#Soarings Ask Box

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea. 

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever. 

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

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[chuluoyi]

✎ sick days

- gojo satoru x reader

who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs

note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.

With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.

“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”

Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.

His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”

Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”

As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.

Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.

“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”

When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.

And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.

"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.

As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."

"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.

Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"

But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.

Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.

Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.

“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.

“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”

“Fwah!”

“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”

Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.

“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”

Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.

Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.

“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”

“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.

“Why are you so against me?!”

After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.

Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.

“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”

Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.

And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.

Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.

“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”

“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”

Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.

“Don’t spank him!”

“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”

“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”

Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.

And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.

Epilogue

“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”

Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”

You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.

You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”

Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.

“Did he just poo on me?!”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x you #gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #dad!gojo #satoru gojo fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jutusu kaisen x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo

[writersdrug]

Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 2

<- Previous - Next ->

Warnings: light cursing, light nsfw, Simon being the tiniest bit of a creep

A/N: so originally this was just a fluffy thought I had a few weeks ago... it's slowly turning into a longer, multi-chapter series, and Simon is a bit darker than I had intended him to be... but the story is still going to stay relatively normal (there will be full NSFW further down the line, lol)!

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

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

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

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

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the croissants

buttercup, chapter one

a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.

summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)

word count: 2415

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“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?” 

Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”

“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”

“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”

Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.

“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”

“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.” 

“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.” 

Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”

“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”

“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”

As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out. 

Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”

“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”

“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.” 

“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.

“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.

“Bye!”

You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up. 

Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door. 

“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up. 

Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.

“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?” 

“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.

“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”

But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”

Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open. 

“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment. 

Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own. 

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!” 

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around. 

“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him. 

Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”

“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”

“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.” 

After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.

“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined. 

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first. 

“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction. 

“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”

“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?” 

“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”

“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”

“You?”

“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship. 

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”

“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”

“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”

“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.

“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”

“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”

“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”

“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”

“Yep.”

“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”

“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”

“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.” 

“Really?” 

“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”

“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”

“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”

“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words. 

But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”

The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.

Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”

Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”

Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”

“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”

“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”

Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks. 

As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips. 

Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?” 

“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue. 

“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”

“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”

“Sure, I like croissants.”

“Oh, great, wonderful!”

Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”

“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear. 

It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again. 

“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.” 

As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.  

“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!” 

And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared. 

“Night.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

[barcaatthemoon]

lover || leah williamson x reader ||

your friendship with leah was never destined to stay as such.

you had moved around for your entire life. you grew up as an army brat, going from station to station as your parents were moved around. it was rare for you to be in one place for more than maybe six months at a time. so, whenever you started playing soccer professionally, you weren't too upset to be one of the frequently traded players in the nwsl. you had spent four seasons playing there before being called over to arsenal for a long-term contract.

staying stagnant wasn't something that you were good at. it felt weird to sign a multiple year lease on your apartment. still, you were proud of yourself. you could be the one to break the cycle of constantly moving around in your family. the idea of settling down somewhere sounded nice, and london was a great city.

you quickly got to know your teammates overseas. you found a best friend in your captain, leah. the two of you had been fairly friendly playing against each other internationally, but had never really gotten to know each other off of the pitch. now that you were on the same team, you had taken the chance to become close friends.

"does it count as a team bonding night if it's just the two of us?" you asked as you spread out on leah's couch. she had a few movies lined up for the two of you to watch. there had been a team bonding night, but leah had whisked you away at the last second, claiming that they had gotten enough of your time already.

you knew that wasn't true. you spent nearly every night at leah's or with her at your place. leah liked coming over for dinner because you hated going out to eat. most of the restaurants that were quick and nearby were decent, but not something you wanted to eat regularly. the jokes about british food had definitely not come out of nowhere.

"we're on the team, and besides, we need to have all the chemistry we can," leah said. you rolled your eyes a little as you leaned your head against the palm of your hand. leah moved into the space in front of you, draping your arm across her midsection as she pressed play on the screen. leah fell asleep pretty quickly, leaving you to lie awake with the thoughts of how nice it felt to have leah in your arms. it wasn't like you were in love with leah williamson, you just had sprouted some feelings for her with all the time you'd been spending together.

…

"come on, let's go!" you smiled to yourself as you heard alessia shout at you from the bench. she was going crazy beside leah, who was equally as excited as you played. leah was yelling and shouting, but it was being drowned out by the majority of the other players cheering you on.

"come on baby!" leah's voice rang out as you managed to fight your way into the box. it was a 1-v-1 with mary, who you knew wouldn't let you get a shot in so easily. you could have kicked it back for an assist, but you wanted to score a goal for leah. she wasn't quite cleared yet, and something told you that it'd be good for her morale.

you took your shot and watched as it soared high above mary's hand. the ball slotted perfectly in the top left corner, which was a shot that you had a lot of difficulty getting before. the team went crazy as you ran over to the sidelines by your team's bench. leah was the first one up to her feet to greet you. you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, one that she reciprocated fully.

"good job out there. that was beautiful," leah told you. your cheeks flushed at the compliment, which you'd pass off as the heat if anybody pressed you about it. your teammates didn't seem to care about that, only that you had pushed arsenal into the lead with that goal. you went back out onto the pitch to resume play with a little pep in your step.

at the end of the game, you shook hands with the other team before going to find leah. she was waiting for you with an extra water bottle in her hands. you happily accepted it, knowing that she had snagged one with your favorite flavoring inside. you managed to down half of it in a couple of gulps, absolutely parched after playing like that.

"you keep playing like that and we'll have to make sure that you bleed red and white." a couple of your teammates patted the top of your head as they lazily embraced you. you watched the majority of the group go talk to fans in the stands, leaving you and leah all alone with each other.

"i think that was your best game yet," leah told you. you shrugged it off as you sat down on the bench, ready to rest your legs for a bit. leah pulled them up onto her lap and started to rub the knots out of your thighs for you. "we've all noticed how hard you work to stay in good form. you don't have to do all of that, but we appreciate it."

"i want to be good. i want to make you proud," you said. leah smiled as she leaned towards you a little. her forehead was almost resting against yours and it would have been so easy to kiss her, but you didn't. you couldn't kiss leah, she was your best friend and it had to stay that way if you'd make it for the rest of your contract with arsenal. no matter how badly you wanted to roll around like horny teenagers on the pitch together.

"i'll always be proud of you, win or lose," leah promised. she glanced down at your lips, and for a moment, you thought she'd kiss you. instead, she pressed a kiss to your cheek before pushing your legs off of her. "let's get you a shower. how does that sound?"

…

the midseason break following your big win seemed to have called for a team night out. usually, you were the type to stay inside of look for a low-key bar, but the girls insisted on a club. leah seemed to want it just as badly, so you agreed to go with them for her sake. it was becoming more and more obvious to you that your feelings for leah weren't going anywhere. there were even times whenever you swore that she had to have felt the same way.

still, you kept your feelings to yourself. that was something you had always been good at. at least, it was something that you were good at sober. drunk was a completely different story. after shots with the girls, a couple of your own cocktails, and a few more shots snuck in with the backline, you were stumbling around as an open book.

"have you met leah? she's the prettiest girl in here. i think that i'd like to kiss her," you said to a complete stranger. they gave you a weird look as your teammates came over to collect you. leah wasn't in the group, instead somewhere over by the bar chatting up a girl you thought was way under leah's league. "why doesn't she just flirt with me? i mean, we spend all our time together, we're practically dating. i already think i'm falling in love with her."

"excuse me?" beth shouted in your ear. you winced at the sudden loud noise, which you hadn't been expecting. they managed to get you out of the club, but in taking you away had caught leah's attention.

"i said that i think i'm in love with leah. i think i've been in love with her for a while now," you repeated, unaware of the object of your affections being right there. you heard the click of heels behind you and turned your head to see leah. the alcohol was a godsend, allowing you to have forgotten about your love confession. "there you are, i've been waiting for you all night. can we go back inside and dance? please?"

"i think that you need to go home," leah said as she put her arm beneath yours to support you. "who let you drink like this?"

"the girls, we had a competition," you said proudly. leah laughed a little at how cute you were. "will you take me home? oh, and canwe watch movies together? i love it when we cuddle on the couch."

"shh," leah shushed you. she hadn't been drinking nearly as much as you, so she was still easily embarrassed. she whisked you away into an uber before any of the girls could question her about the cuddling. leah held you close in the backseat of the car, trying desperately to ignore the way that you were making her heart pound in her chest.

she helped you up to your apartment, unsurprised when you asked her to stay. there had been a lot of close calls between the two of you, and tonight felt like the night when it'd all come to a head. leah averted her eyes the best she could while still helping you change. it was hard to remind herself that she didn't get to look at you like that and have the thoughts that she was.

"do you think you could hold me tonight?" you asked softly. leah noticed that you were signficantly less drunk than you had been, but the smell was still heavy all over you. you'd have to shower it off in the morning, as would leah if she held you throughout the night. "can i have a goodnight kiss?"

leah was apprehensive about kissing you while you were drunk, but she couldn't look you in the eyes and tell you no. she was slow and gentle, just barely giving you a peck on the lips. she began to move away when you let out a whine in protest. leah sighed as she rested her forehead against yours.

"kiss me harder," you told her. leah did as you asked every step of the way. she gave you exactly what you wanted until you started pawing at her clothes.

"not while you're drunk. if we take this next step, i need you to remember it, please," leah pleaded with you. you seemed to understand much better than leah had expected you to. instead of whining or protesting, you just shifted a little and let your hands press against leah's back. "goodnight, love."

"night leah," you mumbled against her chest. she closed her eyes and started counting down until she heard you snore, just barely getting through a few seconds. leah wasn't generally one for prayers, but she was praying to whoever would listen that you'd wake up in the morning feeling the same way about her.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

[merotwst]

I'D MARRY YOU WITH PAPER RINGS ! -— fluff

‹ . octavinelle ›

⇝they're proposing to you! here's how they wanted to propose vs. how it actually went down.

¬ established relationship; adult characters; mention of sex on floyd's part but only in passing loool; fluff; no pronouns used

[ n: i love domestic fluff so much!!! also exactly 1.2k follows today. thank you all so much! ]

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

—- how he wanted to propose: azul wanted to propose somewhere intimate where it could be just the two of you. a quiet garden dinner with the smell of roses wafting around or the evening sea breeze, yellow lights hanging overhead, bathing you in a warm glow. soft music, candles and wine. then he'd get down on one knee and you'd say yes. he plays it in his mind over and over again until he finally has the ring in a box inside his pocket and he has it all planned out.

—- how it went down: he was going to ask you on that dinner date that evening after several weeks of planning it out. down to the very last detail, azul has made sure everything would go according to plan. a big smile on your face as he took your hand to the candlelit dinner under the stars, looking lovely in your evening attire just for him. his palms were getting a bit sweaty and his head spinning lightly with the wine. he felt like backing down. but the sight of your gorgeous face and the thought of having this ring on your finger for life gave him the courage to get down on one knee. you can only imagine how his eyes twinkled with love, heart soaring to the moon and back when he heard your answer.

jade leech ‹ octavinelle ›

—- how he wanted to propose: he didn't really find himself the type of person to plan something overly-extravagant for a marriage proposal. so he was thinking he'd just ask you a simple question after taking you out on a simple date out. in fact, he hadn't even considered proposing until a year ago when you casually brought it up. now he couldn't get the thought out of his head. jade had a plan, of course. he was jade after all.

—- how it went down: remember when i said he had a plan? a plan to have you in just the right setting? the perfect atmosphere, the perfect moment to say yes? yeah that all went out the window. because one evening when he came home to you preparing dinner, smiling so sweetly as he entered the kitchen, he was mesmerised. it wasn't the first time he'd seen you cook for both of you. you were in your casual house clothes as you chopped the ingredients on the chopping board, but you were so beautiful. so perfect and worthy of all his love and loyalty. and then the weight of the ring in his pocket suddenly felt heavy as he walked towards you. he was rarely ever nervous but he stood there, his hand in his pocket fumbling with the small box hidden from your view. you looked up onto his heterochromic orbs, setting down the spatula and giving him your full attention. he planned to start off by asking you what you were cooking but the four words that came out of his mouth were different. and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lighten as he took in your expression. maybe that's the thing jade loved most about you. you always find a way to wreck all his plans in the best way possible.

floyd leech ‹ octavinelle ›

—- how he wanted to propse: he didn't. bitch he did not plan on proposing at all. he was living his best life with you! going on adventures, being in love and bomb ass sex. he couldn't ask for anything better. after all, what else is there to need? he thinks your relationship is already perfect as it is.

—- how it went down: he wasn't planning on proposing. never even crossed his mind until one day, when out on a trip with you, he spots some guy getting down on one knee for his partner. and as the crowds clapped and cheered while he spun his new fiance around, he glanced at you, clapping along with the people around the happy couple and he realized he didn't have everything yet. it took exactly five seconds before he grabbed your arm and said he wanted to get married too. and as before his words registered on your mind, you found yourself nodding yes. and that very same day you both got married somewhere. i'll let you imagine how floyd managed to pull that off, but he did. and now floyd was sure he had everything he wanted. well, at least not until he realizes he would want something more the next time something catches his eye, but you wouldn't change a thing about him.

© merotwst 2023 × do not copy, steal or reproduce without permission

#. merowrites #twisted wonderland #octavinelle #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #twstnexus

[oneforthemunny]

break the ice |hockey!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a scheduling mishap leads you and eddie to meet. or how you and hockey!eddie's story begins lol.

contains: eddie au. fluff. that's it. happy one year!

The hiss of the puck gliding over the ice, skittering into the goal, skates whizzing to a stop. It was comforting to Eddie. He’d never really known what people meant when they’d say “get in the zone” growing up, until he started playing again, playing for real this time. It was easy to focus on the sounds, silence your brain by tricking it to listen to the claps of the stick on the ice, the pop of the puck soaring, the- 

“Skidamarink a dink, a dink. Skidamarink a doo.” 

A clean miss, startled by the sudden blaring of music from behind him. Skates wobbling, knees locking into place. Eddie turned, squinting towards the other end of the rink. 

“Hey, hey!” Eddie skated, shouting over the music- horrendous at that, what was this song? 

“Excuse me,” You looked up, adjusting the volume on your boom box. “Hey, uh, sorry this is a closed practice.” Eddie skated to you, hockey stick waving exaggeratedly behind him. 

“Yeah it is.” You nodded, head tilting to the side slightly. “Are you… here to drop off?” 

“What? No, no, I-” Eddie paused, brows furrowed at you lightly. “I- this is my practice.” 

“Your practice?” You repeated, pointing at the ice below you. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re here for the Snowflakes?” 

“No, I play for-” Eddie shakes his head, hand running over his face. “Snowflakes? What-” 

“-The three to four year old class?” You press, brow raised, face contorted in what Eddie could only assume was your best judgment masking, though by the scrunch in your nose, it wasn’t working very well. “For ice skating lessons?” 

“Lessons? Sweetheart, c’mon, does it look like I need lessons?” Eddie grins, smug and sweet. His heart skips when you bite back a smile, lips twitching. “I’m- I rent out the time to practice.” 

“Oh,” You frown slightly. “I, uh, I did too.” 

“You know what, let me- let me just go ask Max.” Eddie flashes you a dazzling smile. “I’ll get it sorted out.” 

“You’re both right.” Max droned behind the desk, flipping through a magazine lazily. “Both of you have the slot for today.”

“What? Why-Why would Bobby book up both spots?” Eddie frowned. “That makes no fuckin’ sense. I’m here every Thursday-” 

Max huffed, snatching the scheduling paper off the back wall, slapping it on the desk. “Eddie Munson. Five to six-thirty. Left.” Her blue eyes raised in boredom. “That means, you’re on the left side.” 

“Left? This is- That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, Max, c’mon-” 

“-It’s Bobby.” Max rolled her eyes. “He’s trying to double book, make more money during the dead season. I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“So I have to practice with a bunch of fuckin’ kids running around?” Eddie huffs. “How the hell am I gonna do that? Huh? Do you hear the shit they’re playing in there?” Eddie throws a hand out towards the rink. “I’m already about to lose my mind.” 

“So get some ear plugs, Eddie, I don’t know.” Max huffed, throwing her hands up. “You know I can’t refund you, so either leave, or suck it up. I honestly don’t care, Munson, up to you.” 

Eddie’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek, rolling furiously. Bunch of kids skating all around him, screaming and shit, he’d never get anything done. 

Still, Eddie’s eyes wandered back to you. In your matching tracksuit, a powdery blue that seemed to shine even under the fluorescents of the rink. He supposed there could be worse people to share the ice with. He faced Tommy Raider again next season, and he’d rather be with a bunch of screaming toddlers anyday over him anyday. 

Besides, the kids weren’t so bad. The occasional screech or laughter when you’d have them do something silly. It was cute, honestly, Eddie decided, seeing these little kids wobble around on skates while you cooed enthusiastically at them. 

“Ok, my little flurries,” You grinned, cheeks aching from the amount of feigned enthusiasm you had to muster. “Next week we’re going to really work on our glide.” You pushed off dramatically, soaring a few spaces then stopping. 

It was so exaggerated, over the top and made the kids giggle; Eddie was sure he was in love. 

“So be sure to be practicing holding your arms way, way out!” You extended your arms, beaming at the few who mimicked you. “And I’ll see you all next week!” 

Eddie had spent the majority of the time practicing what he’d say to you, how he’d ask you out. A classic chat up line always worked at the bar, always helped him score. Still, his knees wobbled, tight and a little unsure as he skated over to you. 

You were waving goodbye to a student, stepping off to the bleachers to undo your own skates. “Hey,” Eddie’s voice cracked, wobbly and unsure in his throat, teeth clenching in a grimace.

You looked up, a tiny half smile in greeting. “Hi. Hope we didn’t bother you too much.” 

“What? No. No, no, no. No, you didn’t-” Eddie took a breath, heart hammering in his chest, ringing in his ears. “It was… Yeah, that was really fun to watch actually. The, uh, seeing the kids in their skates and shit. You’re-You’re really good with them, and, uh…” The fuck is that Munson? The fuck are you doing? Eddie’s mind raced, furiously. 

“Thanks.” You grinned, a wicked little smile that had Eddie’s cheeks flushing. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Felt like he was back in middle school, swooning any time Connie Donohue would swish her hair over her shoulder, letting it land on his desk and brush his hand. 

“They’re a fun age. Super sweet. Not like the asshole eight year olds.” Your finger curled under the untied laces, shimmying them loose. 

“Oh? Eight year olds, they're the asshole group?” Eddie grinned, leaning against the rink’s surface. He hoped you couldn’t tell how he was flexing, muscles protruding under the tight, black material of his shirt. 

“Total assholes. I had them last year, and that’s why I switched-” 

“-Excuse me?” A tiny squeak of a voice came from behind you. You turned, expecting one of your kids who had forgotten a mitten or jacket. 

“Are-Are you Eddie Munson?” The small boy with wide eyes gaped at Eddie. 

Eddie flushed, swallowing, eyes flickering to you. Your brows creasing, looking at the tiny boy then back at Eddie. “Yeah, yeah that’s me.” Eddie forced a smile, gripping the rink as he stepped onto the bleachers, settling on the ones across from you. 

“What’s your name, little man?” Eddie grinned. 

“Samuel.” The boy grinned, a little shyly. 

“Samuel, that’s a cool name. How old are you?” 

“Eight.” The boy beamed. 

Eddie’s eyes cut over to yours, lips twisting, fighting back a grin. You blushed, turning away from his glances, cheeks burning with heat you hoped he didn’t see. “Eight? That’s a… that’s a cool age, right?” 

“Right.” Samuel nodded. “I-I watch you all the time with my dad and my mom.” Samuel babbled in true kid fashion. “You’re my favorite hockey player.” 

“Me? No way, c’mon.” Eddie shook his head playfully. 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re from Hawkins too.” Samuel nodded, matter of factly. “They said that on-on the TV one time when I was watching.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Eddie nodded. “Used to practice here when I was your age.” He nodded over towards the rink behind him. 

“We went one time to a game, and… and you lost a tooth!” Samuel giggled in true, eight year old asshole form. “The other guy knocked it out when-when you were fighting!” 

Eddie laughed, a howling of a cackle that bounced off the walls of the rink, over the hum of the electricity and heat in the stands.

You watched carefully, interest piqued. You knew he was good, you’d watched him practice, it was obvious he had skill. And the name did sound familiar, plastered across headlines and the local news, one of Hawkins’ very own made it big. 

Eddie signed Samuel’s jersey, left him scampering back to his awaiting parents with a triumphant grin. “What are the odds of that?” Eddie beamed, grinning ear to ear when he looked over at you. 

You laughed, knotting your own skates together, reaching for your snow boots. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you-you played for the… Played hockey.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged, inked hand running down his arm. You tried not to stare. “It’s alright, really. Not bad benefits, but work hours are a little crazy.” 

“Yeah?” You laughed lightly. “I would say so. Pretty demanding.” 

“Oh yeah. And you lose a tooth or two sometimes.” Eddie’s eyes cut to yours playfully, a dimpled grin that had your heart shooting with heat. 

“Yikes.” You sucked in a breath dramatically. “That seems brutal.” 

“You ever been?” Eddie asked, untying his own skates, letting the blade rest on the cement barrier in front of him. 

“To… what? A game?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “Not, like, a real hockey game. Not… Not one of yours.” Your knee bounced nervously, a little unsure even in your own answer. 

“You should come.” Eddie shrugged cooly, hoping you couldn’t see the way his hands shook with adrenaline. “Come to the opener in a few weeks. I’ll get you tickets.” 

“What?” You laughed lightly. “You- No, you don’t even know my name, and you’re gonna get me tickets? Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Well, I was hoping I could get your name, maybe your number too.” Eddie’s lips pursed lightly. “Get to know you before the game. Can give you those tickets next time I see you. What do you think? You free Friday night? Saturday?” 

You blushed, looking down at your boots, fiddling with the laces to avoid his gaze. “Saturday. I don’t have to work.” You looked back at him. 

“Saturday it is.” Eddie beamed. 

You scrawled your name and number on the torn corner piece of the schedule. Eddie had snatched it and a pen from behind the desk, ignoring Max’s huffs of annoyance. He’d clutched it the whole way home, paper a little soft from the dampness of his sweaty hands. The tiny slip of paper was taped to his landline, staying there long after Eddie had memorized the number. In your pretty, loopy handwriting for Eddie to see each time he called you. 

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #munnysonederful #hockey!eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #hockey!eddie #hockey!eddie munson x reader #hockey player!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson #max mayfield #eddie munson fic #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie munson blurb

[emilyprentissslutsstuff]

Home Run- Emily Prentiss x Fem!BAU!Reader fanfic

Warnings: smut, mentions of mommy kink and alcohol, (legal) age gap

Background:

You had been with the BAU for two years and had been immensely attracted to your boss and BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss since the day you joined. At times it definitely distracted you, but for the most part you were able to push your crush aside when it came to your job. You had joined the FBI softball team with Derek (who was your best friend on the team), and the rest of the team came out to watch the two of you play. (Emily is chief but for the sake of story Derek is still on the team :).)

first fanfic in a while so hope it’s decent

also i dont play softball so forgive the inaccuracies

“You ready, track star? You’re up to bat after this inning,” He asked you tauntingly, a grin on his face.

You laughed, “Shut up, Morgan. You should’ve stuck to football, do me a favor and have a beer ready for me after I hit a hit home run.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

Soon enough, there you stood on the plate. You had been playing ball since you were old enough to join a team, it had become like second nature to you. The batting cages were how you usually let off steam after a tough case.

You took a deep breath as you brought the bat up, steadying your stance as you and the pitcher stared at each other. Most of the other team was guys, and you could tell they didn’t expect much from you. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you waited for the pitch.

It happened within an instant, the ball came flying towards you and without even having to think you cracked your bat against it. There was a soaring sound as it flew over the field and out of bounds.

You tore the helmet off your head as claps and cheers erupted from the crowd. You look at Derek, a shit-eating grin on your face as you simply shrugged and began your jog around the bases. He shook his head, laughing at you as he prepared to grab you a beer.

From the crowd, your team cheered the whole time you ran. Penelope was the loudest, of course, as she had brought plenty of noisemakers and kazoos. You nodded an acknowledgment at them as you were going past the stands, looking mostly at Emily, who gave you a small wave.

You were slightly stunned to see her wearing a t-shirt with your number on it. Granted, Penelope and JJ also had your number while Spencer and Rossi sported Derek’s. It still made your cheeks heat up a little.

You got back to box, Derek greeting you with a fist bump and a grin as he handed you a beer. “Thanks, asshole,” you said.

“Hey now, I won’t doubt you again,” he joked as you both took your seats. You couldn’t help but look back at Emily to see her staring at you as well. You blushed a little again and turned back around quickly before Derek could see you. He would never let you hear the end of it if he knew you had a crush on your boss.

You had hid it pretty well from everyone, after all they were profilers so you knew you had to really push your feelings down if you didn’t want them finding out. You knew you could never act on any of those feelings, but you reasoned that everyone had fantasies that would never happen. Perhaps you hadn’t hid it so well from her though?

You sipped on your beer but you could feel her eyes on you still. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, her eyes watching you.

It didn’t take long for your team to strike out, and you were back on the outfield and you couldn’t help but see her watching you. You could’ve sworn you saw her wink. You looked around you and then met her eyes again, obvious confusion on your face. She hid her laugh, standing up and walking off to what you could only presume was the bathroom or something.

You were so distracted you missed the ball that landed practically right next to you, Derek running up beside you and picking it up. “What the hell, Y/L/N? I shouldn’t have given your ass that beer, lightweight,” he laughed at you as he ran off with the ball.

Before you knew it the game was over, you had hit two more home runs both times you were up to bat, something you were definitely hanging over Derek’s head. The sun was starting to set as both teams filed out of the field and met up with their respected loved ones.

The team was chattering various congratulations on winning and you all agreed to go to a nearby restaurant to eat. You noticed Emily was staring at you, like blatantly staring at you as if she wanted you to notice.

You were about to ask Derek for a ride to the restaurant when Emily suddenly asked you, “Need a ride?”

You were a little stunned but didn’t let it show, “Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind? I was gonna ask Morgan but—”

“I don’t mind,” she interrupted you, her gorgeous smile erupting on her features. The team went their separate ways and you followed Emily to her car.

After you were inside Emily spoke first, “How long have you been playing?” she asked as you reached for the seatbelt.

“Ah, since I was young, 7 or 8 probably,” you replied nonchalantly, keeping your eyes forward as she started the car up.

“That’s impressive, you play well. I’ll have to come to more of these softball games,” she says, a smile etching her mouth as she spoke. You felt your stomach flutter slightly.

“Thanks, chief. Appreciate it,” you kept your sentences short for fear you would stumble over your words. She could sense you were nervous.

“You never call me Emily,” she noted, glancing at you momentarily.

“Ma’am?” you replied, a little confused.

“Just something I’ve noticed. You always call me Prentiss, or chief, or boss, but never Emily.”

“I guess… I’ve just always seen you as my boss. Everyone else worked with you before you were Unit Chief, but you were chief when I joined so I guess it’s hard for me to separate you from that,” you lied, knowing you couldn’t call her Emily because of the sound of her name on your tongue only made the butterflies in your stomach worse.

“I see,” she hummed. “So it has nothing to do with your little crush?” She looked over at you again.

It was hard to control your facial expression, your eyes widening just slightly before you answered, clearing your throat as you did, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

You looked over at her, and couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on the way her jeans hugged her thighs, the smile that tugged the corners of her mouth and sparkled in her eyes.

“You know I can see you, you’re going to deny it while actively checking me out?” she teased you. You stammered, unable to find your words. You knew you had been caught.

“It’s cute, really. At first I thought you just had authority issues and you were intimidated by me so you avoided me, but I figured out pretty quickly that wasn’t the case,” her hand reached over to squeeze your thigh. Your eyes focused on her fingers wrapped around your leg, trying to ignore the feelings and thoughts it was arousing. You closed them quickly.

“It’s flattering,” she continued, her voice getting lower, “and I won’t lie I’ve thought about it more than once. But something about seeing you today, out there rolling around in the dirt, kicking all those guys asses every time you went up to bat—” You had to stop her, opening your eyes which made you realize that she had parked.

“Chief, this is— it’s very inappropriate and uh,” you stammered but she just laughed, leaning into you so close you could smell her perfume.

“What’s inappropriate is having feelings for your boss, who is almost 2 decades older than you,” her eyes were narrow, studying you. You couldn’t control your expression at this point and you could only imagine the horror that manifested on your face. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, which she definitely took note of.

“Relax, Y/N,” she cooed at you, giving your thigh another reassuring squeeze.

“So what, you’ve known the whole time?” you ask, unable to meet her eyes.

“Well I didn’t know for sure, it was more intuition,” she smiled. You glanced down, admiring her full lips. “But it didn’t affect your work, and you never acted on it so I just let it be. Is that what you’d like me to do?”

“No,” you hadn’t been so quick to speak since you had gotten in her car. “No, that’s not what I want.” You looked at her eyes finally, they were still narrow but darker than before.

“So what do you want?” she husks, biting her lip which was something that drove you crazy. You instinctually averted your gaze because you had gotten so used to doing so at work whenever she would do that to prevent any feelings arising.

“Nuh uh, don’t look away now,” she said, hooking a finger under your chin to pull your face to meet hers again.

“You, Emily. I want you,” your heartbeat was thumping in your ears loudly, your stomach felt like it was trying to expel itself, and there was a similar throbbing you were beginning to feel in your pants.

“Get in the back. Lay down,” she commanded you. Your limbs seemed to move themselves as you climbed into the backseat, lying flat at your back with your feet planted firmly on the seat. You heard a slight shuffle from the front of the car but you couldn’t focus on anything but trying to calm your nerves. You wondered if this was truly happening or if you were just having some sort of in depth dream.

Suddenly Emily appeared above you, straddling your hips sans pants, as she pressed a few sensual kisses to your lips. A soft moan escaped your parted lips, your hands gripped her hips firmly following her movement as she rolled them, grinding into your midriff.

She pryed her lips from yours, her hand turning your head by grabbing your jaw to whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna sit on your face and ride it till you make me cum. Is that okay with you, sweet girl?” You whimpered at her words, nodding.

“I need verbal consent,” she said, her tongue swiping along your jawline.

“Emily, please,” you begged her. “Please ride my face.” Her hips shifted, leaving a small slick spot on your exposed abdomen before she was hovering above your mouth. You wasted no time, wrapping your arms around the back of her legs and pulling her into your mouth.

You moaned into her cunt as your tongue made contact with it, tasting her for the first time. One of her hands gripped the armrest on the door, the other resting affectionately in your hair.

She gasped softly as your tongue explored her wetness, becoming more confident as her moans encouraged you. You gripped the flesh of her thighs and ass, drawing another groan from her while her hips began to roll lazily in a slow rhythm.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good,” her head was tilted back, back arched ever so slightly as her hips began to move with more purpose. You were taking mental snapshots of every noise and movement she made, studying which strokes of your tongue elicited more reaction.

Your fingers tugged gently on the hem of her shirt as you mumbled, “Off? Please.” A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she groaned from the vibration of your voice. Her eyes met yours and you stared up at her innocently, pushing your tongue further into her wetness.

“You’ve been such a good girl, you want to see more of mommy?” she smirked above you, knowing the effect her words had on you as you squirmed underneath her. Her voice was low, almost sinister, as she spoke.

“Emily, please,” you groaned, your mind clouded by arousal. She pulled the shirt over her head, and you couldn’t help but notice your last name lettered across the back. It only turned you on more.

Your eyes dragged over Emily’s toned body, her full breasts swaying as she ground her sex into your mouth. You ran your fingers up her torso, admiring her figure as you zeroed in on her clit with your tongue.

Her fingers tangled in her hair as her moans increased in pace and volume. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she groaned, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. You felt her thighs contracting against the side of your face, gripping you slightly.

She pulled her cunt from your lips rather quickly, snaking her body down yours and straddling your hips again. You sat up, extending your legs as she pulled you in for a deep kiss. As she pulled away, she swiped her finger along your chin collecting her juices and gently pushed it between your lips.

“Suck,” she demanded, her tone firm and authoritative while her eyes followed yours. You closed your lips around her finger, eyes fluttering closed as you tasted her again. You swirled your tongue lightly across the digit, giving Emily a show as you slowly released it from your mouth.

You opened your eyes to find Emily’s gorgeous smile, her eyes admiring you affectionately. She kissed you softly once more, her hands cupping your face while her thumb gently stroked your cheek. “Good girl. Jump back up front and pass me my clothes. After dinner, I’ll take you back to my place and take care of you, sound okay?” She said, brushing her fingers through your hair.

“Yeah,” you whispered softly, entranced by the way she seemed to look at you. You did as she had asked you and after a few moments she had joined you in the front seat again. You sat quietly, your face red with embarrassment.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she said, turning your head to face her. Her hand dropped down, squeezing you thigh in reassurance. “What’s on your mind?”

You cleared your throat, “Um, how did you know that— um.” Your words seemed to fail you as you stammered, trying to find the least embarrassing way to address what you were wondering.

She grinned, she really seemed to enjoy making you squirm. “What? Mommy?” She raised her eyebrow at you knowingly, as if she didn’t even have to ask.

Your breath caught in your throat as you quickly said, “Yeah— uh, yeah, that.” You shook your head as if trying to remove the word from your thoughts.

“Doesn’t take a profiler to realize you have mommy issues, pretty girl. Plus you had to excuse yourself from that interview I did that one time, so that told me everything I needed—” She said playfully, never taking her hand off your thigh.

You nodded in embarrassment, laughing slightly as you interrupted her, “Okay, I get it.” You rested your hand on top of hers.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she smiled at you, leaning into your ear. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel so good later.” You whimpered softly, biting your lip to muffle the sound that escaped your lips.

“Now, we’ll tell the team we went to the wrong restaurant when we get there. Give me a kiss.” You pressed a soft, short kiss to her lips as you felt her signature smile tugging her lips again. “Such a good girl,” she whispered.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut

[neteyamsyawntu]

Kinkmas Day 03

Lingerie/Stockings

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, slight corruption, oral fem receiving, friends to lovers trope, slow burn, size difference, interspecies relationship

Although it didn’t get cold in the jungles of Pandora, a sudden sort of mystical whimsy had struck you this year. It was early December and you had felt the urge to create a comfy cozy environment that reflected that of the impending holidays. 

Seeing how you weren’t allowed to bring decorations back from Earth with you, you prompted on making some in between filing reports and paperwork in the lab. Your mind raced with ways of how you could arrange your new decorations in your room, and once your shift had ended you wasted almost no time rushing to your sleeping quarters with all of your materials.

It wasn’t much, a couple paper snowflakes attached to string to hang up on your ceiling. Of course your colleagues in the lab took notice to your festivities and had no problem lending some of the decorations they had been provided with a long time ago by the RDA before the war and long before you had even arrived at Pandora. Something to bring up the spirits of those away from home. Your eyes sparked over all the small trinkets, frosted covered trees in different sizes, stockings, and even some string lights.

Your heart soared with excitement as you hastily began to brainstorm ideas, gazing around your room and making a mental map of where you wanted everything. Your idea was almost perfect, yet you wanted to set the mood a bit more, just to make things a tad more cozy. From your closet, you fetched a dusty-pink oversized wool sweater and a pair of white thigh high, woven stockings, quickly discarding your own clothes and throwing on this set that you deemed the coziest clothing you had. Quickly you began getting to work, placing different trinkets along your personal desk, your night stand, and even a small bookshelf in the corner of your room. 

As your eyes drifted back to the box you surveyed the remaining items, the string lights and some of the snowflakes you had made yourself. Of course you could’ve just requested a ladder, but what  fun would that be? Or maybe you had just been wanting to see him since he hadn't been visiting the lab recently and neither you, the forest. Skipping to your desk you grasp hold of the communications choker you had discarded for the night, placing the ear piece on and bringing the mic to your lips, “Pathfinder, do you copy?” You ask trying to hide your excitment at the idea of requesting your Na’vi friend to come and help you. Almost immediately a buzz comes from the other end of the comms piece to reveal the heavy accent of Neteyam’s voice “I read you, Tiger-Lily. Is everything alright?” You almost giggle at his serious tone, knowing that Neteyam had no idea what he was getting himself into, “Need you at the lab for a favor, how quickly can you get here?”. A silence rang over the comms for a moment, seemingly making any arrangements he needed to before the hasty buzz returned, “I will be there shortly, hold tight.”.

While you waited for Neteyam to show up, you took survey of your progress so far, a wide smile on your face as memories of spending Christmases as a child with your family. It created an odd sense of melancholy that seemed to flurry in your heart, but part of you expected it and somewhat welcomed the feeling as well. Retreating back into the box of decor, you notice a few things. One a small bag of familiar candies and a large three wicked, scented candle, which you waste no time in taking it out, lighting it on your desk, quickly filling the room with the smell of cinnamon, to which you being crafting a couple more snowflakes to hang up around your room. 

“It smells… nice in here.”  The sudden voice pulls you out of your thoughts, as Neteyam opens your door, crouching in the doorway, his eyes peering around your room to observe the red and green color scheme before falling on your form. “Tey! Thanks for getting here so quickly, I know it’s a bit late.” You say with a bright smile, hastily taping a piece of string to the backside of the paper snowflake and putting aside your materials to go and greet him. His head cocks to the side as his eyes wander a bit too curiously along your body. “Those clothes… I don’t know if I have ever seen them on you before.” Neteyam states, his eyes still wandering you curiously. This outfit was definitely much different than what Neteyam was used to seeing you in. The oversized form of the sweater seemed to hide your body, yet with it stopping just below your bum, was just on the cusp of  revealing more than he had seen of you. The long socks hugged your legs so comfortably, they looked so soft, only leaving a bit of revealed skin of your thigh between its hem and that of the sweater. You just looked so small. So cute. 

You can help, but blink confused for a moment before following his gaze to survey your own clothing choices, “Oh right, well I don’t usually have occasion to wear it since it’s always so hot, but I figured tonight was fitting for it.”, “…And what is tonight?” Neteyam asks, finally pulling his gaze from you to glance around the room once more. “Just putting up a few Christmas decorations. These white walls are giving me a headache, so I figure now was a better time than any to spruce things up a bit.”. Neteyam nodded to himself slowly, as he silently agreed with your statement. His father had told him and his siblings of the Earthly holiday back when they were kids, but they all kind of found the idea ridiculous; sharing gifts wasn’t all that strange amongst na’vi culture, yet to be comfortable with the idea of a strange man in red sneaking into your home just to place surprise ones, gave Neteyam a sense of unease.

“I was kind of hoping you’d be okay with helping me put up a few… higher decorations?” You add, putting your palms together in a sort of pleading gesture, a tad of a guilty smile on your lips that you tried to hide by biting on your lower one. Neteyam couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left him, seeing what exactly you had been planning for his visit. “Ha… I don’t think that should be a problem.” Neteyam agrees, following along as you guide him to the string lights that had been packed neatly in the box, giving him brief instructions of how you wanted them placed at the highest point of your wall, and guiding them around the room. 

In the meantime you busied yourself with hanging up some of the snowflakes you had made, taping them against the wall, unaware of Neteyam’s wandering eyes toward you as he continued his task, stealing glances and watching as your stockings started to slip down your leg, slowly revealing more of your skin. Taking a step back from the wall you were working on, your eyes bounce around the arrangement of your snowflakes and pondering what to do with the one in your hand, until an open spot higher on the wall caught your attention. Perfect, albeit a little too high… for you. With a brief look over your shoulder you spot Neteyam working silently to put up the lights, his arms outstretched effortlessly as he used his own roll of tape to secure the lights to the wall. “Hey, Teyam do you think you could help me put this up? It’s a little too high for me to reach”, Your voice immediately captures his attention with a flick of his ear, glancing over in your direction, his eyes dancing between the paper decoration in your hand and the arrangement you had put together on the wall until ultimately landing on your form. You were pushed up onto your tiptoes, arm stretched out against the wall as you held the decoration just below where you wanted it, his eyes falling to how your sweater now pushed up to reveal the underside of your rear, a laced pair of panties peeking out from under it nearly had Neteyam choking on his saliva.

Neteyam’s tail flicked behind him as he had noticed he had been staring for a bit too long. Without much of a second thought, his mind to focused on the view you were presenting him with, Neteyam makes his way behind you, bending down to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your back flush against his chest as he boosts you up to the place you were trying to reach, earning a much surprised yelp from you. “O-oh uh… thanks. Although this isn’t really what I meant- anyways..” you flusteredly stumble over your words before bringing your attention back to the task at hand, securing the paper snowflake in its spot, “There uhm.. you can put me down now, Nete.”. Neteyam cleared his throat with a soft apology having found himself distracted again, having allowed his fingers to gently caress the woolen texture of your sweater.

Heat rushes to your face as you can feel your sweater rolling up over your bum as Neteyam gently guides you down to your feet, feeling the embroidery of his cummerbund against your ass, the rough stitching catching your sweater, unintentionally pulling it up over your rear, revealing the black laced panties you were wearing underneath your clothing further as your descended lower, gliding over his bare abs. You could almost swear for a moment that Neteyam had shivered slightly at the contact, which only strengthened your flustered state. Once finding your footing you nearly stumble out of his arms, quickly fixing your sweater. “S-sorry um… I didn’t see anything.” He lied, averting his gaze to look between his feet, unsuccessfully hiding his blush in the process, “It’s okay… it was an accident, no hard feelings… woah..”.

Your eyes then drift around the room, consuming each detail of the decorations that littered your bedroom, the lights finally strung up, making all the difference, “It looks incredible in here… Oh! I have something for you!”. Neteyam tilts his head, sitting down on your bed, watching curiously as you shuffle back to the box that held all of the decorations. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand!”. A soft chuckle leaves his lips at your request, yet he complies anyway. His ears flick when a foreign texture is placed into his palm; the object is light in weight, seemingly fragile. His eyes open peering down at a small red and white hooked shaped item in his hand. “T-thank you… what is it?”, “It’s called a candy cane, it’s a treat!”. Neteyam’s eyes wander from yours then to the candy in each of your hands, your own gaze picking up the confusion in his. “You just stick it in your mouth like this and suck on it.” You explain casually, sitting on the bed beside him as you stick the stem of the candy into your mouth, lightly sucking on it in the process. 

You were just so innocent and it always seemed like around this time of year you became overly cheerful. Something about it made something in the pit of his stomach stir as he watched you suck delightedly in the treat. Neteyam cautiously follows suit, careful not to break the candy as he sticks it in his mouth. The minute the flavor hits his tongue, his brows furrow, removing the candy cane from his mouth, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to identify the taste. “It is spicy… yet sweet?”, “It’s called mint. It makes your breath smell good, so it’s an added bonus.” You can’t help, but softly giggle as he tries a second attempt at tasting candy. He couldn’t deny although it had an odd sensation on his tongue, that the candy did taste good, the sweetness seeming to overpower whatever that ‘mint’ thing was, yet when his eyes fell on you again enjoying the candy yourself; your small finger hooked around the curved bit to keep it steady as your lips wrapped securely around the stem, created a strange fuzzy feeling I Neteyam’s brain and a slight stiffening in his loincloth. 

“I think there may be something wrong with mine… could I um… could I taste yours?” The request was everything against his better judgment, yet when you looked up at him with slight concern and those doe eyes, immediately it made him swoon. “I uh… s-sure. I mean I don’t know how yours could taste ba-.” A gasp breaks through your mindless rambling as Neteyam inches closer to you on the bed, his eyes hooded, lips slightly parted, creeping steadily closer until you two are practically sharing the same breath. Neteyam was playing a dangerous game and he knew it. His natural good boy instincts screamed at him to pull himself together, to retreat back into his bubble and apologize for the stupid request, but he didn’t want to. His gaze was zeroed-in on your lips, feeling the saliva building in his cheeks as just the thought of tasting the mint on your tongue made him salivate.

“N-Neteyam?”, “You said I could have a taste… right? I thought maybe… you wouldn’t mind if I tasted it like this?” His voice is hushed, almost a whisper, his eyes only flicking once from your lips to your eyes, but only for a moment. It was as if an intense hunger had taken over him, something the na’vi hunter couldn’t quite explain, but the way he leaned over your small form, shadowing over you, you couldn’t help, but feel like prey. Your heart rapped against your chest, your mind feeling fuzzy as he moved to close the space between you two. You were speechless, dumbfounded by his boldness, which he seemed to catch onto, “Stick out your tongue for me, yawne… I promise I’ll be gentle.” he purrs, his voice smooth in a almost silent whisper, as if not to spook you.

It hadn’t even dawned on you that you had obeyed his wishes until you felt the hot embrace of his significantly larger tongue envelope your own. The breath that you had been unconsciously holding in now exhaled into his mouth with a heavy sigh. His ears flick in silent acknowledgment, feeling your body relax against him. Submitting to him. A sort of awareness seems to wash over Neteyam as his three fingered hand snakes around your back, pulling you closer to him, his hand fisting your soft sweater securely in his grasp. An awareness that you were giving yourself to him, an awareness that even if you hadn’t, he would have the utilities necessary to take you for himself, even if he would never actually act on it. 

So lost in the high of the moment, the sudden loss of the dance created by your tongues leaves you chasing after him, causing Neteyam to chuckle at your eagerness, “Just a taste, remember?” He coos, kneading gently at the material of your sweater in his grasp. Your heart was racing, face captured in an overwhelming heat, yet even still, you couldn’t help, but crave more, “Do- do you want another taste? Maybe?” You ask breathlessly before you can even process the words leaving your lips, eyes wide with anticipation. A fang tugs at his bottom lip as he bites it discreetly, moving in again as if your small body called to him.

When your tongues connected for a second time you are taken by surprise when he brings your smaller tongue into his mouth, sucking on it as if it were to minty treat itself. Your eyes rolled slightly as they fluttered shut, yours arms moving to wrap around his neck as his own, pulled you closer, pressing his chest against yours as he anchored you completely down onto the bed. Everything seemed to move quicker as each of your movements became more heated, the arch in your back pressing your chest against his more firmly, his long arms practically cradling you as his hands beneath your sweater giving your skin gentle caresses, his thumbs just barely tracing under the swell of your breast “So soft…” he murmured against your lips before eagerly claiming them again. 

It was almost as if he was teasing you yet giving you everything you wanted at the same time; his lips were heated and passionate, while his hands worked gently against your skin as if you were some kind of antique. His eyes nearly pop open when you roughly grasp his hand, finally pressing it fully against your breast, “Please Teyam… touch me.” You plead oh so innocently. A low rumbling, purr-like noise emerges from Neteyam’s throat as he attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling tentatively while his hand cups your breast firmly, kneading it in his grasp, coaxing small moans from you.

Leaving a hand on your breast the other drifts to push your sweater up to your waist, his fingers delicately dancing along the skin of your hip, tracing over the lace detail of your panties, “And these… do you always wear things like this, tawtute? Or did you put them on just for me?” Neteyam purrs into your neck. You can’t help, but sheepishly giggle; the truth was that this was yet another article of clothing you never really had the opportunity to wear. It hadn’t crossed your mind that Neteyam would notice them, let alone be aroused by them in such a way, “And… if I wore them for you?” You test, a heavy blush panting your features as your eyes watch his reaction closely. 

You can see him physically shudder as he moves both hands to your thighs, massaging them gently, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes, “Then… I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Y/N… and with your permission.. I’d like to continue.”. The sides of your lips twitch into a smile as you feel adrenaline course through your body, biting your lower lip to conceal the excitement of what was to come, slowly nodding your head in approval. The pupils of Neteyam’s eyes dilate at your gesture, his tail flicking alluringly behind him as he lowers his face down your torso, pushing your sweater up to your breasts as he lays wet yet tender kisses along your abdomen, descending lower and lower until his lips brush the lace detailing of your panties.

His focused eyes glance up at you for a moment, giving you a look that says “This is what you signed up for.” Before his fangs gently tug at the band of the fabric, not enough to tear it, but enough to make your body shiver as it lifts from your skin. His teeth release your panties with a slight slap of the fabric, his eyes brimming with lust, keeping eye contact with you as he descends even lower.

Your curious eyes watch him closely only to quickly shut them, gasping and throwing your head back as you fist the sheets of your bed at the feeling of his alien tongue sweeping over the fabric of your panties, licking your core through the thin fabric. Your body shudders at the contact, and the sight you open your eyes to makes you instinctively clench. The amber eyes predator stalking between your thighs, his shoulder blades rolling on his back as he gets into a more comfortable position between your legs. His intentions were made clear through his actions, making you more than eager to follow suit, as you lift your hips, keeping your eyes locked on his just as he had as your fingers hook around your panties, shimming them down your legs. 

You begin to pull your stockings off with them, but you are stopped by a large three fingered hand, “Leave these on… you look so cute in them.” He hums softly, maybe it’s the look on his eyes, but the request feels more like a demand, so of course you work your panties down your stockings until Neteyam pulls them off your angles, discarding them off the side of the bed. Hoisting your soft, stocking covered legs over his shoulders, Neteyam wastes no time pulling your intimates close to his face. His hungry and possessive eyes locking on you once more as he repeats his previous action with nothing to obstruct the wetness of his tongue. Your hips buck at the contact, your eyes fluttering closed as you enjoy the feeling. 

Your tip toes perched atop broad blue striped shoulders, Neteyam’s tongue emerges from between his lips as he opened his mouth to drag the soaked muscle up your slick cunt. His hot breath mixed with his wet pressure of his tongue, making you clench around nothing. Large gold eyes locked on you, observing as your facial expressions morph in ecstasy. His tongue completely devouring your petite pussy, covering you like a blanket.  You had never felt smaller than you did in that moment, the blue giant shadowing over you even in this compromising position. His hands  nearly twice the size of your head, snaked itself up to your breast, while the other encompassed your hip. A hitched gasp drew from your throat feeling as Neteyam hummed against your pussy, savoring the taste of your cum.

 “My love…” his smooth thundering voice resonated in your ears, “your taste.. it is so addicting. I want more of you”. Feeling the wet muscle shift down to your opening, you can’t help but arch your back as Neteyam inserts his thick tongue through your pussy lips, “Oh! Neteyam!” You mewl into the back of your hand, desperately fisting the pillow below your head. His tongue felt unearthly inside of you, its girth massaging your walls fervently. Each sweep and dip of his tongue only made you crave more, your stomach tightened reaching the cusp of your high, as you fucked yourself against his hungry mouth.  “My needy little tìyawn… so cute. I love that I can fill you up with just my tongue,” Neteyam breathed against your cunt pulling back slightly to look up at you, before eagerly pulling at your hips to submerge his tongue back into your cunt, basking in your pleasured noises.

Tag list: @itchaboi-itchyboy @pandoraslxna @oakbuggy @plooto @xylianasblog @etherial-moon-blog @hikari-michiko @neteyamssyulang @blue-slxt @c-townes @loaksxhoe @xstarsdiary @neteyamswillow @akoyaxs @neteyxmsgirl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @zafrinaxyz @neteyams-wh0re @neteyamyawne @kiri-tuk @beauitful-brown-skin-05 @akoyaxs @neteyamsstuff @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @ntymavtr @luvv4j4ybe11

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam fics #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x human reader

[evermoreal]

some stalker!ghost thoughts ౨ৎ ࿐

author’s note. i have never been into dark content but i got this idea in my head & ran with it >.< really, it’s not that dark, he’s just obsessive & needs to be near u at All Times. however he is a stalker so please heed the warnings !!

cw. 18+ mdni, fem reader, stalking, murder (nothing detailed & the reader doesn’t know), breaking & entering, voyeurism, masturbation. lmk if i missed anything ! <3

∘♡༉∘ he meets you while on leave. it’s not often he’s off-base, and when he is, he rarely leaves the dingy little apartment he rents.

∘♡༉∘ despite the rumours, ghost is human. a human with a terrible sweet tooth, actually. after spending too long staring at his empty pantry, willing something to appear, he decides to check out the little bakery he’d spotted on an early-morning run a few days ago.

∘♡༉∘ it was quiet inside — so quiet he had to double check that the ‘open’ sign was actually lit up. it was, and there was a faint, bubble-gum pop song playing from somewhere behind the ‘employees only’ door. after a moment of deliberation, he dings the little bell atop the counter.

∘♡༉∘ there’s a short yelp, and that sickly-sweet music is immediately paused. not a moment later, the door is swung open, and the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen is rattling off non-sensical apologies. there’s a bit of flour on your nose, some frosting on your chin.

∘♡༉∘ ghost knows he’s intimidating — enjoys it, even. not once in his life has he felt at all bad about it, not until now. the way you stutter over your words, staring up at him with wide eyes, growing frantic the more he silently stares has him regretting everything.

∘♡༉∘ now, he wishes he’d taken the time to swap out his balaclava for a surgical mask, or at least worn something other than his usual black hoodie and jeans. all he can do is shove his hands in his pockets, and say as softly as he can manage, “‘s okay, sweetheart.”

∘♡༉∘ you visibly relax, at that. shoulders slumping from where they’d begun to climb toward your ears. after that, you’re asking how you can help him, and when he asks for suggestions, you’re full of them. he ends up leaving with a box full of treats he doesn’t need, but he just couldn’t say no to anything you offered.

∘♡༉∘ only two days later and he’s returning. he doesn’t know why, but he can’t get you out of his head.

∘♡༉∘ the sight of your big, toothy smile when he walks in has his heart soaring. you’re immediately asking about the treats, if he enjoyed them or not. of course he did — he couldn’t get through all of them without a sore stomach, but the ones he did eat were the best damn baked goods he’d ever had.

∘♡༉∘ it’s easy enough to find your social media; you’re not great with privacy settings, and he spotted your name on your tag the first day he met you. instagram, snapchat, twitter, spotify, even facebook. your posts are so sweet, he finds himself smiling absentmindedly as he scrolls through them. baked goods, selfies of you and your friends, animals, the moon. he doesn’t know why he’s so satisfied when he concludes you don’t have a partner.

∘♡༉∘ there’s a photo of you at the beach alongside your friends. you’re smiling in it, the way one would for a photo — it’s not genuine, not like how you smile at him. but you look beautiful, so much so that it has something foul twisting in his stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this. the photo wasn’t particularly revealing, and you weren’t posed scandalously, but… he grinds his teeth as he goes through the comments. he’s so, so proud when he sees that you haven’t responded to the men, not even deigning to like their comments. heart eyes and shitty compliments — he files away their names, somewhere in the back of his mind. just in case.

∘♡༉∘ it becomes routine to visit you after that. every few days he came in, spending more money than anyone should at a bakery. only once did he make the mistake of coming in on your day off. it only made sense for him to wait for your coworker to use the restroom and sneak back to the break room, snapping a photo of your schedule.

∘♡༉∘ additionally, and even more strangely, he’s glad the bakery has the sweet habit of labeling who made what treats. when you suggest the ones made by your coworkers, he’ll still purchase them, just to see you smile, but they don’t go anywhere near his mouth.

∘♡༉∘ and, hey, it’s not like sticking around until the end of your shift was a terrible idea. he’d sit in his car on the other side of the street, monitoring whoever entered and exited. he just needed to make sure you were safe. a sweet thing like you, the world would chew you up and spit you out so easily — there’s no way he’s gonna let that happen.

∘♡༉∘ it’s rare he deems someone a threat, but when an older man leaves the place with a scowl, he gets a bad feeling. immediately, he’s back inside the bakery, only to find you teary-eyed and sniffly. fury takes hold in an instant, but when you spot him and whimper out his name, he’s unable to leave again, no matter how badly he needs to hunt that man down. you step into his arms and ghost knows that prick will have to wait — right now, he needs to take care of you. wiping your eyes, cooing at you until you calm down enough to explain what happened. he insists you take your break, and when you do, he treats you to the restaurant across the street you’d mentioned you’d liked.

∘♡༉∘ the prick never comes back. you don’t question why, and simon’s glad for that. he doesn’t know how accepting you’d be if ghost told you he was buried a few cities over.

∘♡༉∘ after that, ghost’s instincts kind of go haywire. in his eyes, you’re no longer safe when he’s not around, not even at home. he spends his nights parked a few houses down, watching you through the window you so often forgot to draw the blinds across.

∘♡༉∘ a few weeks later, it was clear you were going through a bad time. although simon was greatly relieved when he found out it was merely a common flu, he was furious you still had to go to work to support yourself. in just a few months, if he kept at it, you might let him support you. for now, though, the best he could manage was slipping through an unlocked window and catching up on the chores you’d fallen behind. doing the dishes, your laundry, taking out your garbage. now, when you returned home, you’d be able to relax, to get better.

∘♡༉∘ additionally, he made mental notes of things that needed fixing. the lightbulb in your upstairs hallway was flickering, there was a leaky tap in the kitchen, and a few of your doors could use new hinges. he’d get to that, too, eventually.

∘♡༉∘ (he prayed you were delirious enough in your sickness to not notice. he was mostly right — through the window, he spotted you staring at the now-clean dishes with a puzzled expression. you brushed it off, and he exhaled in relief, returning to his phone, where he was purchasing a refill of your favourite perfume).

∘♡༉∘ it was hard, though. work often called him away, and he didn’t want any of the neighbours reporting a suspicious black truck parked on the street. after much debate, he purchased some cameras, installing them in a few rooms and along the exterior of your house.

∘♡༉∘ being able to check up on his girl helped him sleep when he was away. he had to pay a few extra dollars for it, but now whenever the motion sensors went off at night, he’d get a notification sent to his phone.

∘♡༉∘ he panics when it goes off one night, a while after he’d watched you fall asleep. it woke him up out of his dead sleep, body attuned to the sound of the notification. he was on base, a ways away from you; he couldn’t unlock his phone fast enough.

∘♡༉∘ however, he merely found you, alone in your room, writhing on your bed. he was confused for a long moment — were you hurt? did he need to call someone to check up on you? however, when he clicked the little ‘unmute’ button, and a low buzzing sound cut through his speakers, he came to the realization with a groan. you were getting off.

∘♡༉∘ he knew he should close the app. he knew this was a new level of invading your privacy. he knew he was disgusting . . . but the blood in his brain had already begun it’s descent to his cock, quick enough to make him light headed and a little stupid.

∘♡༉∘ the walls in the barracks were thin. he made sure to keep the volume low as he listened to your quiet moans and breathy whimpers. pressing his face close to the screen, he watched with wide, dilated eyes, cock twitching in his briefs every time you bucked your hips against the vibrator.

∘♡༉∘ simon didn’t quite know how it happened, but somehow he’d ended up on his tummy, cock fucking into his fist while he imagined it was your pretty little cunt. he finished embarrassingly quick, growling against his pillow, waiting just long enough to hear the sounds of your climax.

∘♡༉∘ the hazy, post-climax period was cut short when he heard your voice, quiet and muffled against your palm. it was breathy with the come-down, but his heart lurched in his chest. he had to rewind the video, holding the speaker up to his ear.

∘♡༉∘ sure enough, you’d uttered his name. simon. you were thinking of him.

∘♡༉∘ despite claiming you long ago, something was cemented in simon’s chest at the sound. he couldn’t wait any longer. the moment he returned, you’d be his. no matter what he had to do.

#hehe #( 🌷 ) — writing. #( 🪻 ) — ghost. #( 🕊️ ) — call of duty. #( 🕯️ ) — dark. #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #call of duty fic #cod fic #call of duty smut #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #ghost smut

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

hi!! just read both of your wrecker works and rineicbeijcwjkdjs LOVED THEM!! wrecker’s my fav of tbb and i really feel like he needs more love😭 i'm gonna be checking out some of your other works later lol

anyways i saw that you were taking requests, so i went through your prompt list and saw two that caught my eye. they're 24. “You need to wake up because I can't do this without you.” and 18. “I almost lost you.”

i was wondering if you could write something with those prompts for wrecker please? like tbb + reader were able to rescue omega, crosshair, and tech (i am believer in tech surviving season 2 finale), but the reader got seriously injured during the rescue and is now in a coma. wrecker would be the one to say the prompts and it would be angsty like wrecker thinking the reader might die. but please let this end happily.

other than those details i trust your writing skills and process for anything! take your time writing, there's absolutely no rush!! and again your writing is soooo awesome!!😊😊

Well hello there!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those fics, and thank you for popping this request in - so sorry it's taken me so long to write it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it hits the spot 😁

I guess it's also technically canon divergent now S3 is out, haha 😅

Through the Darkness

No one said rescuing the rest of the Batch from Mount Tantiss would be easy - you just didn't expect it to go like this.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader in a coma for a bit, little bit of angst, but also dashes of hope, happily ever after.

Translations: sarad - flower

Hemlock has his hands on you, his blaster pressed to your temple. The sounds of fighting cease. Dead TK Troopers litter the floor. Wrecker and his siblings freeze, slowly lowering their weapons.

Your back is pressed to Hemlock’s chest, and there isn’t a clean shot at him.

“Anyone moves and your dear liaison will pay the price,” Hemlock states.

Rage flows through Wrecker. You were in danger, too far for him to grab and shield, and he had no idea what to do. He glances at his siblings – Omega curled against Hunter’s side with weariness painted on her face, Tech leaning heavily against Echo for support as his body protests the prolonged time standing. Crosshair had peeled off from the group earlier, searching for what or who none of them was sure. They were all back together again. A family again. He wasn’t about to let Hemlock take you from them.

Shakes start in your thighs, slowly creeping up your body until your arms and hands tremble, too. You’ve been in dangerous situations before, had your life threatened before - but you’re certain Hemlock would do it. The man is crazy and will stop at nothing to get his hands on your family. The sound of his verbal back and forth with Hunter is like white noise.

The slightest movement in the rafters above catches your attention, and your eyes dart up. Battered and bruised, Crosshair has found a vantage point and a rifle. Those hawkish eyes meet yours, and a silent conversation is shared. You do the maths. There’s only one way out of this. Thank the Maker you still trust him, even after everything.

You give an almost imperceivable nod, knowing he’ll catch it. You flick your gaze to the others, taking one last look, just in case. Echo, who’d joined you all near the end of the war and had so seamlessly slipped into the fold of your family. Tech, worse for wear after his fall on Eriadu, but with that same solid determination in his eyes. Hunter, the man who’d welcomed you into the squad all those years ago, listened when you shared your thoughts and didn’t make a fuss when you broke terrible news to them about the next mission. Omega, trying to hide her fear through bravery – so much for a young girl with such a pure heart to endure. And Wrecker, the imposing force of a man who’d always put himself between you and danger, who reached for you at every opportunity and consoled you when things had gotten too much – the man you’d quietly loved for some time.

With a shaky breath, you close your eyes, placing all your faith in Crosshair. The quiet sniper who’d at first sneered at you and flicked toothpicks in your face before he’d thawed out and helped perfect your aim, taught you how to use his rifle, and what to look out for when scouting.

The sound of his shot reverberates around the hanger, and milliseconds later, searing pain tears through your shoulder, pulling a piercing cry from your lips. Legs giving out, you crumple, welcoming the cold durasteel you hit.

You don’t know if they all made it out, but you pray they did.

Wrecker hasn’t moved in weeks, refusing to leave you alone. The memory of you being shot won’t leave him; the sound of your agony is stuck on repeat. You’d been in bacta for what felt like forever, the shiny skin on your shoulder a testament to its healing power, but it wasn’t enough to wake you from the coma you’d slipped into. Pabu’s only Doctor had insisted on removing you from the tank once your physical wounds had healed, transferring you to a standard medical bed.

Crosshair’s shot had torn through your shoulder, but the angle had been perfect. Wrecker hadn’t expected any less from his little brother. The bolt had exited you and entered Hemlock, hitting him straight in the chest. A kill shot. That hadn’t killed you. Or so Wrecker hoped. Even if you woke, your shoulder would likely ache for the rest of your life, and your arm would not be as strong as before.

The sound of the door opening pulls Wrecker’s gaze from your prone form and across the small room in Pabu’s clinic. Crosshair slides through the crack in the door, thin lips pressed together, brow pinched. He visits often, guilt in his eyes every time he looks you over. You might’ve okayed the shot, but it still tore at the sniper’s soul to have hurt you.

“Nothing?” Crosshair rasps, sticking close to the door as he glances between you and his brother. He’d never admit it, but fear was starting to settle in his gut. If you didn’t wake…

“Nothin’.” Wrecker confirms, shoulders slumped. “Been talkin’ to her. Doc said she might be able to hear us. Not that it’s doin’ much good.” He sighs, gaze shifting back to you. “Told her we all got out okay. That you and Tech and the kid are alright. Don’t want her worryin’.”  

Crosshair makes a slight noise, acknowledging his brother’s words as his gaze lingers on your prone form.

“You stayin’ a bit?” Wrecker asks, using one foot to push out the spare chair at his side – the rest of their siblings often visited, too.

Hesitating, Crosshair lets out a small sigh as he moves across the room, lowering himself silently into the chair. He hadn’t stayed before, preferring to flit in for any news before disappearing. It hurt too much to see you this way, knowing he’d caused it. That and he was still working through everything that had happened during his time with the Empire, trying to fix his relationships with his siblings. But Wrecker needed him, so he’d stay.

You’d always hated the dark.

The shadows surround you, pressing in from all sides. Yet amidst the inky darkness, you find yourself standing in a solitary spot of light, its glow offering a semblance of warmth amidst the chill of the void. The lights kept appearing, and you’d learned quickly that when a new one glistened on the horizon, you had to run for it before the light you were already standing in disappeared. 

You’d lost track of how many lights you’d chased so far. 

Each one varied in intensity – sometimes brilliant beacons, other times mere flickers barely piercing the gloom. Yet, regardless of their brightness, they all held a magnetic pull, drawing you forward with an unyielding force. And each time you reached one, a brief respite washed over you, a fleeting moment before the next journey into the unknown began.

Scanning the horizon, you spot another light starting to beckon, its faint glow a promise of safety. With a heavy heart, you know what you need to do.

Taking a deep breath, you burst into a sprint. Each step forward is a battle against the darkness, its tendrils reaching out like icy fingers, eager to drag you into its embrace. Goosebumps prickle your arms, heart pounding as fear gnaws at your insides, but a stubborn determination fuels your movements. You can’t afford to falter, to succumb to the darkness, not after everything.

Worry lingers at the edge of your consciousness, a constant reminder of uncertainty. What lay beyond the lights? Will you ever find your way back to the world you once knew? The questions taunt you, echoing in your mind relentlessly the longer you spend here.

Yet, a glimmer of hope remains amidst the fear and uncertainty. Though the darkness threatens to overwhelm you, there must be a reason for the light. There has to be something causing it. Blessing you with it. Giving you these small moments of respite and keeping you in one piece. 

You keep going. One foot in front of the other.

A shove yanks Wrecker out of sleep, and the big man jolts awake with a small yelp.

Crosshair snickers, leaning back in his seat, drawing his hand back towards his chest. “Sleeping on the job, vod.” He can’t help but jibe, his smirk melting into a frown at the sound of Wrecker’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you ate?” He asks. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, seeing him finally getting some rest, but the sun was high in the sky now, and Crosshair knew it wouldn’t be long until Omega and Hunter swung by.

Blinking, Wrecker’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the fact he’s awake. “Urm, yesterday? Maybe?” He guesses, not really sure. The days were starting to blend together.

With a huff, Crosshair stands, long legs unfolding. “Will get you something. Can’t wither away before she wakes.” He mutters, grateful for the opportunity to leave and not have to sit any longer in silence with his feelings – he’d done enough of that for the day.

With a slight nod of appreciation, Wrecker watches as Crosshair heads out the door, hearing the gentle click of it shutting behind him. Hand wiping over his face, Wrecker shifts in the chair, stretching a little. But he can’t avoid the inevitable forever, and although it pains him, he looks you over for what feels like the millionth time. 

Despite his imposing stature, he feels powerless.

He hadn’t been able to protect you - the woman he loves. He’s loved you since the moment he first met you in the hanger of a Venator, as you’d been assigned to him and his brothers as their liaison. You’d offered them a smile that had rendered him speechless, and his booming laughter had then filled the hanger when you’d quipped back at Crosshair as he'd sneered about them not needing a babysitter.

You kept them on their toes and blended in so seamlessly with their chaotic lives.

Without an audience, Wrecker clears his throat, leaning forward in his seat to gently take your tiny hand in his much larger one. “I hope ya can hear me, sarad.” He starts, voice mellow. “Been a few weeks now since we got ’em back.” He’s not sure how much you’re aware of, if the passing of time is something you’re experiencing. “Cross was just here. Finally sat for a bit. Think he feels guilty.” Wrecker pauses, brows furrowing, face pinching. “I feel guilty. Should have protected ya, kept ya close.” Wrecker’s voice cracks a little, emotion seeping through. 

“We’re all here, though. Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what. Can’t wait for ya to wake up and tell us all how much trouble we’re in.” He chuckles softly, a hint of sadness in the sound. “Just...ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.” He admits, a well of emotion pressing down on his chest.

Wrecker’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable even in the silence of the clinic. He wishes he could shake this feeling of helplessness and do more than just sit by your side, waiting for a sign of life. But for now, all he can offer is his unwavering presence and a steady stream of conversation, hoping against hope that somewhere within your subconscious, you can hear him.

Keep going. You need to keep going.

The darkness claws at you, desperate to slow you down and draw you into its embrace. But the light grows closer with every step you take, with every thud of your heart as you race forward. Amidst your footsteps echoing in the void is the faintest whisper of something familiar.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

“Wreck!” You cry out into the darkness, feet faltering for a second as you recognise the deep voice. The darkness tries to take advantage of your momentary hiccup, but with a yelp, you pick up your pace. The hope that lingers in your heart explodes. As you draw closer to the light, Wrecker’s voice comes into focus. “Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what.”

With renewed determination, you push yourself harder, every muscle in your body screaming for rest, but you refuse to give in. The light grows brighter, its warmth now palpable against your skin.

And then, just as you’re on the verge of stepping into the light, a sudden force knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Panic grips your chest as you scramble, desperate to continue your pursuit.

But the darkness has other plans, closing in around you like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the light. Amidst the coldness creeping through your body, you cling to the memory of Wrecker’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness.

Body straining, you crawl forward, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, determination burning bright within you. You don’t belong in the darkness. You belong in the light. With them. With him.

Straining, you reach out an arm, trembling fingers skimming the edge of the light as Wrecker’s voice comes through loud and clear. “…ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.”

The darkness recoils. 

With a final surge of strength, you propel yourself forward, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the void. The light envelops you, wrapping you in its warm embrace as the shadows recede into the distance, getting further and further away. Relief floods through you, tears of joy mingling with sweat on your cheeks.

Head tilting back, you look up at the light, a bubble of laughter escaping as you bask in the glow. Eyes fluttering shut, you savour the moment. Yet this time, when you open your eyes, there’s no darkness or blinding light anymore. 

You blink. Once. Twice. The soft hum of medical equipment fills the air. And there, beside you, is Wrecker, head bowed, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours. 

Everything seems to freeze except the frantic thudding of your heart. “Wreck…” You whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse as you dare to hope you’re back. Really back. 

Wrecker’s head jolts up at the rasped sound of his name, his good eye widening as he meets your gaze, your name falling from his lips as his features crumple, a heaving sob of relief escaping him.

You slowly sit up, wincing at the ache that shoots through your shoulder. It’s still tender, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions that wash over you at the sight of Wrecker’s tear-streaked face. 

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in reality. “I’m here.” You murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him.

Wrecker’s grip tightens around your hand as if afraid you might slip away again if he lets go. He leans into your touch, his words catching in his throat momentarily before he stands, leaning over the bed to envelop you in an embrace, protective yet gentle, conscious of your shoulder. “You’re back.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Thought I almost lost ya.”

Weak but grateful, you return his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence washing over you, grounding you in reality. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him worrying about you, thinking he would lose you. “Not going anywhere, big guy.” You reassure him, sniffling as you try to keep a lid on your emotions. “The others?” You ask cautiously, dread curling in your gut. 

“All made it,” Wrecker confirms, arms slowly uncurling from around you as he sits back in his chair, hand scooping up yours so he can maintain some contact. 

Your dread is swept away and replaced immediately by relief; this time, you don’t bother holding back your sobs.

“No cryin’, pretty girl. Please.” Wrecker’s heart aches at the sight, his free hand moving to cup your face and wipe away the tears.

You smile through your tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. Wrecker’s touch is like a lifeline. “Sorry.” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to reign in your feelings. “Just...so relieved.”

Wrecker offers you a tender smile. “No need to apologise, sarad,” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. A bolt of courage has him leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead.

As Wrecker’s lips meet your forehead, warmth seeps through you, chasing away the last remnants of the dark coldness. He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting yours, and the air feels electric. Without a word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as your lips finally meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. 

And you realize that amidst the chaos and darkness, love has always been the guiding light, leading you back to where you belong.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

#Soarings Ask Box #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch x you #tbb x reader #tbb x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker #wrecker the bad batch #wrecker bad batch #bad batch wrecker #wrecker #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #clone force 99

[becauseplot]

Philza Minecraft is a survivalist. 

Everyone knows this. He's the "Hardcore guy." He's an expert in the inner-workings of the natural world. He's vigilant. He knows how to hold his own in a fight, and he knows when to cut his losses, too. He knows how to keep himself alive. By extension, he knows how to keep his team alive as well. It only makes sense that they elect him as the leader of red team.

Philza Minecraft is a team player.

This is why he's always happy to go grinding for materials when the team needs it. Even if he tends to get a little distracted sometimes, wandering too far, forgetting to check global chat or talk in the team vc, he checks in with his friends and does what he can to keep morale up when everyone is feeling down. He recognizes the ease with which Cellbit operates in this environment, so he lets the man call some of the shots, or give Phil instructions. After all, Cellbit led the Ordo for months. Phil trusts his judgement. Why not play to their strengths? 

Philza Minecraft is an adapter. 

His biome doesn’t matter, nor his circumstances, nor his equipment. He’s started over more times than he can count. Working under stress isn’t something that hinders him, nor changing environments. If the game of the day is complete the tasks, he can complete the tasks. If the game of the day is kill a player, he can kill a player. He might hate it, but he can do it. For the sake of his friends, of his team, of his kids, and of their collective survival, he can do it.

There is something else worth mentioning. 

Philza Minecraft is a liar. 

Oh, but you’ll never catch him in a lie, because it’s never what he does say. It’s what he doesn’t. It’s the details he omits. It’s the parts of the tale that he glosses over so that the bedtime story isn’t quite so scary. He’ll give you everything he wants you to have and hold the rest of it close to his chest. Or, more accurately, he'll slam it in a locked box and shove it under his bed with the rest of his monsters. 

He was an asset to the Empire. 

Back then, he always asked the right questions: not "why," but "how," and "when." Back then, he knew he was valuable, so he kept himself alive. Back then, "the Angel of Death" wasn't so much a nickname as it was a title he earned. A rank.

He never became a general. The promotion was there, and he was more than qualified, he just never took it. He was content to let his friend take the helm, because Phil knew what he was.

"Knew." "Was." Was, was, was. (Come on, now, Phil. Don't be daft.)

Philza Minecraft is a liar; the man he lies to the most is himself. Yes, Purgatory is fucked and twisted, and he hates what it forces him to do, but not because it's hard. No. Because it's far too easy.

At the end of the day, what matters most is that Philza Minecraft is an arrow. Let someone else nock him in a bow. Let someone else draw him back, point him in a direction, let him loose, soar, fly. Resources, gear, tasks, points, kills, blood---it makes no difference. Philza Minecraft won't stop until he hits his target.

#qsmp philza #qsmp purgatory #character study #I FINALLY GOT MY THOUGHTS ABOUT QPHILZA AND PURGATORY INTO SOMETHING COHERENT ENOUGH TO POST SOMETHING ABT IT #EVERYONE CLAP AND CHEER #philza rp characters are always support roles!! he is the thunder to the lightning in every context!!! can anyone hear me!!!!! #dont mind me im just rambling #my writing

[witch-hazels-musings]

I never liked dreaming

warning -> none, sfw, fluff <3 | happy birthday little, yaksha

xiao x gn reader | Anthology

I never liked dreaming

Xiao opened his eyes and the light shined in. through the breaks in the leaves and swaying branches, through the passing clouds, and in between the birds that soared without him. he watched as they went with their flock, haloed in gold.

he turned his head to the cliff edge, one leg dangling absently as his hand unfurled to catch a falling petal from a perilously clinging tree. its roots deep and mingled with the falling stone. the color reminded him of the gentle images that had slowly taken over the dark of his mind. the hue that, bit by bit, tore down his torment and replaced it with a warmth he'd left behind eons ago.

you called his name, and he fell to meet you.

Xiao reappeared on the other side of the fog and found you standing there, arms held out and holding a small box. It was tradition. Every year on the same day, the same day Morax first beckoned him into breath, you were there to offer him some mortal trinket. He stopped trying to convince you to let the day go by like any other before it, and all the ones after. You never backed down. Though he never cared much for the item you gave him, he had grown desperately attached to how you looked at him when he opened it.

your smile.

your laugh.

your eyes.

He had seen mortals fall so many times he lost count, each blurred into the next like ripples in a stream. But you floated, drifted, and flourished in his gaze. A testament to what was possible, what humanity could give.

a being haunted by a tainted soul shouldn't be allowed so close.

"What do you want to do next?" you asked him as if the world was in the palm of your hands and, if it were within his power, he'd put it there.

Xiao mulled over the question, pondered on an answer. It didn't matter as long as - he dropped his head and tried to speak clearly. "May I lay on your lap?"

He peered at you with sharp eyes and felt his chest ignite at your expression. Perhaps it was too much of a request - he shouldn't be touching you anyway, it wasn't safe.

You didn't reply with your voice, instead, you sat on the ground, legs bent, and held your hand to him. He breathed and moved to rest against you.

Your warmth seeped into his skin. The back of his neck burned at the contact. Swallowing, he adjusted until the grass below him lay flat until his fingers relaxed against his chest and - only slightly - dug into his clothes.

"Comfortable?" you asked as your fingers brushed his bangs. Gentle, slow strokes that lulled his eyes heavy. He nodded and you continued to trail featherlight fingers across his brow, through his hair. He turned into the familiar. into the safety of you.

His eyes closed and the colors bloomed so brightly the darkness receded until the shape of you remained.

I never liked dreaming.

"Happy birthday, Xiao."

until now,

until it was you

I kept seeing

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #xiao x gn reader #xiao x reader #xiao fluff

[kararisa]

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

#albedo x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #albedo fluff #ayato fluff #scaramouche fluff #childe fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin modern au #genshin drabbles

[nexysworld]

Chapter Summary: You finally make a decision on your relationship. Unfortunately for you it will lead to untold horrors you couldn't have imagined. Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

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You continued staring up at the ceiling recovering from the self-induced orgasm. Aftershocks made your legs twitch and tense, you wiggled them about to try and ease the sensation. Finally having the energy to roll over, your view changed from the ceiling to the wall, lined with your stuffed animals. 

Childish maybe, but you always had a fond spot for them, never having been able to throw them away. Some were old, made of patchwork with faded colors – a reminder of your childhood. Others were newer, like the overstuffed pumpkin that Derek had won you for Halloween one year, or the small teddy bear Leon had given you, a present from one of his work trips. 

Your eyes lingered on the squishy pumpkin, the memory of Derek giving it to you rushed to the forefront of your memory. It had been one of your favorite dates together, spontaneously deciding to stop by the boardwalk after dinner one evening. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy overpowered the smell of the ocean as you walked along the clackity wooden path. Halloween décor was tacked on to everything in sight, even the prizes were ghosts, pumpkins, and black cats. 

“You look good like that.” He said, flashing a smile. You tugged on the brim of the cheap witch’s hat, trying to ensure the paper thin material wasn’t going to fly off in the wind. “You calling me a witch?” You gasped in mock offense. “‘Course not baby, I would never.“ He’d doubled over in laughter, spilling the soda on his favorite

band t-shirt. “Oh shit.” He shook the black fabric with one hand trying to get some of the excess liquid off. Slapping his arm playfully, you kissed his cheek. “That’s what you get for being a jerk.” “But I’m your jerk, right?” He raised a brow leaning down to return your affection for a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, you’re my jerk.” 

As the two of you made your way down more of the game booths something caught your eye – a huge fat pumpkin with a little spider attached to it. The thing was easily the size of your entire body, and you really wanted it. Coming to a dead stop, you tugged on Derek’s sleeve before pointing at it. “Make it up to me, win me that!” He froze for a second, a nervous laugh exiting his mouth. “I mean I can definitely try…” 

The game runner ate it up, goading Derek to play. He explained it was simple, just toss it at an angle, get the ball into the bucket and boom – prize!

The first ball bounced off the plastic basket almost hitting a child in the face. The second ball followed the course of the first one. The third one impressively flew even farther, and Derek had to run to go get it. “Again.” He said determined, though the next round didn’t fare much better. By the fourth round, you weren’t able to contain your laughter anymore, which only served to egg him on. “Come on baby, I was only kidding. I don’t need it.” “I’m going to win it, just you watch.” “If you say so.” You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “I still believe in you, the millionth time’s the charm.”

You weren’t sure how many losses he’d suffered but you knew he’d coughed up nearly $200 and had nothing to show for it. It made your heart soar a little knowing he was willing and determined to get this for you. 

Lo and behold the last time was the charm, he’d still missed the first two shots, but the third one landed in the basket and stayed there. The smallest of the three bells rang out indicating a win and the game runner clapped behind the counter. “Congratulations!” He shouted with an exaggerated tone before taking his long hooked stick out to yank a prize down. 

It wasn’t the gigantic pumpkin, but it was just perfect in its own right. Medium sized and plump, you squished it to your chest in a hug before capturing Derek’s lips with your own. “It's perfect.”

“Mm, no you’re perfect.” He replied smoothly, wrapping an arm around you from behind as the pair of you made your way further down towards the rides. It had been getting later into the evening, things were dying down a bit. The Ferris wheel was still running and you decided to end the night on the ride together. 

The city was beautiful, sparkling likes juxtaposed against the dark buildings and streets, stars twinkling above. You could see your apartment building, and the coffee shop Derek worked at down the way. Unconsciously you snuggled closer to him in your seat, leaning your head against his shoulder. The words had slipped out of his mouth so casually you’d almost missed it, so relaxed into the moment. “What was that?” You asked softly. “I said I love you.” He replied, petting your hair. It caused your heartbeat to speed up as you registered what he’d said. The air hung heavy with the confession.

“I love you too.”

A hollow and guilty feeling erupted in your chest and made its way down to your stomach at the memory. Post nut clarity was a wild thing – and now that your head was clear everything was starting to make sense. 

Derek had been right, about everything. What did it say about you that hours ago you’d fought with him about your attachment to Leon, and now here you were getting yourself off to the very guy he was worried about. ‘I’m such an asshole.’

You squeezed the pumpkin close to yourself, taking in the still faded but lingering scent of Derek’s cologne. The urge to cry caused you to curl in on yourself for a moment, but you managed to suppress the tears behind a few sniffles. A soft breath escaped you, and you placed the pumpkin back on the shelf. 

Before you rolled back over you glanced next to the pumpkin at the small teddy bear Leon had gifted you. It was black, about the size of your hand. He said he’d brought it back from Spain on his last work trip – something you had been meaning to ask him about more in depth but never got the chance. It was cute, and it meant a lot to you at the time, but now it made your heart ache. ‘Should I get rid of it maybe? It’s not like Leon would know.’

You reached over to grab the small stuffed animal, looking it over, running your fingers against the soft fur. Something caught your eye, a red light in the left eye. It was a faded light, and you could only see it at certain angles. ‘What the –?’ You inspected it more closely, but nothing else was obviously amiss.

‘Maybe the eyes were supposed to light up or something.’ You shrugged, putting the tiny bear back where it belonged, deciding you didn’t have the heart to toss it, hoping Derek just wouldn’t notice its existence. 

Guilty and resolved to making things right, you mulled over what you’d say to Leon, to Derek. You didn’t want to abandon your friendship, but if that’s what it would take, you weren’t going to throw your relationship away – and maybe it would be better for your friendship if you weren’t so close. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nervousness caused you to be jittery, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stood outside his door. ‘You got this. Leon’s a good guy, he’ll understand. He’ll understand.’ You let out a deep sigh, hyping yourself up before knocking on his door. 

The second your eyes met the endless blue of his, regret washed over you from head to toe. The way he leaned against the doorframe, you’d caught him after a workout again, shirtless a sheen of sweat coating his muscles. It was the first time you’d seen him completely shirtless and it was making your brain go haywire a bit. 

Suddenly a palm was in your face, waving. “Hello, Earth to Ms. 306, you there?”  

You were snapped back to the moment. “Sorry, I was spacing out for a moment.” “You don’t say.” He laughed, standing up straight. “Well you’re the one who knocked on my door. What’s up?” “About that. The other night with Derek I uh….” How exactly were you going to explain this? “I think it’s best if maybe you and I saw less of each other.”

Hurt washed over his features. “What? Did I do something wrong?” “No, it’s nothing like that.” “I’m just confused, the guy left you at the theater and –” “I know and that was shitty of him. He just seems to think you and I are too close, and I mean I get it. I can’t say I would be comfortable if he spent as much time with another girl as I do with you.” Averting your eyes, you stared down at your feet. “I’m sorry Leon. It’s just, I do love him and I want to try and work on things ya know? Like you’re a super awesome friend and if it were up to me I’d keep things the way they are but it makes him uncomfortable…so….”

“Of course. I understand completely.” 

You swore there was a slightly strained sound to his voice, you didn’t push it though, happy that he was accepting of things. “Thank you Lee.” Like a coward, you scurried off the moment the conversation concluded.

Luckily Derek had been willing to talk things out and once you had mentioned breaking things off with Leon – if you could even call it that – his mood changed entirely. It  melted your heart to see the way his face lit up, to feel his arms around you. It affirmed in the moment you had made the right decision.

Things fell back into place like nothing had been wrong – except this time around everything was so much more smooth, a love rekindled. You found yourself talking for hours every night before bed time, laughing at dumb stories, falling asleep before the call ended. 

Date nights were becoming a regular occurrence again too, walks in the park, midnight movies. 

All in all things were great, but there was something you just couldn’t shake from the back of your mind. Every moment with Derek, every touch, kiss, conversation – it managed to abate your guilt for him, but all you could do was linger on the fact that something was just missing. 

Obviously you knew the culprit – Leon. 

Somehow, despite everything, you couldn’t shake him from your mind. You missed him terribly and he managed to invade your thoughts at the worst possible moments. Kissing Derek, you’d close your eyes and wonder what it would feel like if Leon had been on the other end.

Walking through the hallway of the battered building felt lonely without the conversations you would have and the laughter that entailed. Helping Mrs. Wilson hurt the most, having to tread to the pharmacy by foot made you miss Leon’s Jeep and the moments spent together. The few times you actually did bump into Leon or catch a glimpse of him, it hurt. 

“This is ridiculous.” You said to yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, sitting on your bed. Derek had just dropped you back home after a date, and again the only person on your mind wasn’t the one it should be. “He’s just my neighbor, a friend.” 

Letting out a sigh, you thought about the evening with Derek. He’d actually suggested moving in together now that things were getting better between the two of you. Of course you were hesitant at first, this apartment had a lot of sentimental value and leaving it behind meant taking on a new chapter of your life – it was scary. Thinking back on everything though, you were beginning to think it was a good idea. 

Everything here was reminding you of someone you can’t – shouldn’t have. Leon had been too meshed within your daily routine, and you figured a change of scenery could help with that. You could still check in with Mrs. Wilson, but not have to be reminded of him every single day. 

Resolved to your decision, you texted Derek to let him know. Not knowing why, you had the urge to tell Leon. You didn’t technically have to, and you knew that it wasn’t like you owed him an explanation – it just felt like the right thing to do. 

Still too much of a coward to face him or call, you opted to text him instead. 

‘Long time no talk. Hope ur well. :) ’

Locking the screen, you set the phone down on the nightstand, surprised when less than a minute later it buzzed with a reply. 

‘Just dandy! :) U doin ok?’

‘Yeah!’

‘U sure? not like u to txt out of nowhere.’

‘just had some news i dunno.’

‘news? hope its good lol’

‘i think so… Derek asked me to move in with him.’ 

The three bubbles to indicate he was typing popped up for a mysteriously long amount of time, making you anxious. Finally they stopped, and you waited – nothing. Thirty minutes passed by before you finally received a response. 

‘thats awesome! 👍’

Not sure how to reply, you simply didn’t. The expectation of relief after breaking the news didn’t come, but you pushed it aside. ‘Things are changing. You’ll be just fine once you’re out of here.’

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

The next time you saw Derek was about three days later – the two of you had a camping trip date planned for the weekend. With your duffel bag packed, you took the opportunity to walk  to his apartment, wanting to surprise him that morning. 

The weather was perfectly temperate and it felt nice to have fresh air and sun on your skin, without freezing to death or sweating bullets. The sounds of the city set you at ease, familiar shops and people passing you by as you made your way.

The only odd thing was Derek hadn’t replied to your text. It was just a simple ‘Good Morning’ but it wasn’t like him to not respond. Thinking he was likely just busy getting ready or slept in late, you shrugged it off. This trip was the start of something new – plans to move upon returning – and you weren’t about to let anything stop you from making it positive. Even any thought of Leon was temporarily pushed to the back of your mind. 

His apartment building was a lot nicer, and in a better part of the city. The ivory building came into view and you all but ran from the outside staircase up to the second floor where his home was. Sliding the spare key into the knob, you knew something was wrong immediately – the lights were off and the whole place just felt stale.

“Der?” You called out, flipping the living room light on. “You here?” No response came, you looked out the window to the parking lot and sure enough his car was there – no camping gear on top though. 

Making your way further inside the apartment, you looked around for any sign of him. His keys were tossed on the stained coffee table where they always were. His shoes were by the front door. There was no immediate sign of exit or entry. 

His bedroom door was closed though, something you knew was unusual – he always left it open even at bed time. 

“Der?” You called again, gently cracking the door open. The room was dark, curtains drawn and no artificial light to be found. Your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you saw the lump of human form underneath the bed sheets, comforter having been discarded onto the floor. “Baby?” You gently shook him, turning the nightstand light on to the lowest setting. The sheets were moist and sweat soaked, his brows were knitted together in his unconscious state – like a nightmare. It took a few more forceful movements before he finally stirred, shooting up in the bed. “What the fuck!? Oh…oh my god baby I’m sorry. You scared the shit out of me.” He brought his hand over his heart as he caught his breath. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you but when I came in everything seemed off. Are you alright?” “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling well. Guess I slept in.” “You’re soaking with sweat, are you sure you’re ok to go? We can just stay in if you’re not well.” “No baby, I’m fine. I promise.” He gave you a weak smile before kissing your cheek. “Just let me take a quick shower and pack up.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I can start carrying the gear down to the car.” He did not look okay at all. His eyes seemed more sunken than usual, skin pale and clammy. Something beyond that just felt off - but he continued to insist everything was fine. 

“Maybe just stop by urgent care real quick. I mean if you are sick maybe they could give you something for it that you can take on the trip?” “Baby, we’re halfway to the campsite. All I need is some fresh air and time with my girlfriend. I told you I feel fine.” “Alright…” You had to admit the campsite he picked was beautiful. This flat plane of grassy area set atop a hill, you could see the entire valley below including the river – the mountains and the sky were along the horizon too. It was beyond breathtaking and you could only imagine the view once the sun set and the stars began to twinkle unimpeded by the city lights. The little area was surrounded by a thick layer of trees, giving you plenty of privacy.

Awestruck by it all, the thought of Derek’s condition nearly dissipated entirely from your thoughts – he seemed to be getting better anyway, easily handling stretching out the tarp, and hammering the stakes into the ground for the tent base. 

“At least one of us is useful.” You teased, nearly getting tangled in the plastic and wiring of the tent. Attempting to bend one of the thin metal sticks down to loop into another section, it flung back whipping you in the face instead. “Fuck, ouch.” A nice thin slice of blood trickled down the stinging red mark on your face. You covered that side of your face with your sleeve. “Can you grab me the first aid kit?” 

There was no response to your request, heavy silence ringing out into the air. “Babe?” Using your good eye you looked over to where he was working on the base, he stood staring at you. “Derek? Hello?” Something about it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t describe, like a 6th sense. “This isn’t funny.” His eyes seemed darker, and his body movement frozen as he gripped the hammer in his hand, tightly. “You’re starting to scare me!”

Snapping out of it, he shook his head before smiling, posture instantly relaxing. “What are you talking about – oh my god are you okay?” He ran over to inspect you and you noted his skin felt weird and cold against your own, not like the usual wet heat you’d experience with a fever. You weren’t sure what to make of it at all, but concern grew within you. “What was that all about?” “What are you talking about?” He replied, dabbing gently at your face with the alcohol pad. A hiss left your lips at the stinging sensation. 

“You just stood there staring at me, totally spaced out.” “I don’t remember that at all.” “Derek, are you sure you’re okay? Like really okay?” “Are you going to keep asking me that this entire trip?” “No, I just….” “Look, let’s finish getting set up for the night, I promise you’ll feel better once we’re settled in.” Another quick kiss and he grabbed the part of the tent you’d been fumbling with to finish putting it together. Not wanting to be near him at the moment, you chose to take his advice, stringing up the solar-fairy lights around the trees and moving to get the campfire spot set up. 

“All done?” “All done!” He said giving you a high five. “Looks great babe, the lights are really cute. I can't wait to see them tonight.” “Me either.” You replied, kissing him – the cold clammy feeling still there. 

There were still a few hours left in the day before sundown, so you opted to explore along the trail for a while. Derek seemed okay initially, his breaks were paced out in a way that made sense. As the day turned to late afternoon though, his breathing seemed to be more labored, breaks became more and more frequent. 

You wanted to say something badly, but knowing he’d blow you off you kept it to yourself hoping it was just a cold or something. 

By early evening, he was looking rough, red veins in his eyes accentuated by deep purple bags, shivers running through him despite the air having become more humid. His bouts of spacing out became more frequent too – randomly staring off into space nodding as if he was in agreement with some invisible thing. 

The worst was when he’d disappeared for 30 minutes on a piss break. You’d found him face first against the tree, urine on his shoes, cock still in hand. Even the sound of your voice didn’t stir him from the spot – nor did shaking his shoulder. 

It was another 5 minutes before he snapped out of it this time, smiling at you? “How’s your eye feeling?” Was all he asked as he zipped himself up. 

A fear stitched itself together within you and more and more you were working on ways to get out of here – to get him some help because something was not right and it definitely wasn’t a cold. This was beyond your comprehension or ability to assist with.

As night began to shadow the area, the two of you made it back to your campsite. The lights you'd hung glistened against the backdrop of the dark woods giving you enough light to set up the fire. Insisting on it, you tucked Derek beneath a thick blanket on the camping chair and begged him to rest.

You considered calling 911, but the thought of all the lights and sirens worried you that it might spook the clearly ill man or provoke him. What you really needed at the moment was advice because you frankly didn’t know what to do, but you were scared.

“Here, drink this.” You said handing him the thermos of now heated soup. “Just try to rest for a bit.” You kissed his forehead. He was getting worse now, feeling like he had been dipped in an ice bath, you never knew a human could get so cold. You swear his veins were getting darker too, at least the ones around his neck – but it could’ve just been the low lighting. “I have to go to the little girl’s tree, I’ll be back.” You assured him, walking until you hoped you were out of earshot. Your phone was gripped tightly in your hand as you paced trying to figure out the best course of action. ‘Can 911 even make it out here? Do people really call 911 over a sick person?’ 

“Fuck, I don’t know what to do.” Unlocking your phone, you squinted, eyes adjusting to the overwhelming brightness of the screen in the dark area. “Who would?” You scrolled through your contacts list at least 5 times – only one name ringing in your head. “I mean he works for the government – not that I know what he does exactly … but maybe?” 

The phone rang with a crackling sound indicating the poor connection from the wilderness – relief flooded over you as the other end of the line picked up. “Leon, thank god. I know this is wildly inappropriate given everything but I need –” Before you even finished you realized he couldn’t hear you. The staticky noise picking up, his voice echoing in and out sounding robotic. The line disconnected on it’s own and the top corner read ‘no signal.’ “Fuck!” You kicked the trunk of the tree in front of you.

“Babe?” The sound of Derek’s voice brought you back, it sounded so weak and hoarse. “I’ll be right there.” You yelled back. “Babe?” He called again. “Babe I’m scared.”

The words made you shiver, the hair on your neck raised – it sounded like Derek, but not at the same time. You still forced that feeling aside and marched back to camp, legs feeling like sand bags as you made them move against your own will. 

“What’s wrong –”

You stopped just behind the tent, he was standing there facing you, the fire illuminating his skin. “Babe, I’m scared.” He repeated again, though his face held no emotion – completely expressionless. Dark black vein made spiderwebs along his skin, running from his arms up onto his face. His irises looked black, red blood vessels in both eyes popped making him look like a demon. The corners of his mouth had blood dried to them. 

He coughed into his hand, more blood coming out. “Help me.” He reached a hand out towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back away from him. “Help me.” He repeated again stepping forward directly into the campfire – unphased by the flames that were licking away at his clothing, his skin. For each step he took forward, you took one back, legs shaking as silent tears spilled. A visceral fear like you’d never experience before sent shockwaves throughout your entire body. 

He brought two burning hands to his head, the flames catching at his hair while he continued to stumble forward at an uneven pace. “My head. It’s splitting my head.” His voice became warbled as he spoke, like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. “You’re scaring me….” You managed to squeak out, barely above a whisper. 

“IT’S SPLITTING MY HEAD!” He shouted this time, head twisting to the side the sound of his neck cracking. His features began to warp, nose pulling to the left, mouth twisting, eyes swirling as the flesh tore and split apart – the sound of wet tearing making you feel ill. 

A small worm-like thing poked out of the top of his head, before it darted out, growing and growing in size. A second later his head finally tore an explosion of tentacles waving around in the air, like purple blood worms dancing above the neck of his burning body. His features, the ones you knew so well were twisted amongst the new flesh. 

The now sideways mouth opened into a hiss, long tongue slithering out like a snake. Warm urine trickled down your leg against your will, fear paralyzing any movement or rational thought. There was no comprehension of what was in front of you. 

Despite the flames melting the flesh of the body, it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. A tentacle whipped itself forward, slapping against the tree above you, nearly hitting you. The slimy slapping sound was enough to get your legs moving, despite how wobbly they were. 

You took off into the dark of the woods, leaves crunching beneath you. Shadows danced around your vision in the moonlight that only casted down between the canopy of the trees. The yellow light behind you mixed with the gargling and fleshy noises told you the creature was behind you in pursuit. Branches and bushes whipped your skin leaving you with cuts and welts you couldn’t feel through the adrenaline – path lost you just went as long as you could.

You saw the opening to the camp parking lot, the low streetlamps like a guiding star. “Help!” You shouted, waving an arm as you ran. “God help me!” You screamed again hoping someone would hear you. In your haze you hadn’t noticed the overgrown root curled out of the ground, it caught your ankle right before you made it to the cement of the parking lot.

Your face hit the yellow barrier of the closest spot, a crunching pop against your nose, iron infecting your sense of smell. When the stars stopped buzzing around your head, you looked down to see your ankle still caught under the root, twisted and purple – bone sticking out through the side.

The hissing sound told you the creature wasn’t far behind, the tips of the tentacles appearing just within your now hazed vision. Coughing on the blood that spilled into the back of your throat via your likely now broken nose, you tried to crawl backwards, but couldn’t the pain in your ankle too great. The creature was right above you now, drool and slime dripping down onto your face as they wriggled around. Closing your eyes to brace a loud explosion sound rung out, all parts of your face and exposed skin suddenly covered in sticky and warm liquid. Cracking an eye open, you saw the body of the creature as it hit the ground. 

Looking down at yourself, you were wearing blood and teeth and other viscera that had splattered against you. Your hand shakily reached into your tank top feeling at the squishy thing that landed in your bra. 

Bile worked its way out of you upon discovering the eyeball in your hand, tossing it before losing the rest of your stomach contents out onto the open ground. In too much shock and shaking, your vision went black as you slipped into unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~~~~

Head reeling you refused to open your eyes, purposefully scrunching them shut against the invading sunlight. You felt like you’d been hit by a bus, every part of you was either sore or stung. As your brain slowly started coming to, the first thing you realized was the smell – out of place but familiar. That spicy and intense cologne – Leon?

‘But why would Leon be in your tent?’ The image of the blonde appeared in your mind making you giggle a moment. Then it occurred to you, you were fully conscious. Confused you opened one eye and then the other, wincing as they adjusted to the light. 

It wasn’t your tent. It wasn’t even your apartment. You sat up as quickly as your mangled body would allow, heart rate picking up again. “Hey there, you’re finally awake.” Snapping to the door you saw him there, a look of concern on his face. “Leon?” “In the flesh.” He said softly making his way over to you, sitting on the side of the bed. “Where am I?” “In my apartment. How are you feeling?” “What happened?” “I was hoping you could tell me that. You called me frantic, when I finally found you, you were hurt and completely out of it. Had to pull some connections to make sure the hospital would even let me take you home.” “What? Where’s Derek?” “Who are you talking about sweetheart?” “Derek? My boyfriend, he and I were camping and he had a cold and then he turned into a monster and…and…” “Shhhh.” He soothed, rubbing your back. “Hey, its okay, you’re safe now there’s no monsters. You’re okay, I’m here.” He adjusted himself so he could pull you closer into him encompassing you with his warmth and frame. 

The weight of his arms around you and the sound of his voice soothed you frantic mumbling as you sobbed into his chest, wetting the cotton fabric with snot and tears. He paid no mind, not letting up on the affection until it died down into sniffles and hiccups. You clung to him like a koala to a tree, desperate to feel better in some way, so overwhelmed with everything. 

Sleep quickly overtook you again, sleeping into dreamless unconsciousness against his form.

As always this is inspired by @explorevenus fic Something Permanent as well as @gigabyte-flare, @girldungeon, and @lipglossanon's work. @elfven-blog was so kind as to help find the banner pics. Love them all, go check out their work.

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#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #yandere! leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #yandere! leon kenned x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re4 #re4r #re4r leon #guardian angel fic #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #yandere #yandere leon #yandere!leon

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: can u do a jude request where he dedicates a goal to the reader? thanks xx (anonymous)

Word Count: 367 words

(author's note: thanks you for the request lovie 🫶)

Jude loved playing for Real Madrid. He loved it even more when his beloved girlfriend came to watch him do what he did best. The look of pride in her eyes drove him more than anyone else could.

Jude’s nerves were at an all-time high. He was getting ready to play in his first El Clasicó match, and he wanted nothing more than to make his loved ones proud. His girlfriend, Y/N, was up in the box wearing his jersey. Knowing her shirt was adorned with his name, reassured him that everything was okay.

The match began. Barcelona got an early lead, but Jude refused to let it affect him. He played with more passion and devotion than he ever had. He ran up and down the pitch, desperate to help his team. The idea of scoring a goal didn’t even cross his mind. 

His chance came in the 68th minute. Without thinking, he struck the ball with as much power as he could muster. It soared through the air, landing in the top left corner of the net.

He pulled his signature celebration out of the bag as his team joined him to congratulate him. Jude swore to himself that if he scored again, he would dedicate it to Y/N.

Up in the box, Y/N was cheering. She loved watching her boyfriend play football, and watching his score was the cherry on top. However, she didn’t know about Jude’s plan.

His second chance arrived from Luka, who flicked on a cross from another player. Jude received it, and before he knew it, the ball flew into the net. True to the promise he’d made to himself, he turned to face the box where his girlfriend sat.

Jude pointed up at Y/N and moved his fingers into a heart shape, showing her that his goal was dedicated to her. Y/N smiled down at him and blew him a kiss. Having the winning goal of a game dedicated to her made her heart flutter. The affection behind the gesture planted an unerasable smile on her face.

Jude blew Y/N a kiss back, demonstrating to her just how much she meant to him.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #football #fanfiction #fanfic #hot footballers #request #real madrid fc #anon request #by ts1m1kas