has a way of warming his hands, but not his heart, coursing through his veins with hot vengeance he doesn’t like to stop and examine. He suspects he wouldn’t like what he’d find, because at the core, at the very core of him, there is a numbness where all the world used to be, and he despises himself for it.

He hates that part of himself on nights like this, that soft, aching vulnerability no genius scientist with their experiments could ever cure him from, or even just protect with their chemicals and radiation, all their balancing, imbalanced bullshit. That was never the point.

It’s just that he doesn’t feel particularly good at the moment.

So he keeps walking.

It’s November again, and the winter air is just as ruthless as that gnawing feeling inside that for the third year in a row, Steve doesn’t have anything he feels particularly thankful for. For the third year in a row, he finds himself walking down these streets, but he can’t fool himself enough to pretend to be aimless anymore. His feet find the way easily.

("You like to keep moving, don’t you?"

A tired smile. "I just fear I’m getting my directions mixed up.")

The sound of a lighter seems to echo on the empty streets, buried between snow and lingering unease.

***

The first year, you’re a stranger, and it’s all coincidence.

No one on the planet, hell, in the universe, probably, feels particularly celebratory, and so most windows are dark by the time Steve takes the first step outside. He’s known these streets for the better part of a century, and yet he’s never felt more like a stranger in them.

He buried his parents and went to war, and yet he’s never known grief or guilt like this.

There’s a cut on his cheek that hasn’t quite healed yet, from when his hand slipped while shaving the beard. Or maybe he was just trying to feel something. Red blood spilled like a reminder that he could put on the Cap façade all he wanted; he was still just human, and he failed.

You just got off your shift.

You have your apron wrapped around your hand as you lean against the side wall, hands shaking as you try to light your cigarette. The lighter is broken. He can hear you cursing over the howling of the wind.

("I never used to smoke," you tell him later. "My best friend always said it calms her nerves. I get it now."

So does Steve.)

"Do you need help?" he asks, even though he doesn’t have fire, not the one you could use right now. It’s his instincts that are hardest to shake, even on a day like this.

"It’s fine," you say without even looking at him, throwing the cigarette into your bag. "This is all just great!"

There is a tremor in your voice that he recognizes, that pent up frustration threatening to boil up at a minor inconvenience. You let your head fall back until it hits brick so hard he almost flinches, but you don’t even seem to notice.

You blink at him like you’re only just realizing he’s real.

"You want something?" you ask, and your voice is so sharp he feels the cut on his cheek reopening, but your eyes are soft. It’s disarming, that combination.

Steve’s dumbfounded for a moment, because he doesn’t really know why he stopped, either. Now that he’s aware of it, though, it’s impossible not to keep looking at you. And there’s that instinct, again. That gut feeling that tells him neither of you should be alone right now.

If he were Bucky, he might have told you that, with that half-smile of his that used to bring half the city to its knees. Bucky used to say all kinds of things to the girls he went out with, back in the day, and the rare occasion on which that backfired never seemed to deter him.

But Steve’s just himself, and he’s starting to feel creepy now, so he just says, "I think you’re the first person I talked to today."

You stare at him, and there’s that shift in your eye when you recognize him and hesitate for a second as you evaluate if he’s a threat. He wonders if there’s any getting used to that.

"Wow," you finally say. "Not gonna lie, but that’s kind of sad."

Steve huffs. "Yeah."

It’s the heaviness in your gaze that betrays you, your jawline etched in the cool smoke your breath trails behind. You lost someone, too.

What a strange thing to pick up on, he thinks, when it’s rarer to meet someone who hasn’t, but he still feels sorry in a way that seems oddly personal. The question of who is almost on his lips before he catches himself. Before he remembers that he doesn’t know you, and that he has no right to that sort of information.

You tilt your head, and a small crease appears between your brows. "Aren’t you freezing?" you finally say.

He shrugs. "I’ve been colder."

"Yeah." You nod, but he can see the gears in your head turning. Finally, you seem to swallow something down. "You got a second person lined up for the night?"

His mouth twitches involuntarily and he shakes his head.

"Me either. Great Thanksgiving, huh."

There’s a pause as you shift on your feet and he clears his throat, but neither of you moves. It’s a little uncomfortable, or it should be, but you toss your apron into your bag and cross your arms in a way that poses a challenge. Steve swallows heavily.

"I should—"

"How about we move this someplace warmer?" The question is accompanied by a glance that makes him step a little closer, makes him lower his head ever so slightly as you both consider each other, both of you waiting to see what will happen next.

And, yeah, maybe it’s selfish of him not to make up an excuse and leave you to your unlit cigarette, but damnit, why can’t he be selfish for a change? After a year like this?

So he says, "lead the way," and his voice doesn’t shake a bit.

("You haven’t been casual a day in your life," Bucky would’ve said, and Steve would’ve glowered at him. These are the things he misses; he can’t even be casually mad anymore.)

It’s not a long walk, and the wind does most of the talking. Neither of you is much in the mood for it. You’re shivering by the time you try to get your keys out, and when he holds the door open for you, you just give him a small nod.

"It’s out of order," you murmur as you pass the elevator, already unraveling your scarf. Steve follows, close enough that he could smell the lingering remnants of perfume on your hair if he took a deep breath. He doesn’t.

The building is old, all high ceilings and broken floor tiles, colorless. Every step trails an echo behind. Your neighbor’s striped doormat is barely visible underneath the pile of unread newspapers. The air is so cold he imagines he could still see his own breath.

You force your door open with your shoulder and then halt in the entrance, as if just remembering something. "You’re not allergic to anything, are you?"

"Not since 1943," he answers. It’s odd to admit it like this, even though you know exactly who he is. Somehow, he feels like he’s going about all of this wrong, but the thought of leaving seems even worse.

"Good," you murmur before you let him in and close the door behind him. "That’s good."

The hallway to your apartment is cluttered, but in a homely, charming way. Vibrant art prints and knick-knacks litter the surfaces and jut out of cardboard boxes, all of it covered with a thin layer of dust. You don’t turn the lights on, and so Steve only puts it together when the soft pattering noise stops at his feet and turns into sniffing.

"You have a dog," he says, surprised.

"My roommate does," you say, and then you catch yourself. He can see the short pause in your movements, even though you continue with a lightheartedness that is familiar in how false it sounds. He knows before you say it out loud. "Well, I suppose she’s mine now."

He sinks to his knees, slowly, because he ran out of speed a while ago. The dog wiggles her tail.

"Her name is Leia," you tell him. "You know, like Star Wars?"

It’s another reminder that he still hasn’t quite caught up with this day and age. He is spared an answer, though, because you’ve already moved on to the kitchen, switching on the lights as you go. Steve keeps petting the dog.

"Drink?" you shout, and it’s strange, how casually you’re treating this whole encounter while Steve’s own thoughts are still stuck on a merry-go-round. He doesn’t know if he can ever get off this ride again.

"Sure," he says lightly, because he’s been acting for years.

All of it just play pretend.

("You don’t mean that," you whisper later, much, much later.

"No." He brushes the hair out of his eyes. "Sometimes.")

You drink, and you sit on the living room floor, just chatting, really, because this is a strange situation for both of you. There’s an uncertainty in the air that grows hotter with every passing minute, and when the conversation lulls to a stop, it shifts.

You look at him, then, anticipation of something so thick between you he could cut it with a knife.

Steve has lived through a war and two very different worlds colliding within less than a decade, but this is still so new for him. And yeah, maybe it feels like he’s breaking some sort of rule here, crossing some moral boundary he’s not supposed to even look at, because that’s just how he was brought up.

But times have changed, as he’s all too painfully aware, and you’re still looking at him, eyelids heavy, and Steve decides, fuck it.

His voice barely sounds like his own when he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

The second you take to blink and nod lasts an eternity, but when you do, he finally stops listening to that nagging voice at the back of his head that tells him he shouldn’t. Instead, he carefully pulls the sleepy dog off his knee and scoots over to where you’re sitting, watching, waiting. Steve looks at your face one more time, slowly, deliberate, and then he leans in.

He’s not gonna lie; it’s awkward for a good while.

The angle is weird, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands because this is the first time he’s touched you all night, and it’s just a simple fact that he hasn’t done this in a spell. But then you tilt your head just so, and his hand settles on your thigh, helping you into his lap and yes.

For a moment he remembers what it’s like to stop thinking, to stop running and just be.

And then your fingers thread through his hair, tugging slightly, and Steve’s brain shuts off entirely, consumed by the fire that courses through his veins. By the time your breath turns shorter, he knows your rhythm and he’s all too happy to take his time to match it.

He’s not ready for anything more than a distraction, and you’re not offering.

(You tell him to be gone when you wake up. "I have another early shift and I don’t want to have to kick you out," you mutter, snuggling closer. "Ruin my day."

Steve doesn’t sleep at all. He sneaks out once the early morning sunshine starts tickling your nose, shoes in his hand, his hands growing cold once again.)

***

The snow starts picking up.

There’s a message from Natasha on his phone that he’s stared at and then closed again about a hundred times. It was a response to him canceling their dinner plans, again, and this time she didn’t leave it at the sad little OK she would usually put. Her words have started to bleed into his very consciousness like a song stuck in his head.

I don’t know what’s different lately, but I think it’s good for you.

Steve’s not so sure.

The way he sees it, he’s setting himself up to grow attached to something he has no right to keep, and he’s seen how that story ends too many times in his life. It’s one thing to care for someone and a whole other thing to care about them.

("It’s nothing personal."

Of course it’s not. The marks left on his skin vanish within a few hours.)

There’s a bunch of unused brushes on his desk in the tiny apartment he calls home, more than twelve blocks away. Steve bought them last week, in a spur of almost giddy inspiration, and he’s only realized the ridiculousness of that when he unlocked the front door, receipt long discarded on the way.

Now they’re sitting there, waiting for something to change.

He’s been brought back to the city of the living, and he should be feeling more guilty about it.

***

The second year, you’re an indulgence.

He’s almost walked by your apartment several times now, mostly on early summer mornings or nights far colder than they should be, but he could never bring himself to actually cross the street, turn the corner, climb the stairs. He doesn’t come closer than a two block radius, really. Not until today.

The truth is, he’s thought about running into you so many times he’s forgotten what he wanted to tell you. Why he wants to see you at all.

But Brooklyn is too cold and too empty, and the feeling uncoiling in his chest tells him this was always how this was supposed to go.

You’re sitting on the steps in front of your apartment building, reading a book in the light of the street lantern. Your eyes are watery from the sharp sting of winter air, but you look undeterred. Unhurried.

"I thought you might come," you say, and Steve gets the strange sense that you’re pleased.

(It was a lie, you tell him later. You were waiting for a friend, to take you to some party you didn’t want to go to. "I didn’t think you’d ever come back," you mumble into his hair, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his skin.

As if he’s had a choice in the matter.)

"I aim to please," he says, even though that’s not true, has never been true. Maybe it’s the way you look at him.

You look sharper than you did a year ago, as if all that pain has carved itself into blunt edges and curt glances. But your hands are still soft. He stares at them as if he might be allowed to hold them again.

"Somehow, I doubt that," you say, tilting your head. "New look?"

Steve scratches his beard. "Old look. I’m still deciding which one to keep."

You snort, and it sends a tingle down his spine.

"What?"

"Nothing. That’s just the most serious way I’ve ever heard someone talk about facial hair." You look at him solemnly, like you’re about to break the worst news to him. He already knows. "You do realize it’ll keep growing back either way?"

If he were Sam, he’d have joked with you, in that dry manner of his, maybe winked at you afterwards to reassure you that it was all just teasing, good fun. There was a lightness to Sam’s interactions with people he cared about that had always seemed so precious in hindsight; like it couldn’t be shared enough.

But Steve’s just himself, and his eyes are as tired as his body, so he just says, "I didn’t want to be alone."

You watch his eyes with such intent he feels himself getting uneasy. Then, you take your keys out of your coat pocket and unlock the door. You don’t look back as you tell him, "It’s getting late."

It’s all the invitation Steve needs.

"What were you reading?" he asks, stepping into the damp, cold hallway after you. The elevator is still out of order.

You hand him your book without so much as a glance over your shoulder. He doesn’t really look at it, either, just keeps staring at the little bit of skin peeking out where your scarf has shifted down. He can’t help but wonder if it tastes the same.

("Whenever I’m sad and I feel like killing myself, I read something by Sylvia Plath."

He listens to your heartbeat. "And what if you’re sad and you don’t feel like that?" he asks.

Your smile is melancholy and contagious. "A children’s novel.")

"You know, you never told me your name," Steve says once you get inside, his cheeks burning.

"So I didn’t," you hum with a tilt of your head that’s already starting to feel familiar, even though this is only the second time you’ve met. There’s the same challenge in it, but the spark in your eye is new, mischievous, like you’re also remembering what things kept him from asking something as simple as a name the last time he was here.

You fill in his gaps.

The knowledge feels foreign. Like he’s somehow been allowed to see a whole new side of you, even though it’s just a name, and not much more.

He smiles softly at the sound of it, and then, before he can stop himself, admits, "I’ve been thinking about you."

Steve’s seen your lips twitch before, but he hasn’t seen you smile. Not last year, when everything was still so fresh the very air tasted like sorrow, not even when you lay next to him with hazy eyes and he wiped the sweat off your brow. But you smile at his words now, and it changes your entire face, all the harshness of it disappearing to show something glowing underneath, something more hopeful than he’s seen in quite a while.

You take his face into your hands and kiss him like an answer, carefully, as if he’s something precious, as if you have something to lose. It’s difficult for him to focus, to stop himself from telling you that he’s not, and you don’t.

But then his thoughts cease being so loud again, one by one, and maybe that’s why he’s missed your touch for a whole year. The endless echoes in his mind finally turn silent.

He pours his thanks into each kiss that follows.

("Text me," you offer this time, and even though he’s not sure what kind of invitation you’re extending with those two words, he clings to them like a lifeline.)

***

Each step crunches underneath his boots and Steve is starting to regret not taking the subway. But the air had seemed so nice tonight, and the streets are quiet in a way that should be lonely and yet is the opposite of that.

Three years, and empty spaces have been cautiously, regrettably filled.

("I hate losing things. It drives me up the wall."

How does someone move on from something like this? Little by little, or not at all.

The worst part, he thinks, is that anything new will never quite replace what’s missing. Only repopulate the void.)

The first time you came to his place instead of the other way around, you forgot your scarf, and Steve had to talk himself into returning it for almost a week. Fine. Ten days.

It just smelled so sweet.

"There it is," you said when he finally did knock on your door again, relief so clearly written all over your face as if he’s been returning a long lost child.

And then you carelessly tossed it aside and dragged him towards you by the collar.

Not that he’s complaining.

The snow, however …

Steve blinks up against it, at the familiar streets set against a dark sky. It’s a scene that begs to be painted, long shadows and milky streetlights caught in a whirlwird of ice. He looks at it for a long moment, and then he continues walking.

***

This year, you’re a necessity.

This year, it’s not been twelve months. In fact, it’s not even been two weeks, but he’s still missed you. Brooklyn sheds all of its colors this time of year, and on the dreariest mornings he finds himself craving your presence more than usual.

It’s terrifying, this sort of protectiveness he feels for you. It’s not what this is supposed to be, not what either of you needs right now.

("So what?" Sam would’ve said, and Steve would’ve lowered his head. Probably. He’s running out of scenarios to run through his mind, and so every time he tries, it feels like he’s chipping away at precious memories, distorting them, losing them. "So what?"

Maybe. The future has never felt less clear.)

He’s found out that he craves you like a drug, and he knows it can’t be healthy, he shouldn’t be doing this, but damnit, can’t he have one good thing to keep again for a change?

Like the taste of your hot skin bathed in a strip of moonlight, or that glimmer in your eyes that lets him forget the remaining half of the universe, reduces it only to him and you, and every shared breath between you. He keeps replaying those moments when he’s not with you, can’t stop himself, really. It’s easier now that he knows there will be a next time.

Not forever, of course, but now is enough.

("Enough already?" You nudge your nose against his shoulder. "I thought your ambitions were greater than that, Captain.")

Steve stops in front of the elevator, considers it for a moment, then takes the stairs anyway. Some habits are hard to shake, and perhaps you’re one of them. Though he doubts it; you’re more than just that.

He finds your door unlocked, which should be a reason for concern but somehow isn’t. Maybe it’s the smell. The lights are on in the living room and he can hear an old record playing.

("Leia loves it when I play them," you’ve told him before. "I think maybe they remind her of …" You trailed off, like you always do.

He still hasn’t learned your roommate’s name.)

He leaves his shoes by the door and follows the sound, like he’s done time and again.

Today, it’s Ella Fitzgerald, and you’re dancing in the kitchen.

The sight stops Steve in his tracks, because suddenly there’s an ease to his step he doesn’t like, can’t allow himself, even though it shouldn’t really be a surprise.

("Why not?" Bucky might have said.

"Live a little, man," Sam could have said.

He hopes, thinks, wishes.)

Nat’s message burns a hole into his pocket. Coward, it whispers, and Steve ignores it. He watches you swaying around and moving your arms in a ridiculously elaborate way, unaware that you have an audience.

Light. Pure light shining through all your edges, and softening them to his gaze.

Leia senses his presence first, waggling toward him with flapping ears and a cheerful bark, and so he lets himself be welcomed, sitting down on the floor with a quiet laugh.

You turn, and your hips stop moving, which is truly the biggest crime of all.

"Hey, stranger," you say, your smile so clearly audible in your voice it makes Steve bite his lip hard before he dares to look up.

"Hey," he says when his eyes meet yours, his body relaxing immediately at the sight of you. "What are you cooking at this hour?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know." You continue stirring the pot on the stove. "But you can set the table once you’re done charming my dog."

"That could take a while," Steve chuckles as Leia keeps licking his hand. "I’m very charming."

You roll your eyes, but the smile stays.

"Come on, honey," you say, pulling him to his feet again, and it might have just been a slip of the tongue, but damn if his heart didn’t just skip a beat.

Steve’s been called many names in his life, but he’s pretty sure none of them have ever sounded as right.

On impulse, he leans over to brush his lips over yours, softly, smiling when your mouth chases his as he pulls back.

"What was that for?" you whisper with a light frown.

He blinks. "Food," he finally says. "I’m starving."

("Get up, then."

His tongue traces delicate patterns down your throat. "Why would I need to do that?")

It hurts his brain, this softness of yours that’s close enough to touch and yet feels so off-limits.

He’s kissed you a hundred times before, languidly, feverishly, carefully, but never pointlessly. Well, not without a point he would admit to.

You choose not to dwell on it, thankfully, and go back to your pot with a hum. Steve runs a hand through his hair and pushes himself back into the role you’ve both agreed upon. Friends, for the most part. He can live with that, of course he can. He’s lived through worse things.

(Neither of you has ever wanted to fix the other. It was nice, for a change, being a little broken. It only meant finding new places to fit together.)

He wakes up a little over three hours after to find you wrapped around him, hugging his arm to your chest so tightly he can feel it rise and sink with each and every one of your breaths. He watches you for a long while, still half-asleep, every cell of his body screaming at him not to move an inch. To just keep you right where you are.

For a second, he wonders if he could get away with stealing one last kiss before he sets out on the trek home, like he always does. As if you’d heard him, you start stirring under his gaze.

"Stay," you whisper into the dead of night, and he can feel his eyes close almost immediately. Your voice cuts through the darkness like he’s already dreaming. "Steve. Don’t go, please."

And so he lets himself settle into your side, pulling you closer, breathing you in, his lips touching your forehead, and you sigh.

Maybe next year, he can be thankful for something.

thank you for reading!! if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog 💛 to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

Brooklyn's too cold tonight & all my friends are three years away. My mother said that I could be anything I wanted -- but I chose to live. On the stoop of an old brownstone a cigarette flares, then fades. I walk to it: a razor sharpened with silence. His jawline etched in smoke. The mouth where I reenter this city. Stranger, palpable echo, here is my hand, filled with blood thin as a widow's tears. I am ready. I am ready to be every animal you leave behind.

Thanksgiving 2006, Ocean Vuong

#loveinversewritingchallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #brooklyn thursday night

[levi-4uckerman]

"This is a one-time thing."

| tags/tw: mild nsfw, omegaverse, Alpha!Levi, more of a drabble than anything, mentions of knots, mating, heats. Minors DNI.

| summary: Reader is an Omega stranded on a boat with her Captain (Alpha!Levi) and oops she ran out of heat suppressants! （ꉺ౪ꉺ）

| would u like a part 2?

You gulped, unable to argue any further. The clock was ticking on your mission and your heat had just begun-- if he intercepted now, the two of you would likely make it to Marley as scheduled and you could forget that this little setback had ever happened.

And you would never forget to double check your supply of heat suppressants before going overseas, alone with Captain Levi, ever again.

If he would ever allow you to be alone with him again after this, that is.

Thankful that you'd finally stopped bickering, Levi began removing his uniform while taking in your compromised form. You were panting, rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to gain some kind of friction, barely able to form a coherent sentence.

The slick coating the insides of your legs was overwhelming Levi in its aroma, choking him up and filling his sinuses as if you were trying to drown him in the scent alone. He had been with Omegas in the past, but never one in heat. His appetite as an Alpha was oftentimes suppressed by the work that he did, satisfying his urges in other ways, such as killing Titans. It brought him a similar thrill that was enough to keep the primal side of him at bay.

But the two of you were stranded; you hadn't made it halfway to Marley when you ran out of your suppressants. It was early morning when Levi awoke to the smell of you, permeating the cabin of the small boat, causing him to panic. There were no Titans to kill, and no forest to escape to; he was stuck with it, with you, and all he could do was suffer... or take care of it himself. All of this he'd worked out in his head before he had even put on his uniform, and by the time he'd reached your quarters, he had made up his mind.

You were two days out from your scheduled arrival and he could not afford for his best soldier to be out of commission; he could not afford to have lost his mind at the hands of his rut, which he would surely fall into if he continued to be suffocated by the thick, sweet scent that percolated throughout the small space, untouched by even the salty odor of seawater that surrounded the both of you in your floating prison. He decided to opt for the nuclear method, assuring a quick and (mostly) painless end before this inconvenience became a major problem.

He didn't think you would need so much convincing in the beginning, however.

"You want to what?!" You screeched, incredulity flooding your gaze as you returned his soured expression in kind.

The Captain sighed, placing a hand on his hip as he tended to do when his soldiers were being little headaches. "I want to take care of this," he gestured vaguely in your direction and added, "before it becomes a hindrance to our mission."

"A hindrance?" You repeated, shaking your head. "Captain, do you even know what you're saying?"

"I do," he said, showing no outward signs of actually understanding what he was committing to. This man. This man and his fucking audacity.

"We're talking about... about mating! You and I can't just... we can't--,"

"Relax," he said with a groan. "It's not like I'm offering to bond you. However, if it'll get you to calm the hell down--,"

You looked to him, appalled. "It most certainly will not!"

"Then it's a good thing I was being facetious, soldier," He then approached you, taking note of the way your skin glistened with sweat in the heat of the sun. It was the middle of summer, which likely wasn't helping your current state. Despite feeling an obligation to do this for the good of the mission, he felt an inexplicable urge to help you just because he felt sorry for you. You looked miserable. What was the point in your suffering if he could give you what you needed? It's not like he'd used his knot since his early 20s, anyway. May as well put it to use.

Of course, he didn't expect you to understand-- and you did not. Mating, to an Omega, was a much more intimate experience-- something that he didn't much understand, either.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and weighed the options in front of you. You noticed the way his scent seemed to flow into the room with him, enveloping the space around you as if it were a vacuum. If he went into a rut, it would surely overpower your own. Before you had time to fully process what you were getting yourself into, you felt a warmth atop your hand.

Suddenly, Levi was inches away from you, his hand over yours. He commanded your stare silently, only by sitting within such close quarters. You obliged, meeting his steely gaze without a qualm of your own.

"I expect nothing of you after this trip. I swear it."

You gulped; he could tell you still weren't convinced.

"I will tell no one," he continued, "we never have to speak of it--,"

"Not even the Commander?" You said, finally, your eyes spelling out your answer for him.

Levi's mouth formed a tight-lipped smile. "Not even the Commander."

You reached a trembling hand up to touch him, your pulse quickening as you placed your palm against his clothed chest. You had never been so close to your Captain before. Contemplating his features with newly discovered clarity, you were suddenly made very aware of how handsome he truly was. Your teammates, of course, swooned over him in their adoration of his commanding presence, but you... had never paid him much attention, regretfully. At least, no more than you would have any other Captain who picked you for their squad.

"This stays here?" You repeated, your eyes falling to his lips, which were already poised with a reply.

"Yes, Omega. This is a one-time thing."

#hehehe sorry #had 2 do it #Alpha!Levi #alpha levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x yn #snk omegaverse #snk alphas #aot smut #aot levi #aot x reader #aot x you #snk x you #levi x you #levi ackerman headcanons #snk x reader #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #snk #captain levi #levi attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman moodboard

[amourdeleon07]

"What did I do wrong?" - A flash fiction

Two posts in a row?!?!?!? I'm pretty sure I'll be posting daily for a week and then ghost Tumblr until I have a new one finished because I already have a bit in store but I'm having author's block atm!! I hope you'll enjoy this just as much as my first one, and if you haven't seen it then go check it out!!!

Warning: MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!

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How many hours has it been? How many hours have passed ever since I've promised myself the slumber I crave and longed for? 

This is the umpteenth time where I sit at the edge of my bed, staring into nothingness as I drown in my thoughts. Ever since ‘that’ happened, I have been having trouble sleeping, 'I probably have insomnia' I chuckled to myself. The silence is deafening in my ears but it comforts me as I battle my own thoughts. 

Where did I go wrong? Why did that happen? Could I have been better? WHY didn't I expect THAT? WHY didn't I CONTROL IT? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? 

... 

‘Calm down, please.' How pathetic, I'm begging myself to calm down? Unbelievable. I bit my tongue, stopping the tears in my eyes before it fell. 

Gosh, it really is something else when you're forcing yourself not to cry, telling yourself that everything is okay when it isn't. This has to be one of the worst feelings mankind has to go through.

Can this please stop? I don't want this to continue anymore. I want to sleep, I'm tired but I'm wide awake, I don't feel like sleeping but I know I need it. But…

How do I even stop my own thoughts? How do I stop ‘that’ from playing in my head over and over and over again? 

... 

I have to stop myself from doing that, don't I? So, how do I stop myself? 

... 

What if I grab something sharp and... 

“stop” myself?...

Oh, my wrists look really pretty right now. It could use a few slits to make it even prettier, watching the blood seep through the open wound and drop unto the cold hard floor and…

No. 

What am I doing? Thinking of ending my life because of a minor inconvenience?

... 

I really need to stop, but this isn't the first time I've had thoughts like these or had similar situations like this. This isn't the first I've thought about cutting myself open and leaving myself to bleed. This certainly is the first time I stopped myself from doing so. New Achievement Unlocked! 

... 

Why am I like this? Is this why ‘that’ happened? I wouldn't be surprised if this is why that happened.

Sighing to myself, I got up and went to grab a glass of water, quenching my thirst. Placing the glass on top of the coaster, I once again stare into the abyss. 

What am I doing with my life? I'm a failure, aren't I? Will I ever do anything right? Will I ever make myself proud? Will I ever make ‘them’ proud?

Thinking about all of this makes my head throb. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale deeply, trying to collect myself.

…

I can’t sleep like this. I feel restless. I want to sleep, I know I need sleep, but I just can’t. So do I just sit here and suffer alone with thousands of thoughts running through my head every second?

…

How many times do I have to spend my night like this? How many times do I have the same conversation with myself? I can’t let this continue. 

Something has to change. I have to change for the better. 

It has to.

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I'll be posting another one tomorrow!!! Stay tuned!!

#writing #literature #writer #writers #flashfiction #imnotemoiswear #insecurities? #latenightthoughts #bookworm #booklover #book #fyp #fypage #foryoupage #tumblr fyp #insomnia? #ihaveaterriblesleepschedule #ineedsleep #overthinking #iliketowritethingswiththiskindofenergy

[fireofjudgement]

Alice in Borderland characters when they're too big for you

Yes, this is exactly what you think it is. It's not as explicit as I thought it would be but still, minors please do not interact!!

Warnings: f!reader, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drugs, princess/whore mentions, vaginal sex, kissing, mentions of children, slight corruption kink, marking, slight restraining, sex in front of a mirror, reader is inexperienced

Karube:

"It's okay princess, take your time." He said, between one kiss and another, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. He wanted to make sure you're okay, make sure you knew you could stop or take a break at any moment. You were in control afterall.

He didn't know how much it meant to you, all the love he showed you, all the patience and support. He didn't leave room for you to feel ashamed about not being able to take all of him immediately, instead he encouraged you to take over control, get on top and take your time. He kept reassuring you that it'll feel good for him no matter what, simply because he was with you.

That, combined with the constant stream of praises, his gentle touches and passionate kisses, allowed you to feel more comfortable, confident and so, before you noticed your thighs were resting on his, your hands roaming his body, exploring every inch of his soft skin.

Chishiya:

"If you're going to hit me with another fact about the vagina, I will leave." The first one was interesting, you could admit that. The second one was funny. The third one got you a little annoyed. But it only went downhill from there. For you that is, Chishiya looked very amused and as calm and collected as always.

He knew that, with your lack of experience, his size might become a problem sooner or later, but he didn't understand why you were making such a big deal out of it. Afterall, you could push out a baby (or multiple) out of your vagina, so you could most definitely take all of him. The fact that you seemed visibly distressed baffled him.

But, even though he would never admit it, he did care about you in his own way and he would never hurt you on purpose, so he kept his opinions to himself (for the most part at least) and gave you as much time and space as you needed, allowing you to relax and clear your mind.

And when you did, he tried again, this time more gently, clearly prioritizing your comfort and well-being over his own pleasure. Though, seeing you so vulnerable underneath him, so easy to hurt, so easy to ruin, did turn him on, his imagination going wild but he never showed it on the outside.

He knew that if he stayed patient and focus on you for now, soon enough he'd be able to have his own way with you, ruining your innocence and corrupting you. He also knew that, with the newly gained trust, you'd let him do anything he pleased and you'd enjoy it too.

Niragi:

"Aww, look at you! Maybe you're not as big of a whore as I thought you were, huh? That's okay, we'll change that tonight.."

If you weren't this..drunk? Or high? Or maybe both, you didn't even remember at that point, you'd probably feel ashamed listening to him talk to you like that, being under his control and completely at his mercy, but you didn't care, your body feeling like it was on fire, the combination of pain and pleasure definitely not helping your intoxicated state.

One look at him was all it took for you to realize that you won't be able to take all of him but instead of fear, you only felt more arousal rush through your veins, as well as an odd feeling of determination. You wanted to take all of him, you wanted to make him proud and for him to make you his. You weren't a whore, no, but for him you wanted to be.

He didn't waste any time being slow, or gentle, pinning you down to keep you still, his hands holding yours in a tight grip. There was no room for romance or sensuality-he needed you and you needed him, and neither of you was going to give up because of a little inconvenience.

Hatter:

And with his lips already busy ruining the skin on your neck, chest and shoulders, with his body covering yours, with all the filthy things he whispered into your ears, you didn't really have the chance to think about anything else but all the things you wanted, needed him to do to you.

"Do we really have to do it..here?" You weren't sure if having sex with Hatter was a good idea to begin with, but at that point you were ready to just give up leave.

You didn't even really know how you felt about all this. Embarrassed? Insecure? Ashamed? Maybe a combination of all of the above. Out of all the things you considered might go wrong during your rendezvous with Hatter, his..size definitely wasn't high on the list but alas, it could be just what would turn this night into a rather sorrow memory.

At least that's what you thought. Maybe you were being a little dramatic, admittedly, but without much sexual experience and being a natural overthinker, you fully expected him to kick you out, only to never talk to you again.

However, he surprised you once again. Nobody has ever shown you the amount of patience, care and understanding that Hatter did that night. Not even once did he seem annoyed, amused or impatient. Of course, his methods were quite..unconventional-at first he suggested some alcohol to help you relax but you didn't drink, so weed was the next best option. When you announced you don't do drugs either, he jokingly suggested for you to have sex with someone..less fortunate when it came to their size. At least you were hoping it was a joke.

When you rejected pretty much all of his suggestions and were getting ready to leave, he asked you try out one more thing. Sex in front of a mirror. You weren't sure how exactly that was going to help but, since it was the least absurd of his ideas, you agreed nonetheless and fuck, were you happy you did.

Seeing the both of you in such a vulnerable position, seeing with how much care and patience he approached you, and finally- seeing him going in and out of you, deeper and deeper, you felt as if a weird, maybe only temporary, bond was formed, a sense of trust and understanding you've never felt before. Suddenly, you found yourself more relaxed, your instincts taking over. No more words were needed anymore.

Aguni:

"That's it my love, you're doing so good! Try to relax for me, okay?"

Easier said than done, you thought, taking one deep breath after another- in..and out..in sync with Aguni's thrusts.

He wasn't going in deep, not even close to it, but it was still overwhelming regardless- you felt so full, so stretched already despite knowing that there was still a lot of him left for you to take.

Trying to distract yourself, you shifted your gaze to his face, carefully taking in his features. He looked..concerned, more than anything, and at that moment you thanked God, or whoever might have been listening to your prayers, for a man like him-loving, caring and protective.

Despite the intimidating facade he liked to present to the outside world, you know he'd never hurt you, not even when you were at your most vulnerable. Especially not then. Trusting him felt so natural.

Lost in thought, it took you a while to notice that Aguni's concerned expression changed to a more..satisfied one, causing you to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"You've been so good.." he said, one hand firmly squeezing your hip, the other raising to cup one of your cheeks. "..let me take care of you now, yeah?"

#quinn continues with the brainrot lmao #alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland headcannons #also these are a great writing exercise for when i feel lazy lmao #no word count no expectations just little dots and my imagination roaming freely #oh also let me know if you want me to do this for the guys in my other fandoms too

[ell-em]

It has previously been recommended that I start my own blog or write my own book, amongst other suggested things that I won’t go into just yet. I’m not sure what I’ll make of this. Whether it be more of a journal, some sort of way to vent out the thoughts of madness that stir around in my head. A way to attempt to gather the right words in my mind to remotely describe, no, express how I feel to others.

So I shall start with the beginning of my diagnosis, I suppose.

bi·po·lar dis·or·der

a mental condition marked by alternating periods of elation and depression.

It seems simple and easy to manage through reading a definition, right? Wrong. I have spent the last nearly 3 years trying to take back control of my mental health. With struggles of anxiety and depression, thinking that was just the worst of it, to still feeling this sort of madness in my head that I could never quiet. Only for it to be followed by these intrusive thoughts of self harm, in which, sometimes I gave into despite the countless cries and oppositions from loved ones. Different dosages and brands of medications, all of which simply just were a bandaid on what seemed like a gaping hole of a wound. All the signs were there of what previously was known as manic depressive. I’d feel great for a few days. Even better than that actually. On top of the world, exhilarated, like nothing could possibly bring me down. Damn near nearly feeling the blood pumping through my veins. The adrenaline, like I’ve never felt more alive. Only for one minor inconvenience, one slight jolt back to reality, to bring me back down. Imagine your lowest of lows… Then imagine about 100 more feet lower. I feel as though only those with this same disorder truly understand the intensities that I feel on a day to day basis. How it’s never as simple as “just get over it”, “calm down”, “it’ll get better.”

That tends to be my personal favorite.. “it’ll get better.” Because, ultimately, it will get better. For the days that it gets better, there’s that many more bringing me back to the depths of depressing reality that is my instability of the chemicals in my brain. The calmness I rarely feel, that I so crave. The calmness and peace that I only feel with certain people in my life to the point that being with them is sometimes like my own personal drug. It is sometimes hard to decipher which is healthy and which isn’t. I was told that whenever I’m up, I’m beautiful and bright. Vibrant even, but whenever I’m down… it’s heartbreaking. It truly is, for me and for those around me. I wish I knew a way to help myself, so I could possibly tell my tribe what it is I need on those days that I can’t force myself to take care of myself. When I do not have the energy mentally or emotionally, which takes a toll of me physically. The truth is, I’m still learning.

I spent the last of those 3 years battling and trying to be my own advocate for my mental health while in a relationship with one of my best friends. Someone who I grew up with, who watched after I loved man after man, while he wished it was him. We gave it a chance. It was everything I wanted and needed at the time until it wasn’t. That’s the best way to put it. I regret how it ended, truly. I do not, however, regret my time spent with this man. He pulled me from my darkest place and showed me that I did not have to live there. I do not have to live with nor love something that does not serve me. He showed me how to love myself. He showed me many things and brought so much to my life. Even the thought of a child, which did not work out. The memory of what could have been, motherhood and unconditional love, still haunts me. He will truly never know how thankful I am to him for pounding into my brain that I need to advocate for my own mental health and take time for myself to heal prior to moving on. I did not listen at the time, of course, but eventually I did. I listened at the wrong time and when I finally got that time to myself. To truly be alone, I loved it. I enjoyed only being responsible for me. Going from that sense of independence to back to living together was a transition I was not ready to make. Which in turn, took it’s toll on our relationship.

During that last year together, I had major ups and downs. I had been diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder. I was in the threshold of trying to level out on medication. Trying to find what worked for me and what didn’t with the unwavering dedication from my psychiatrist. I had done all of this while being hours away from my people. My tribe, my loved ones, my coven, the people that mean everything to me. I shut myself away from them. I recoiled at a loving touch. I sobbed at the thought of leaving my bed for anything, even to relieve myself of normal bodily functions. I craved the feeling of euphoria that I got when I had a blade to my skin. That was the only thing that seemed to bring me back to reality. The feeling that reminded me that I’m still here, as self destructive as it is, I did not care. It’s what worked for me during that time. I had lost myself during the months of being away. Every little thing that I had just discovered about myself, I had lost. I finally started having a few more ups, I managed to make it through work days with the help of music. Losing myself in the words of others and dancing around to the rhythm in my head was a type of therapy for me. Until everything came to a screeching haunt in my relationship and I needed to leave. I needed to go back home. I went through all the motions, grieving what could have been… but mostly mourning what was. How things were in the beginning, but ultimately accepting the reality that it was no longer like that.

I had found myself and realized my needs, desires, and cravings. What nourishes my soul and helps me grow as a person. For this, I am thankful. More importantly, I realized that what I need most is myself. I am also grateful for the determination of my psychiatrist who has never given up on trying to find the right medication along with dosage to keep me relatively stable on a day to day basis. Grateful for friends who I have become deeply closer with since being back. Appreciative for new relationships that have developed with others with the real me.

This has slightly touched base with everything over the last year or so that I have struggled and somewhat conquered yet still cannot accurately describe how it was experiencing these things when you feel it tenfold. I guess what I’m trying to get out is that, even though, all these great things happen in my life. I still have this heartbreaking sadness that is unexplained. Days where I just don’t even want to lift my head, let alone conquer the day from 7-5. Then there’s those days where you’d never believe how out of touch with reality I am. The ultimate question I ask myself, if I had a chance to take away my illness, would I? I honestly can say that I don’t know that I would. As much pain and sorrow this illness has brought me, it’s brought me that much joy. It has made me more vibrant, feel more intensely of course. But I feel as though it has made my life that much more interesting, despite taking me down paths I’d never thought to go down.

So bare with me, as I go through the daily motions of madness while trying to navigate my life in a remotely decent direction of stability.

[kradljivac-kostiju]

I feel like I can't talk to anyone about how I'm feeling and it sucks! 🤠

#this is gonna get a lil sad n shit so I advise not to even read lol #I feel like I can't talk to anyone about how shit I am feeling #cuz I either feel like I am bothering them #or they themselves are going thru things and I don't wanna add more bad stuff on em #I understand that my friends would want me to talk to them rather than just go thru it alone #but I can't even make myself ask if it's okay to talk about it #cuz it feels too much #I barely even have time to talk to my best friend bcs of our sleep schedules and also me being in college all day #so when we do talk I don't want it to be about negative things #idk I just wish I could stay home for 5 days and not have to focus on anything besides myself #I need time to calm down because I feel like a minor inconvenience could make me have a breakdown rn #and that is not a good state to have a ton of work to do under #so it just makes it worse #idek if I'm making sense honestly I am just ranting at this point #hope things get easier soon cuz idk how to handle all this #goblin vents #negativity

[gangrenados]

After a long day.

Summary: Bad luck has the reader watered down, maybe some comfort would be good in this occasion.

Afab!reader x dick grayson

Tw: Dacryphilia, it's lighthearted tho so y'all will be okay lmao

The sound of the door opening caught Dick's attention and left him wondering what had happened to you since you were looked watered down and kind of gloomy.

You were biting your lower lip with you gaze fixated on the floor, looking so pitiful." Dick," you called, voice strangled and making walk up to you in a second a leave his desktop and half completed work files behind.

"Hey what's wrong?" Dick's voice is soothing, filled with care as he takes you in his warm embrace. He has an arm around your waist while the other one craddles your head.

He mumbles sweet nothings in your ear that are muffled by your sobbing," oh baby," he repeates in a sweet yet pitiful tone while you cry your heart out against his chest.

It's not difficult to let yourself be consumed by Dick's attention. It has managed to break down your walls, letting himself in and take care of you.

He pushed you away lightly with the thought to finally address what's what got you so conflicted.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Dick asks with furrowed eyebrows, brushing away strands of hair that were falling in your face.

However, you don't answer. To be fair the reason of your tears were a minor inconvenience, the build up of a day with bad luck.

And maybe the reason was that -after working your ass off- your shitty boss nagged at you for stuff that was out of your control, the fact that you were tired but had to finish some taks and also the heartwrenching news that you've ran out of your comfort food that could bring some mid comfort to moments like this.

Dick was patient with you though, waiting for you to have the courage to look at him, but that time didn't came.

Dick sighed, grabbing you by the chin so you'll have to look at him."Hey, you can trust me." He tried again, showing a loving grin that killed all your fidgeting.

You were looking to the side, avoiding his gaze and settling yours in that desk overflowed by papers and vigilante gadgets. "I guess I'm just tired."

Dick can't help but chuckle, leaning in to give you a quick kiss in your forehead." Come here, crybaby" he says with a sympathetic and soft tone now that your sobbing has calmed, guiding you to his working chair and making you sit on his lap.

Your breath is still rigged though, slightly gasping for air after sobbing. And you lean into his warmth, letting you head rest in the croock of his neck, tired out by your own emotions.

He would be lying if he said he didn't liked that, after years of being the one responsible for everyone and everything it's like taking the caretaker role has ingrained itself on his brain and made him seek ways to fulfill that need.

Dick loves it.

" It's okay, I'm here for you."he kisses your cheek.

Dick loves it so much that perhaps it has metamorphosed to something else.

Maybe it's because of the undying need to fix the problem and make you feel better or maybe it's because you look so beautiful when you cry.

You see, there's no lie about the fact that Dick hates to see you distressed, but when tears fall down that pretty face of yours, there's a part of his brain that's clogged by lust.

A hand sneaks it's way down to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up carefully before rubbing the fabric of your panties tentatively.

You gasp at the sensation of Dick pulling aside your panties and teasing your folds, " Hey-" you're cut short by a proper kiss, keeping you silent for a divine moment where your lips connect with the salty taste of your tears.

You can feel yourself get wet, arousal growing and mixing with the sadness that once burned your chest. It's a weird feeling, one that you can't shake off even if you wanted to.

"Dick I-" you sob, leaning into his chest and letting your head rest in the soaked spot of his shirt. With your mouth open slightly, letting those little whimpers be heard by the man who beside you.

"You've been working so much, let me take care of you," Dick pleaded without stopping fingering you, pumping his fingers in and out your pussy.

He was delighted by the sounds you made and how you were buckling your hips to get more friction, it made his head spin.

A prove of this was the little grin Dick had on his face, hidden from you as he left kisses on your neck, sucking and nibbling the skin until a hickey appeared.

Once he pulls away from you he retires his now glistening hand from your panties, neglecting your release as he wants you to be on edge. You groan, pouting at the lost of touch.

He lifts you up a bit, enough for him to be able to let his throbbing cock free and sat you back down on him. Dick grabs your face gently with one hand, forcing you to look at him now that your bare, wet cunt was pressed against his cock, humping it so slightly you only felt a tingle.

He loves the way your eyes shine like crystals after shedding so many tears, that red nose and those little sniffles you make as you look up to him like he's your savior, like he knows best.

God, you look so fragile it's making him crazy.

" You'll let me take care of you, right?" He asks, coming it more like a demand as he pushes his dick slowly inside of you.

"I-I" you babble, losing control of your mind for a bit since you're more focused on he's stretching you out. "Yes" you mumble, nodding.

Dick press a kiss against your temple, waiting for you to adjust to his length. "Oh," you moan, now having him balls deep inside your cunt.

"Good, cause I want to make you feel better," his hands roams your body, groping your tits before he starts to bounce you on his cock.

You gasp for air, overflowing with mixed emotions as your unconsciously reach down to take care of your clit. Sadness turns lust, something that has a tight grip on you just like Dick's fingers grabbing your throat.

You don't even know tears are falling down until he points it out," my poor baby is crying again?" He drags his tongue up your cheek to lick your tears, peppering the wet spot with kisses after.

"It's okay, I know you'll feel better after this."

#dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson smut #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut

[chericarlisle]

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment. 

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

 It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school. 

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students. 

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day. 

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination. 

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time. 

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend. 

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens. 

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door. 

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions. 

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor. 

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours. 

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you. 

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt. 

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would. 

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?” 

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.” 

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done. 

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.” 

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out. 

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful. 

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand. 

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.” 

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in. 

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!” 

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.” 

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare. 

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment. 

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.” 

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you. 

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh. 

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

#carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight carlisle #carlisle cullen fanfiction #twilight #twilight fanfiction

[sinner-as-saint]

Crawling Back To You.

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Bucky Barnes had a lot on his plate at the moment. Regrets, fears, nightmares and desperately trying to do the right things to make up for his past as the Winter Soldier. Amongst those things, barely anything made him truly happy, or safe or loved. None did actually - except for you. He met you at a bar once and since then, you’ve been his sanctuary. You both knew he wasn’t quite ready to be in a relationship, yet you were always there with open arms whenever he needed a friend, a shoulder to lean on, or someone to help him take his mind off things. Be it a nightmare, or memories from the past coming to haunt him, or any major or minor inconvenience, the super soldier would find himself turning to you for help. 

Themes: angst, fluff, smut

He woke up on the floor, covered in cold sweat. 

The flashbacks of the nightmares kept resurfacing until it finally faded again. Faded, not truly gone because he knew they’d be back tomorrow again - his past coming to haunt him. He sighed and squinted at the screen in front of him. 

The T.V was on, playing reruns of a show he did not care about. He simply needed the noise to help him fall asleep. The quiet and silence was his own personal hell, so he always needed some sort of background noise to help him out. 

Bucky tried getting some sleep again; tossing and turning on the wooden flooring but he couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was racing, too many thoughts at once. He checked the time, the clock read 1 a.m. He could go on a run, but he didn’t really feel like it. He could go to the gym, but he didn’t feel like working out either. 

He needed something. An escape, a friend. You, he needed you. 

Bucky reached for his phone, and a few taps later he was calling you. He knew it was late but you somehow always picked up his calls no matter what the time was. The rings later, he heard your voice speak up from the other end. 

“Buck?” You sounded sleepy, but not like he had woken you up, you sounded like you were about to fall asleep. 

He closed his eyes and sighed at the sound of your voice. He could picture you, all tucked in your comfy bed, surrounded by pillows and your soft blankets. Perhaps you had lost track of time because of a good book, or perhaps you were up late responding to emails for work. 

“Hey doll. Did I wake you up?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of his living room, his legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Only sometimes did he feel like he was taking advantage of your kindness, but then again he could be selfish when it came to you. You were his, and that’s that. 

You let out a little laugh. “Of course not, Bucky. I was just finishing up some work.” He could hear your sheets shuffling, “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?” you asked, softly. 

Bucky told you he did. Then he went on to tell you exactly what he had dreamt of. Sometimes he felt like he was opening up more to you than his shrink. But truth is, you made him feel like he was more than just a broken soldier, or a problem who needed to be remedied or fixed. You made him feel like he was human after all. 

“I… I’m trying to fall back asleep but…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say it, you understood perfectly. He knew you did. 

Then he heard his favorite words coming from you, “Come over Buck, I’m waiting.” 

He wasted no time in getting up from the floor and getting dressed. Dark jeans, shirt, jacket and not to forget his gloves. Sometimes he wondered why he felt so giddy when you asked him to come over, which was almost every night. He wondered what it would be like to come home to you every night instead, had it been a perfect world. He always felt like he was clinging to you too much, for everything. But then you always told him that you didn’t mind. You told him you loved his company. 

He grabbed his helmet before stepping out of his apartment. There was a light drizzle outside but he didn’t care, he just needed to be with you. He got down the stairs and then rushed to start his mean bike and then rushed to your apartment building. You lived in a much nicer part of the city than he did, and he often wondered why you were putting up with someone like him when you could have a man who would give you a life you’ve always dreamt of. He often asked you that, but you always just smiled at him, you never answered. 

On his way up to your floor, he couldn’t help but feel all warm in the elevator. He counted down the seconds till he could see you. He often slept over at your place, he loved it. Cuddling, making love, followed by lazy mornings, him trying to get you to not go to work and spend the day with him instead. He loved how you made him feel. 

He knocked on your door, already taking off his gloves because he needed to feel your skin against his. Your body heat made him feel so much better. He heard you unlocking the door from the other side and not even a second later, he saw your pretty face smiling at him. Dressed in silk PJ shorts and a t-shirt, you looked breathtakingly beautiful even at one thirty in the morning. 

“Hello there,” you greeted him, smirking. “That was fast.” You teased, opening the door wider to let him in. 

He smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and pulling you in for a hug immediately. You felt his slightly damp and cold jacket press against you but you hugged him back tightly anyways. 

“I needed to see you.” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck. 

“I know.” 

-

You and Bucky ended up in your bed, cuddling under the blankets. He loved the dimmed night light you always had on, knowing that he hated being in complete darkness. He loved how cozy your room was, how spacious and airy but also warm and comfortable. 

The large window by your bed showed a lovely view of the city lights, which were right now blurred by the foggy glass, thanks to the light drizzle earlier. He could tell that the air was cold outside, but in here with you everything was just right. 

He had stripped down to just his boxers and he laid his head on your chest, his face facing away from yours, while you played with his hair and occasionally ran your hand down his back, scratching his skin lightly. His cold metal arm lazily ran up and down your thighs and he noticed the goosebumps on your skin that he was causing. 

He could hear your steady heartbeats and that was his favorite sound in the entire world. It calmed him down. 

You looked down, smiling softly at the sight of the muscular soldier using you as a human pillow. You could hear him let out quiet moans as you gently scratched his scalp. You still remembered the first time you two met, at a bar. 

-

It was late on a winter night, and the nearby bar was rather empty; just a few people here and there. And a certain muscular man in a dark leather jacket caught your eye. He was sitting at the counter, and you were in one of the booths. Eventually, you got up and decided to go talk to him. 

You recognized him immediately. Ex-Winter Soldier, Captain America’s best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

Small talks turned into a couple more rounds of beers. He was a little off and awkward at first but he loosened up eventually. He even walked you back to your car, not wanting you to be alone in the dark, foggy and empty parking lot. 

That was the first time he kissed you, right before he opened the door of your car for you. 

“Will I see you again?” He asked, high off the adrenaline which coursed through his veins ever since you kissed him back. 

“Of course you will. Good night, James.” You kissed his cheek before getting into your car and driving off. 

-

A smile formed on your face as you thought of that night. “Do you remember the first time we met?” You asked softly. 

Bucky turned his face to you, placing his head back on your chest. He was so close that all you needed to do was to lean in a little to kiss his soft, pink lips. 

He smiled. “Yeah, why?” 

“No reason, I just wanted you to remember it.” 

Bucky chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss on your skin, right above your breasts. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What is it?” 

You just smiled at him, “Nothing. You’ve been awfully quiet too.” And judging by the look in his eyes, you could already tell there was something else to his silence. “What is it?” 

He was quiet. 

Sighing, you flipped the two of you around; straddling his waist while he laid comfortably against your multiple pillows. 

“Buck, tell me.” You pressed your palms against his chest to hold yourself up. 

“Sam needs my help with something. Another bad guy, another mission, another fight. Same old.” He sounded indifferent. 

You couldn’t blame him. He had been fighting for decades, non-stop. He had lost so much while doing so, but he also didn’t know how to deal with the calm, and silence and the quiet. There was so much he needed to figure out about himself still. 

“Do you not wanna go?” 

He smiled faintly as he lazily rubbed up and down your exposed thighs. “It’s my job, I have to. Innocent people will be hurt if I don’t. I want to help them.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” 

“I’ll have to leave you behind for a little while.” He didn’t want to. He didn’t know how to be away from you anymore because he hadn’t been for months now. The thought of not being able to hold you close at night and having your heartbeats lull him to sleep was scary.

You smiled down at him. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bucky.” 

He reached out and cupped your face with his metal hand. “And what if you find someone better while I’m gone?” 

You frowned down at him. “Where does that come from?” 

He gently stroked your cheek. “I’m just saying. You deserve someone a little more… normal.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Normal is boring, you seem perfectly fine to me.” 

He chuckled. “Why do you put up with me, doll?” It was a rhetorical question, he didn’t expect an answer because he had asked you this countless number of times but you never gave him a reply before. 

However, you did this time. “Because I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You had been meaning to tell him this for a while now. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know that no one’s ever gonna replace you. I love you.” 

He was a little surprised, his heart raced as he processed everything. How could someone as gentle, kind and beautiful like you fall for someone as broken as him? “Doll… I…” 

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You giggled, then pulled away to look at him. “You deserve all the good things in this world, Buck. You deserve to be loved, and cared for. And if you’d let me, I’d love to show you that.” 

You carefully pressed your lips to his, kissing him with all the love you had. His metal hand held you at the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss; turning your mind into a foggy mess for a little while before he pulled away and stared deep into your eyes. 

You reached out and gently caressed his face, Bucky leaned into your touch. “I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow, perhaps.” 

You leaned in for a kiss again, accidentally brushing your crotch against his erection; making him smirk through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. You purposely moved against him while you kissed him again deeply. 

Bucky soon flipped the two of you back around and settled in between your legs, kissing down your neck. “I’m gonna miss making love to you almost every night.” He whispered against your skin. His voice alone sent chills down your back, and made you feel all sorts of warm and tingly feelings inside. 

Bucky movements were gentle and slow as he took your clothes off, making sure you were both under the warm covers still; kissing you occasionally as he undressed you, and caressed your body as you squirmed under him. 

He kissed his way down your body, until his face was right in between your legs. You moaned as he parted your legs and placed a kiss on your inner thigh, pulling your underwear down your legs and kissing his way back to your wet folds. You threw your head back, and bit your lip; whining when you felt his tongue teasing you gently. The warmth of his mouth was driving you insane. 

His tongue gently teased your clit while his fingers slipped inside of you; stroking you gently while you arched your back off the surface of your bed as the pleasure became slightly overwhelming. You whimpered and squirmed under him as his tongue moved perfectly against you.

He had you coming undone all over his tongue and his fingers in no time, and he licked you clean when he was done. Kissing his way up your body again. “I’m gonna miss your taste.” He was shameless enough to whisper it in your ear; making you blush. 

His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him. You whined as he slipped his metal fingers past your entrance yet again. His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot. “And I’m gonna miss your warmth.” 

“Buck…” You moaned quietly as he replaced his fingers with his cock. 

He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow your whimpers and moans as he pushed his cock into you. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head and watched you grimace in pleasure and pain as his cock stretched you to your maximum. He watched you in awe as your lips parted and you moaned his name once he filled you up nicely. 

You whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force. 

He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him. You heard him swear and felt him bite down on your lip as he sped up into you. He tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips; rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed. Your back arched off the surface of the bed again and your chest pressed to his.  

“I’m gonna miss watching you squirm under me…” he whispered, “as I pleasure you like no one ever will.” He moaned into your ear. “You’re mine.” 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. There was something about the way he kissed you, deeply and passionately; as though he was scared you might just get away from him.

He worshipped your body. He mumbled how good you felt in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He kissed you roughly as he pounded into you; his metal fingers wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure. 

He pressed his forehead on yours; looking down to where your bodies connected so intimately. Then he pulled away to look into your eyes with that animalistic, primal and fiery look in his eyes. His lips parted as he panted while he fucked you like he owned you.

“You’re gonna miss me too aren’t you, doll?” 

You nodded, whining in pleasure. He smirked. His hand left your neck and slid in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit, earning a loud moan out of you. “Say it, baby. Tell me how much you’re gonna miss my cock buried deep inside you…” 

You couldn’t talk as the pressure in between your legs became too much to handle, and you craved for release. He noticed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

“Come on, cum for me… doll,” he swore as he felt you clench around him perfectly. You came hard around him, moaning and whimpering under him as he finished right after you; kissing your swollen lips deeply as he came.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. And you cradled his head; panting as well. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp as he calmed his racing heart. A few moments later, he shifted all his weight right on top of you making you laugh as you tried to scoot out from under him. 

He groaned and pulled you closer. “Come here.” He pressed you against his body and wrapped his arms around. “I love you too, doll. So much.” 

You buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. “I’m gonna miss you. All of you.” You lifted your head up to look at him smiling down at you. “Come back fast.” 

He chuckled. “You know I will. No matter where I go, I’ll always come crawling back to you.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine

[narutogwriting]

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

#naruto #naruto uzumaki #naruto hc #naruto uzumaki hc #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto uzumaki headcanons #naruto uzumaki headcanon #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto uzumaki imagine #naruto uzumaki imagines #naruto drabble #naruto uzumaki drabble #naruto drabbles #naruto uzumaki drabbles #naruto x reader #naruto x oc #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki x oc #naruto ff #naruto fanfiction #naruto uzumaki ff #naruto uzumaki fanfiction #naruto oneshot #naruto one shot #naruto uzumaki one shot #naruto uzumaki oneshot #naruto fluff #naruto angst

[mercy-burning]

Heatwave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The air conditioning is out at the BAU, so things get very hot—in more ways than one. Category: Smut 18+ (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie / minor breeding kink, sex in an elevator) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

***

"Oh, fuck, that's it!"

The exclamation nearly knocked Spencer off his feet. He would know her voice anywhere, so he didn't have to look to know that it was Y/N, but he looked anyway, sure enough spotting her on the opposite end of the bullpen, sorting through files at her desk.

If Hotch was any closer, he would have given her a warning look to signal his distaste for her swearing in the office, but his door was shut while he talked with someone so it never came.

"Wha—what did you find?" Spencer got out after clearing his throat to compose himself. It was bad enough he had already been distracted by her before, thinking about what it would be like to feel her hands weaved through his hair as she kissed him, but then she had to say that sentence of all things, slightly enhancing the fantasy.

It also didn't help that the air conditioning in the building was currently out, and in the middle of August. So when he looked up, he saw a low-cut, baby pink tank top with lace detailing on the hem, and a pulled-up hairdo that perfectly exposed her neck, which was currently glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The way she leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under a loose, knee-length floral skirt as she mulled over her file was giving him too many bad ideas, and it was a wonder he hadn't been caught or called out yet—everyone could always tell when he was thinking or off in his own world.

"Oh," Y/N said, briefly craning her head to meet his eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder when their gazes finally met. "I just misplaced one of my files, that's all. I was afraid I'd lost it. But it's right here," she said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't... bother you did I?"

"Oh! N—no, you didn't bother me at all, I... I was just wondering, that's all. I—I'm glad you found your file." He hated that he stumbled over his words, but when she looked at him like that, that sickeningly sweet kindness in her eyes that never wavered when she talked to him, he couldn't help it. She was easily the most intimidatingly angelic presence he'd ever met, in every capacity possible.

Even as she quickly frowned and shifted slightly in her chair, her eyes didn't lose that sparkle. But it was still evident that she was uncomfortable, so Spencer spoke again. "Are you okay?"

She set the file down on her desk and sat up straighter, bringing her back up off the chair as she uncrossed her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the heat. I hate it. I'm definitely more of a cold, rainy day-type of girl, I guess."

Odd, considering you're just about the warmest soul I've ever met, he thought. Even as she talked about her distaste for the heat, she kept her voice light and her eyes kind.

"Hmm," is all he said, shortly and barely loud enough for her to hear.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by rather quickly, which Spencer was thankful for; the longer the day moved forward, the hotter it got, and it proved to be more distracting than he wanted to admit.

But soon he would be able to go home and take a cold shower, for one thing to cool off, but for another to relieve some of this feeling Y/N had been making him feel. He tried really hard throughout the day not to look at her, but he always found himself drawn to her anyway, and each time it happened he thought of dirtier and dirtier things, scenarios that he was positive could only happen in his wildest dreams.

But as usual, things didn't seem to work in his favor today. Just as he and Y/N were about to get onto the elevator, Hotch walked by, calling to them. "Sorry to ask you guys of this, but could you stay another hour or two? There are more files I need to get sorted, and I know it's hot, so I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it would be helpful if I had an extra set of hands."

Two more hours at most, he could manage that, right? And at least he'd have more files to keep him occupied, something to focus on.

Hotch sent them to the file room with a list of the files he needed, and then it was just the two of them, stepping onto the elevator and sealing their fate.

It wasn't four seconds after the elevator started moving that it stopped and the lights inside dimmed red.

"Wait, what's happening?" Y/N asked, slightly panicked.

Spencer was just as puzzled. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with the heat?"

About a minute passed before she sighed, shoving her phone in her bag. "Yeah. Just got a text from Garcia, the power in the building shut down so they could fix the air conditioning. It's gonna take like a half hour."

"A—A half hour? Really?" He tried not to show how nervous it made him, but truthfully he didn't think it would work.

Y/N sighed. "Yeah... It's... fine, though, I mean, maybe someone will try to get us out."

"But we're in between two floors..."

Another sigh. "And it's hot as hell in here. Great... So much for going home early."

Spencer snuck a glance over at her, almost immediately regretting it when he looked her over. Under the deep red glow of the emergency lights, she looked absolutely sinful. Her bag was dropped on the ground and she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and pushing up her breasts. Her head was leaned back and her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, no doubt trying to stay as calm as one could be in this situation. He noticed every breath she took, her chest rising and falling and her skin glowing. And in that moment he embarrassingly felt something stir in his lower stomach, only made worse by the fact that it was, as she'd phrased it, 'hot as hell' in the elevator. He was hot and practically squirming as he stood there, ogling Y/N like she was the only woman he'd ever seen before.

As if it couldn't get any worse, she opened her eyes quickly and caught him staring at her chest. He didn't seem to notice because, well, his eyes were elsewhere, so she closed them once more and smirked to herself for the briefest of seconds, an idea striking her brain like a match.

She brought her arms to slowly un-cross and stretch outwards to her sides, arching her back and puffing out her chest as she gripped the rail of the elevator. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw that Spencer's head was directed pointedly to the floor. She smiled a little, keeping her arms stretched out across the rail as she took him in.

The first thing she took notice of was how his hair stuck to his face, wavy and damp with sweat. His fingers tapped against his legs, and that's what she looked at the longest. Every time his middle finger tapped the outside of his thigh, she imagined that he was doing it to her clit, and she could practically feel it throb to the slow, steady beat of his finger. Her hands gripped the rail tighter and she crossed her legs, contemplating whether or not she should take advantage of this moment to finally do something about this tension she'd been feeling between them for the past year and a half.

The truth is, she'd always had a crush on him since they started working together. But when she started her job at the BAU, he was... a little odd. Every time she would join in conversation, he'd made it a point to look almost inconvenienced by her presence. At first she had to wonder if maybe he just didn't like her. And if that was the case, she didn't want to make it worse by asking him about it, so she left it alone. But then she noticed how he was like that with everyone, and then over time he seemed to get better. Eventually he warmed up to her and the two of them became fast friends. He'd quickly transformed from a guy who always seemed annoyed with everyone and into the adorably shy, brilliant man everyone had told her he was when she first got the job.

Now there had been almost two years' worth of a different kind of tension between them, and in this moment in the elevator, Y/N wanted to do something about it. Or at least try.

She thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to bring it up. Should she be straightforward? You know, flat-out tell him that she's liked him for a long time and wanted to kiss his face off? Or did she want to have more fun with it? Because she admittedly loved seeing him get flustered every time he noticed her noticing him staring at her, but if he really didn't feel the same way, she didn't want to come on too strong and ruin this thing they'd built.

Ultimately, Y/N decided to try a little of both.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hey, Spence?"

When he looked up at her, his stomach flipped again. Fuck, she was just so breathtaking, her arms spread and her legs crossed like she was the queen of the elevator and he was trespassing just by being there. Her chin was tilted upwards, exposing more of her neck, and it almost made him fall over. "Y—Yeah?" he stammered quietly, trying and failing to sound calm.

"What should we do to pass the time? I'm bored."

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he she was suggesting they— No. There was no way. He'd been a total jerk to her when they first met, and even though they were much friendlier now, Spencer wasn't sure she could ever want to do anything like that with him.

Right?

"Um... I—I don't know. Your phone works, doesn't it? Do you, um... Do you have anything you could do there?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Battery's almost dead, and I want to save it in case something happens and we get stuck in here for longer than thirty minutes... I was thinking, actually... We haven't really gotten to know each other that well, and maybe would play... like 20 Questions or something."

"Oh..." He swallowed, shifting on his feet and blinking. "Well, um... W—what do you want to know?"

"Hmm... Favorite color?" She knew it was purple, but she wanted to hear him talk. Get him comfortable.

"Purple. What's yours?"

She leaned forward off the rail a little, and Spencer swallowed again, suddenly feeling a burst of warmth through his body.

"Light pink," Y/N said softly, "like so light that it's almost white."

He glanced down at her chest again, only for a moment to take in her shirt, which he'd remembered was the same color.

She continued. "What's your favorite snack food?"

"Pretzels."

"Me, too. Hmm... Favorite candle scent?"

"Peppermint."

"Spearmint. Favorite Star Wars movie?"

"Return of the Jedi."

"A New Hope. Favorite sex position?"

"Doggy."

She didn't say another word.

He wasn't even aware of the situation until about five seconds later, when she raised an eyebrow at him and his whole world came crumbling down.

As he visibly struggled to find words, Y/N only continued in conversation. "That surprises me. I would have thought you'd be more of a cowgirl guy."

If the way her voice sounded when she talked to him was the handle, then the way her eyes bore into his own was the blade, both of them coming together to create the weapon that would be his ultimate demise. The only thing missing was that twist of the blade, the one that would make sure he was gone for good, and the moment she leaned completely off the railing and took a small step towards him, he realized that final ingredient was her touch. If she touched him, he was done for.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what mine is? That's how the game works."

There's no way she wasn't flirting with him... Right? He was never good at picking up on those kinds of things, but she was being so obvious about it, stepping closer and closer to him with her chest puffed out and her head tilted to the side to reveal her neck. She was inviting him in, right? Especially after asking him to ask her that question.

That question...

Right.

"Um..." Spencer swallowed before speaking, his voice barely discernible. "What's... y—your favorite sex position?"

"Doggy. Especially standing up," she said with what was most definitely a flirty smile. "Looks like you and I have quite a bit in common."

"Y—yeah, I guess we... do..."

By now she had him backed against the other side of the elevator, and as soon as he felt his back hit the rail, he swallowed again, bringing his hand up to the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.

It didn't work, unsurprisingly.

"Look, if... If I'm overstepping, you should tell me. But I've liked you for a long time, and I feel like I'd be dumb to waste the perfect opportunity to tell you... So... The elevator probably won't be fixed for another twenty minutes at least, and since we're already on the subject... Maybe we should find another way to pass the time?"

Spencer noticed that she was careful not to actually touch him unless he gave her the go-ahead, and if anything it made him want her even more. She was giving him an out, and he knew that if he told her 'no', she wouldn't push it.

But here she was, in all her beautiful, radiant glory, practically inviting him to indulge in some of his biggest fantasies, and he would have to be brain-dead to pass that up. Even if he was a little nervous.

He tried to give her permission in a way that didn't make himself come off as some obsessed admirer, a shaky, breathy laugh exhaling from his throat before he spoke. "Well, it's already hot as hell in here, so... What's a little more heat?"

At first he regretted saying it, scared it was stupid and most definitely a mood-killer, but the way she practically lunged at him completely washed away all the worries written in the sand. And when her body pressed firmly against his, her lips coming to capture his in the most burning kiss he'd ever had, the waves crashed even stronger, loud with searing desire as warm as the August sun.

Immediately he brought his hands to cradle her face, loving the way he almost engulfed her with their size. He moved his lips against hers eagerly as her hands worked at unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She only got the first few done before pulling away, and despite the heat, Spencer felt cold without her pressed up against him.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when she suddenly turned them both around and bent forward, leaning out to grab the rail, he felt warm again.

She turned her head around to look at him with a smile through a bit bottom lip as she reached one of her hands under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, pooling around her ankles, she lifted the skirt up and revealed herself to him, slowly running her fingers through her pussy.

"It's all yours, Doctor Reid," she said lowly, spreading her legs as far as they could go with her panties still confining her ankles.

He hadn't even realized he'd undone his pants until they were at his feet and his dick was in his hand. How had she managed to have that great of an affect on him?

He promptly decided he didn't care how, as he stepped forward and brought himself up to her ass and ran the head of his cock through her pussy, briefly meeting her fingers as he did so. "Are you sure?" he asked. Because once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He already lost his mind just being in her presence, but being this close to her, fucking her in a broken elevator would surely hinder his ability to think about anything rationally, let alone at all.

"Fuck me, please," she all but begged, pushing herself back a little to encourage him. Either that or she was just desperate, though there was a good chance it was both.

In any case, that was all he needed, the trigger that set him off, and within seconds he was plunged deep inside her, the both of them softly moaning out at how it felt.

Spencer set a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping her waist as she pushed back to meet his every move. Each thrust forward was another twist of the blade that sealed his fate, only made more brutal by the pure filth that dripped from Y/N's lips, a symphony of long, drawn out moans and curses that sounded just as loving as they did pornographic.

When she bent forward even more, so much that he could see her hands outstretched on the rail, it gave him the deepest angle he could possibly be at, and she clenched herself around him, calling out his name.

"Fuck, Y/N, keep doing that," Spencer breathed out, shutting his eyes at the sensation.

He could hear her laugh a little. "That feel good, baby? Huh, you like when my pussy clings to you?"

Each word was fuel that quickened his pace inside of her, and joined with the way his hands were wrapped around her, the very tips of his fingers felt her stomach bulge at every snap of his hips. He spread his right hand across her lower stomach to feel it, groaning out as he did.

He didn't even realize he'd said his next words out loud, but after she groaned out and clenched around him tighter, he knew she'd heard and liked what he was saying.

"God, I wanna cum inside you so fucking bad..."

She turned her head again to see him as best as she could, doing the most to come off as desperate as she felt. "Fuck, Spence, do it, please, I want your cum inside me, please..."

A few more quick thrusts inside of her was enough to make her cum, her mouth open in a silent scream as she stopped moving back against him and just let him pound into her. He followed closely behind, brokenly moaning out her name as he stilled and pulsated inside of her.

"Ohh, that's it," she said to him with wonder as she stayed clamped tightly around him, trying to get every last drop. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good..."

In a moment of blind lust at her words, Spencer pulled out just until only the tip was inside, before quickly and deeply fucking into her once more, holding himself inside for about five seconds as she cried out. He repeated that so many times he couldn't keep count. Or maybe it was only two times, and he was just to drunk on her to notice. However long he did it for, they both relished in the feeling before they were both overstimulated and out of breath.

While any other time he would have loved to see his cum drip down her legs, since they were at work he decided to lift her panties up instead, relishing in the way she whimpered when they were on all the way. He made sure to pull them up tight, so she could feel his cum soak them as she stood upwards.

He scrambled to put his pants back on as she caught her breath, leaning against the wall of the elevator with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. He watched her intently as her hand drifted under her skirt and rubbed herself through her underwear, letting out whimpers and ragged breaths upon feeling what he'd done to her. The sweat that had just started to form on her body earlier due to the heat was now dripping down her neck and over her chest, and he was once again mesmerized by her.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered aloud. Of course he'd meant to say it to himself in his head, but he wasn't thinking straight. She'd utterly wrecked him.

Y/N opened her eyes and smiled, taking him in as well. His hair was wild, all over the place and just as sexy as she'd found it before. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, no thanks to her, revealing a glistening chest and making her pussy throb once more, knowing what they'd just done and how... hot the whole situation was, for lack of a better term.

As if she needed a reminder, more of his cum seeped into the fabric of her underwear, warm and ever present, which made her bite her lip and sigh. "Yep... Doggy is definitely my favorite position."

"Especially standing up," he added, a small smile adorning his lips.

They laughed as the elevator lights came back on, and the weight of what they'd just done came crashing down as with it.

Y/N shuffled to the other side of the elevator to grab her back, almost gasping at the way his cum felt in her panties when she moved. She was afraid it would come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it except for hope.

The two of them were quiet when the door opened and Garcia met them in the lobby.

"Oh, thank God! I feel so bad I didn't warn you in time before you got stuck in th— Your faces are all red, geez! Was it really that hot in there?"

Thankfully the heatwave gave them both an alibi.

"Y—Yeah," Spencer said with a nod, stepping out of the elevator. "That's twice now I've been stuck in an elevator, and I really wish it would stop happening."

The girls laughed as the three of them made their way to cooler air.

Spencer and Y/N fell in step behind their friend and shared a knowing look as the approached the file room.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

[twiixr4kidz]

HI THERE IM BACK I LOVED THE LAST FICCC :DDD

okok this time I was thinking a comfort fic with duncan or harold bc im not feelin too good today

– signed beloved bat anon 🦇

HIHI YES BAT ANON!! HERE'S A SWEET LITTLE HAROLD X READER COMFORT FIC, COMING RIGHT UP >:)) i know i couldn't get to this the day you sent it in, so i hope ur feeling better!! i've been having a pretty rough day too, and it made me feel a lot better to write this <3

harold x reader comfort <33

you were having a shitty day. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and ever since then, it felt like everything had gone wrong. you were irritable, tired, and upset. every minor inconvenience that occurred was pissing you off, and all you needed was a few minutes to relax.

you sat down on your couch with your head in your hands. you see, you'd made yourself a bowl of ramen to try to comfort yourself. and guess what happened? you threw the seasoning packet in the trash.

talk about forgetful.

"fuck this," you grumbled. you'd never been so upset over something as dumb as ramen. you were tired of dealign with today alone, so you resorted to calling your nerd of a boyfriend.

you had to call him twice before he realized it was you. he picked up, responding with a comfort, "hey honey, what's wrong?" he could tell in your voice that you were having an awful day.

all of a sudden, all of those feelings came back. you felt tears fall down your face as you let out a sob. it took harold no time before he said, "i'll be over in a sec, you stay put."

he hung up and kept his promise, showing up a little over 15 minutes later. "babe?" he called, opening the door. you were laying on the couching, facing away from your tv, swallowed in several blankets. he had to pry the blankets off of you in order to get you to respond.

"hmmmrhhrfmghrhgmr," you mumbled out something he literally could not understand (probably because your face was smashed into a pillow). he sat you up as best he could, and let you flop into his chest. "bad day?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. you nodded into his shoulder, and he could feel it getting just the littlest bit damp.

"shh, i know today was hard, but i'm here now," he spoke. his words were quiet, calm, comforting. he smelled like really good cologne. you could feel yourself calming down.

"want me to order a pizza and put on a movie?" he asked. your tears had dried up long ago, and you were cuddled against him, once again wrapped in a blanket.

"yeah, that'd be nice." you said with a weak smile.

you couldn't begin to thank harold for making you feel better; you knew he wasn't going to accept it because it was "just my duty as a good boyfriend", but you were still so thankful for him being there for you.

he was psychic; somehow, no matter what, he could always make you feel better.

#harold #harold tdi #total drama island #harold x reader #harold tdi x reader