#at least they get to sit in chairs while they work

[zekepng]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

One evening, a familiar neighbour approaches you and requests a favour, even though it's late. You willingly assist him and he doesn't let you leave without generously rewarding you for your helpfulness. 

Milkman (Francis Mosses) one shot, explicit content - fanart: Yunonoai on twitter

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As you settle into your seat, you feel your eyelids growing heavy from the gentle sway. It's a quiet Sunday, with only a few souls venturing through. It seems like the majority of the neighbours have chosen to stay home and take a break today.

You found some satisfaction in your job, despite your preference for being at home on a Sunday. 

At least you're earning a paycheck for your efforts to do nothing.

Just like magic, the elevator doors glide open, as if anticipating your thoughts. You awaken, your gaze drawn to the window shielding your office. Anastacha glances in your direction, offering a brief wave and a smile before gracefully heading towards the exit.

You reciprocate the gesture, ensuring there are no witnesses nearby.

Before slipping on your headphones, you steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to see the hand inching closer to ten, but it's barely making its way to eight.

Once again, as if following a precise rhythm, your tired eyes gently close.

Until the sound of forceful pounding against the glass abruptly jolts them awake. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, suddenly snapping upright in a state of sheer panic.

You abruptly lose track of your surroundings, momentarily transported from your peaceful bed to an unfamiliar place.

You find yourself sinking into the uncomfortable chair, feeling the strain in your back as you gaze out through the transparent barrier that separates you from the outside world. You can't help but feel a rush of surprise as you lay your eyes on the towering figure before you, his gentle smile adding a touch of warmth to the scene.

"Long shift?" He asks, his head slightly tilted. His gentle, deep brown eyes fixate on you, capturing a flicker of delight in your astonished expression.

"Francis," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You remove the headphones from your ears and sit up straight in your chair.

As per his usual attire, he wears a pristine white shirt and sleek black trousers, complemented by a stylish black bow tie. With his trademark white hat perched atop his tousled brown silk hair, it's clear that he's having a particularly dishevelled day.

“Did I startle you?” He asks, his voice carrying a sense of innocence as he gently removes his hat from his head.

You tear your eyes away from his, only to steal a quick glance at the clock, hoping to catch any sign of time passing. You find it shocking that what seemed like an eternity actually lasted a mere half an hour. "Well, I never expected anyone to approach me," you murmur softly.

"My apologies, (y/n)," he says with a playful laugh, “but I need you to get into my apartment.” 

As you regain consciousness, a wave of disorientation washes over you. You gaze at him with a bewildered expression, desperately trying to comprehend his words. Suddenly, he utters, "My keys, (y/n). You have my keys, just like you do every day.” 

Your cheeks flush as a wave of embarrassment washes over you, all while he stares at you with a gentle smile, almost bordering on a smirk. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.” You casually reach over and take his house keys from the hook.

“I guess I’m not the only forgetful one here,” he chuckles, clutching the keys to his truck in his hand.

During your week of working here, you formed a pact with Francis. Because of his tendency to forget, he would often misplace one of his keys and ask for a spare. In order to avoid this recurring issue, you both decided to make an arrangement where his keys would be kept downstairs at your desk.

As he inches towards the glass, a sense of confusion washes over you until he finally says, “I have another favour I need you to do for me.” 

“Which is?” You ask, carefully examining his features. You trace the contours of his nose, gradually becoming absorbed in your own thoughts—lewd thoughts.

You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him as he talks.

The gaze in his almond-shaped eyes carries a captivating yet mysterious allure.

Every time he passes by, his demeanour seems gloomy, but a flicker of joy illuminates his eyes when he catches a glimpse of you. However, that happiness quickly dissipates as his smile vanishes.

You can't help but imagine the intense gaze and the heated encounter as he bends you over your desk and fucks you senseless. 

Your mind is swirling with questions like, What noise does he make? Is he loud? Would he fuck you good? Is it big?

It has to be big.

There is a mysterious presence about him that eludes comprehension, yet it holds you captivated.

“So, can I?” He asks, jolting you back to reality as you realise you've completely zoned out and missed his entire conversation.

You find yourself shaking your head in disbelief, struggling to process his words. However, your mind becomes overwhelmed with a flurry of unanswered questions. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?”

“I asked if I could place a few of my milk trays in your office as I unload them from my truck? It’s far colder there than it is out here,” he asks, causing your eyes to cautiously shift between his face and the office floor, contemplating if they would even fit.

“It’s just so that I don’t have to keep going to my truck all the way to the third floor.” He includes this detail in an effort to convince.

You're still apprehensive because it's against the rules to allow residents into the office, even for a brief period of time. “I don’t think I can let you in here, Francis.” You admit, a hint of guilt creeps into your expression.

"Come on," he pleads, his head tilting and his hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please, it will only be for a few minutes, (y/n).” 

His voice trembles and his eyes become gentle, almost melting you with their intensity.

"It's late, and this secret can stay between us," he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “I promise I’ll reward you for being good to me, (y/n).” It’s almost as if the use of him saying your name was a kryptonite to you. 

Every atom of your being trembles as your name escapes out of his mouths, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fine,” you reluctantly concede, succumbing to his pleading stare. “Just be quick.”

In a matter of moments, he effortlessly reveals a sly grin, his expression as stoic as ever, as he casually lowers his hands by his side. "You’re the best,” he exclaims while placing his hat back on his head and stepping back outside. 

You cautiously lean back in your chair, then rise to your feet and unlock the office door. Before proceeding, you cautiously survey your surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes are present. 

The last thing you desire is to attract unwanted attention and risk being reported for violating any regulations.

As you gently nudge the door, you lean against it, ensuring it stays ajar, eagerly anticipating Francis swift return from his truck. As time passes, you observe him effortlessly using his back to swing open the door of the building. He then pivots and starts making his way towards you.

You watch as he carefully balances two crates, one on top of the other, brimming with delicate glass milk bottles. You watch as he effortlessly carries the heavy crates into the office, his white shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms adorned with prominent veins.

You can't help but have your attention fixated on him, like an annoying, persistent fly.

"I only have two more to carry," he says, walking past you once more before vanishing outside.

You eagerly anticipate his return, and when he finally enters the building, he is drenched from the rain. You can't help but notice how his shirt is nearly transparent, allowing a glimpse of his skin underneath. 

As raindrops trickle down his face, they leave a trail of glistening droplets in their wake.

As he enters the office with the two crates, you quietly trail behind him, allowing the door to gently shut behind you. You watch as he carefully places the crates on top of each other, his gaze sweeping across the office before he straightens up.

You watch as Francis takes off his hat, his face filled with a sense of relief. I can help you carry these up to your apartment, however, in order to do so, I'll need the key to the truck," you mention, extending your hand towards him.

You find yourself captivated by his stare as he gently places the keys in your open hand. As you casually swap the truck key for the flat key, his gaze remains fixated on you.

As you turn around to face him, you find yourself taken aback as you come face to face with him, your eyes widening in surprise at his close proximity.

His towering presence looms above you, his hand poised near the switch that will lower the shutter. You find yourself struggling to control your breathing, as if your breath has been captured by an unseen force.

“Did you think I forgot about your reward?” His voice says, sending shivers down your spine while also captivating your senses.

Without uttering a single sound, he proceeds to push the switch, causing the shutters to gradually descend, leaving only you and him in the office.

"I didn't think you were serious," you mutter, struggling to articulate your thoughts.

As he takes the keys from your grasp, his touch is tender as he delicately cradles your chin with his other hand. You find yourself instinctively retreating as he moves closer, your back pressing against the edge of your desk. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded, (y/n).”

“And you’re a good girl for helping me, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He asks, gently caressing your lips with his thumb.

You fix your eyes on him, a gaze brimming with intense desire. You find yourself completely immobilised and unable to utter a single word, ensnared in a captivating spell cast by his presence.

You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you savagely as if you were animals.

In the blink of an eye, his tender caress transforms into something forceful. You watch as his hand swiftly clamps around his jaw, his eyes filled with intensity. "Say it," he demands, his voice filled with authority. 

In any other circumstance, fear might consume you, but instead, a surge of pleasure courses through your body, intensifying the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You swallow nervously before quietly admitting, "I am."

"Good," he murmurs, loosening his hold on your jaw as he draws you closer to him. Out of nowhere, he surprises you by gently placing his lips against yours, leaving you completely stunned.

You feel the warmth of his body as your hands instinctively glide up his neck, drawn to his touch. You can't help but be drawn to his kisses, even though they're sloppy. 

They are filled with a raw and intense passion that ignites something deep within you. You feel a gentle bite on your bottom lip, and a soft moan emerges from your throat as he takes the chance to slide his tongue through.

You can sense the heat coursing through your veins, which is matched only by the rapid thumping of your heart.

As he shifts back, a brief strand of saliva lingers between you both, only to be swiftly followed by another passionate kiss. You find yourself captivated by the gentle gaze in his eyes as he slowly moves his lips from yours to the tender skin of your neck.

You feel a soft nibble on your neck, followed by a gentle whisper in your ear, “Sit on the desk.”

You find yourself completely mesmerised by his every word, unable to resist his intriguing presence. You obediently follow the directions, concealing any signs of bewilderment. You settle yourself on the desk, feeling a slight breeze as your skirt lifts slightly.

You reach out to mend it, but he abruptly halts your movement. His hands gently lift yours away from your thighs, finding their place on either side of you.

You watch as he gracefully lowers himself to the ground, effortlessly sinking to his knees right in front of you.

You find yourself at a loss for words as you experience the sensation of his hands enveloping your thighs, gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

You feel the gentle touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp as you tilt your head back in response.

You feel a gentle tug on your thong, as it gracefully slides down your leg and is set aside.

You adjust your skirt higher, feeling a sudden warmth on your cheeks as you become aware of your vulnerability.

You're captivated by the intensity of his eyes, lost in the moment as he delicately positions your legs over his shoulder, drawing you nearer without disrupting the desk.

You observe him with anticipation and a heightened sense of desire as he approaches your cunt. You find yourself biting your lip, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his warm tongue playfully dances around your clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through your body.

The tip of his tongue delicately explores and teases your pussy.

Unexpectedly, he inserts two fingers into your wet hole, eliciting a chorus of pleasure-filled sounds from your lips.

You slowly glide your hand through his soft, lustrous brown hair, then firmly grasp it as he skillfully moves his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously using his tongue to pleasure your most sensitive spot.

You are consumed by an overwhelming surge of tension, which sends waves of pleasure cascading through your entire being. "Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice filled with desire, as you tightly grip his hair.

You can feel the intensity building as his tongue quickens its pace, sending waves of tension through your body. Just as the knot of anticipation reaches its peak, he eases off, gradually slowing down.

You feel a rush of pleasure as his fingers move in and out of you, perfectly synchronised with the skillful movements of his tongue. It's as if he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As if to intensify the sensation, he adds a third finger into your dripping pussy, causing you to cry out, "Francis, please!" His tongue quickens its pace once more, heightening the pleasure even more.

You sense your proximity drawing near. You can feel the heat building up inside you, your breath quickening and your toes curling in pleasure as he expertly stimulates you with his slender fingers. "I'm getting close," You struggle to utter the three simple words, your voice trembling with emotion.

Out of nowhere, he abruptly withdraws his mouth from you, yet his fingers remain inside, delving deeper and deeper.

You're hooked by the intense stare he directs towards you, his eyes filled with a mysterious allure. A blend of your fluids and his spit moistens his mouth as he slowly smirks at you.

Author's note: part 2 is pending... ಇ

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #thats not my neighbour one shot #francis mosses x reader #zekepng #smut #one shot #one shot smut

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic is a Roommate AU!

(872 words.)

James is slowly going mad.

No, not even slowly. He's fallen straight into madness, and he doesn't know how to save himself.

When Sirius asked if one of his course mates, Remus Lupin, could move in for a while, of course, he said yes. Remus had been going through something, and James is always happy to help. Not only that, but Remus is bloody brilliant. He went from being shy, fairly withdrawn, to a hilarious, witty person who James is happy to call his friend.

Sirius clearly doesn't just want to call Remus his friend.

James doesn't think he can watch the two of them practically undressing each other with their eyes at breakfast, accidentally reaching for the same thing and blushing like idiots while they apologise, or trying their hand at fucking awful flirting. It's getting painful, the clear fact that they've fallen for one another right in front of them, while they dance around it like they've never been certain of anything less in their lives.

To be perfectly honest, James is starting to wonder if he should just lock them both in a room and-

"S'fine, I don't care," Sirius' voice cuts through James' thought process as he steps out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. James looks up just in time to watch Remus following behind him hurriedly. So quickly that he almost walks directly into Sirius when he stops and turns around to face him. "I'm not carrying you through the project just because you forgot you had shit to do, though. You can do your part later."

"When have I not done my work, Sirius? Christ, at this point I thought you'd trust me. I already apologised for forgetting!"

"Mhm, and I've already said I don't care. Go have fun on your date, Remus," Sirius says back, just a hint of bitterness settling in his words. It really does sound like he cares.

Remus must be thinking the same thing, because he walks out without saying another word. Sirius immediately heads to the fridge, dropping his head against the door and letting his shoulders slump with a sigh.

"Oh, Sirius, you're a fucking idiot," Sirius groans to himself under his breath. James chuckles.

"Agreed."

"Jesus buggering Christ!" Sirius jumps a mile, practically falling into the counter as he whips his head around to face James. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough to watch that trainwreck," James answers simply. For some reason, Sirius seems to decide that it's the perfect time to play dumb.

"What d'you mean? It's fine, Remus is just..."

"Going on a date," James fills in. "With someone who isn't you. Which, by the way, is really bloody stupid of him, so at least you've got that in common."

"No, that's not- I don't..."

All James needs to do is arch an eyebrow, and Sirius' shoulders slump.

"Okay, fine, yeah. I really like him."

"No, really?" James asks sarcastically. At Sirius' unamused look, he keeps talking. "Sirius, I'm not being funny, you should see the way he looks at you when you're not looking. Or even when you are, actually. I'm surprised you haven't seen it! You should have asked him out months ago."

"God, I've really fucked it up, haven't I?" Sirius groans, scrubbing a face over his hand. "I wanted to tell him ages ago, I swear! It's just, he-" Sirius drops down into the chair opposite James, eyes fixed on his hands. "He was going through a lot, and then I was asking him if he wanted to move in before I knew what I was saying! How am I meant to tell him anything when he's living in the same flat as me? That could go so wrong, James. I could literally ruin everything!"

Okay, James is at a loss for words. That's... a lot, and Sirius is clearly stressed out. He opts for reaching across the small table and squeezing Sirius' shoulder. Before he can say anything comforting, though, a rustle comes from the door. Someone's trying to get in, and if they have a key, they're really struggling to use it.

Sirius walks over to the door with a confused frown, pulling it open to find Remus, key held out and a stunned expression on his face. James watches the two of them hesitate in front of one another for a moment.

"Remus? What-?"

Before he can say another word, Remus expression fixes to one that James can only describe as determined, before he surges forward and connects his and Sirius' lips. Sirius staggers backwards for a moment, caught by Remus hands sliding around his waist as he reaches his own up to the nape of Remus' neck.

James doesn't know whether or not he should be averting his eyes. Thankfully, they decide that for him, Remus pulling away and starting to speak hurriedly.

"I got halfway down the street and realised that I was being so fucking stupid. I really like you, Sirius. I have for so long, and I guess I thought maybe a date would help me get over it but, God, all I wanted to do was come back here and see you, so..."

Okay, so they're both idiots.

Still, by the look on Sirius' face, he has a feeling that they're finally getting their act together.

#this almost turned into a looong oneshot #it just made me so happy to write lmfao #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

[jazeswhbhaven]

the sleepover juno(ppyong)xreader(gendernu/1stpov) rating: explicit/18+ (makeout session, semi-silent sex, oral fingering, riding on top, semi-rough including biting, scratching, deep penetration, creampie/cockwarming, sneaky/semi-public)

The air is so chilly...but I can't stop now. Right?

Of course I couldn't stop, here I was sitting on the lap of a large, snow white, red-tipped haired demon with glowing crimson irises and black sclera's that bore into me as I looked down at him.

Normally, this pale face whose fangs peeked at me would be about the size of a stuffed animal with wings and a tail speaking to me in that familiar happy-go-lucky voice I knew so well.

"Hey...are you gonna stare at me all night, aye?"

His new voice ran through my eardrums and coated my senses like the feel of crushed velvet as the hair on my skin rose with anticipation.

If I told you, this was the small red lump devil that followed me around...you'd think I was lying. Nothing about the man whose bulge rubbed against my left inner thigh resembled him, not physically. His chest is exposed, each scar raised yet smooth to the touch against my fingers as I trace them. I bite my lip, trying to hold back any obvious signs of my arousal, but it's hard to ignore.

How did we get here?

That's right. I was staying a night on Earth. There was a huge phenomenon going on during the first day of April in Hell, and Satan found it necessary for Ppyong to take me to Minhyeok despite his disdain for it.

But it wasn't the friendly yet lewd little red lump that escorted me. It was "Juno" this five-foot-eleven, slim but athletic toned devil who accompanied me to Minhyeok's. He changed into this form after the strange events began to happen, and while others got more ridiculous results, Ppyong got the best possible outcome. At least for himself.

Of course, Minhyeok freaked out thinking I had brought a random new boyfriend home. After a full thirty minutes of convincing the man next to me was Ppyong, everything settled down and the rest of the night went as normal.

Right. Normal.

After a few drinks, and a couple of bad attempts of telling jokes and stories from our childhood to entertain Juno, suddenly Minhyeok felt like putting on the newest K-pop hits and dancing about the living room in a tipsy-fueled stupor.

Jubilant, the devil grabbed my hand and got me to join, and before I knew it, I was sandwiched between the two who found it appropriate to grind on me and make flirty passes at each other before a noise complaint was even made.

We were supposed to be in bed, well we were. Minhyeok, Juno, and me in the middle trying my best to close my eyes and drift off to sleep knowing that I was safe for another night. There was only one thing wrong.

I was unbelievably worked up.

The dance session from earlier had two cocks brushing up on me even with the barrier of fabric between us. Seeing how Juno caressed Minhyeok's reddened face with a teasing grin and gave him a small peck on the lips.

It was enough to make my mind swim with unclean thoughts.

But he knew. Juno wrapped his massive, toned arm around me and whispered in my ear.

Can't sleep, aye?

He knew what was happening to me, and he was encouraging it. But rather than risk waking up the other man in the room who snored peacefully, I opted to pull Juno out of bed quietly and out onto the balcony, where I sat him down on the plush outdoor chair that happened to be sat near the window of Minhyeok's room.

That's how we got here.

I don't think any further, my lips brushing against Juno's bare fangs as he grins. He keeps whispering my name, and how much he's been holding back since hours before.

"You don't know, how much I wanted you to touch me, aye. I wanted to beg, I wanted to be angry at Minhyeok for being in the way, aye."

I silence him with a kiss, my tongue daring forth in a desperate frenzy to overtake his. The soft, yet wet and tantalizing texture that greets me causes me to go wild and squeeze his chest. He moans, following it with a grunt, and thrusts forward, grinding on me once more but this time with full intent on showing how hard he was under the confinement of his pants.

I need him. I crave him. This intense feeling of sensuous desire. My lips are swollen from him sucking and keeping me close to his face, but I keep embracing his mouth so roughly I'm sure the metallic taste on my tongue is from colliding with a sharp fang.

He pulls away, short of breath but doesn't stop moving. His hips pumping steadily against me, as two of his dark painted nails slip into my mouth as he stares at me.

"Yeah...just like that, aye. Explore me with your tongue..."

I did so without complaints, swirling around the digits to taste him. Chocolate, cinnamon, and some kind of muted spice linger on his fingertips but I'm certain this may be my mind playing tricks.

I don't care. I continue to bob my head and drink him in as if his fingers are his clothed cock that I seriously wanted in my throat.

The air around us was at first cumbersome, the early spring air having me shiver and regret only coming out in a thin top and shorts. But the amount of heat generated from Juno makes it feel like a hot summer night.

I call out to Juno, trying to speak around his slender fingers to fuck me. I can no longer wait, and I feel like an animal having to plead with him like this. In Hell, this was normal to ask of, but my childhood best friend was sleeping in the room we sat right in front of. I was back home on Earth where neighbors could possibly see us and spread rumors.

Fuck it.

Juno hears me, grinning and taking out his fingers to replace them with his tongue again. Those same, spit-covered claws find their way into my shorts, coating my already slick sensitive areas with more.

I pull myself away from Juno to groan out loud before realizing the volume could nearly wake the neighborhood. The devil chuckles and kisses my jaw as his fingers keep rubbing and teasing me. Once he hits my entrance, I keen thrusting against his touch for more.

Wait...I have to touch him. I need to.

My hands fumble and reach his twitching cock, bulging so tightly against his black jeans that the seams hold for dear life. I free him, my palms getting smacked with the thick, heavy shaft that's dripping in pre-cum. "Do it...please..."

Juno pleads with bated breath, continuing to plaster small kisses and nipping at my shoulders and collarbone. I grab his cock, pumping it with a steady rhythm as he gets lost in the crook of my neck. I feel myself reaching a point of no return, I wouldn't be satisfied with just touching him...

As if reading my mind, he lifts my hips and pulls down my shorts and underwear at the same time.

"Breathe in, aye..."

I follow his instruction but gasp when I feel his leaking, swollen tip push past my hole, automatically gripping around him so that makes it difficult for him to thrust.

"Relax aye, you're too tight...ahh..."

He growls and twists his claws into my shirt. I can't help but squirm and tremble, he's so thick, and bigger than I imagined he'd be. But if I wanted more...I had to relax. I breathe in and feel my walls allow some give, the copious amount of pre-cum coating his shaft serving the purpose of allowing him to thrust upward until he bottoms out.

I bit my lip and rode against him immediately for stimulation, wrapping my arms around his neck as the sloppy sounds of our juices squelched louder than our quiet moans.

I knew it was hard for Juno to hold back, I felt his heartbeat pounding, his breath heavy, and his fingers gripped around my hips so hard I could already tell they'd leave bruises.

I had trouble myself, he felt so damn good. The danger of Minhyeok waking up and catching us was in the back of my mind, but if I were honest with myself, I'd say it made the sex that much more thrilling.

"Juno...I'm...I'm about to-"

"Aye? You wanna come for me? Be good and do it, aye..."

His voice was right next to my ear, thick with desire, his pierced tongue rolling against my neck as a throaty growl followed. It was too much, I couldn't handle how sexy he sounded just now. With one more deep thrust, he hits the exact spot I need.

My toes curl and I dig into his back with my nails. I had to bite his shoulder to not cry out as my orgasm hit me in small waves. I feel him swell inside me and he shudders as hot liquid fills me not long after. I can feel it dribble out, most likely seeping into the chair we sat on.

Fuck, how will I explain that stain later?

Juno kisses me gently on my cheek, nuzzling and grinning as if he'd won a prize. With a smile like that, I could deal with worrying about explaining who soiled the chair later. But for now, I just wanted to fall asleep...with Juno's cock still hard and deep inside my body.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb juno #whb ppyong #jwhbfics📃 #character x reader #oope will Minhyeok find out? #whb minhyeok #minors dni

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

#tiff writes #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #marvel #marvel fic #mcu #mcu fic #fame au #marvel fame au #song inspired #night shift #night shift lucy dacus #lucy dacus #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #the winter soldier #tws

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #ghost x reader #cod #ghoap x reader #ghoap #ghostsoap #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #slow burn #reader has pots #soapghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #I’m so pumped for the next chapter you have no fucking clue babes

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Eat me // Hot fudge - Matty Healy

part two

A/N: heyy y'all, this is what i've been cooking up these past few days. I hope you enjoy Waiter! Matty's incessant flirting.

content warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting

wc: 5k

Life tip number one: if you sign a lease for a new flat, and said flat happens to be in a non-smoking building, maybe don't spend your days lighting up at every possible opportunity. Seems like common sense, no? Apparently not. 

Matty scoffed when the landlord came to his door, throwing (quite factual) accusations around, telling him he knew he had been smoking in the building after specifically being told to take it outside. Now, he would have happily obliged if it wasn't the dead of winter and pissing it down almost every morning, making it impossible to step out for a quick smoke break throughout the day.

Threatening eviction, Matty simply nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand, saying he’d cut it out (and having absolutely no intention of doing so). Even so, Matty really couldn't afford to be kicked right now, with the flat being a perfect distance from his place of work, the commute consisting of three train stops and a short 5 minute walk to the front door of Roadkill. 

The face you're making right now was the same one Matty made when Ross told him “Roadkill” was the name he had chosen for his new restaurant. While it might sound disgusting and vile, the food was quite nice, so there was little room to complain. 

Since they were boys, the four of them had wanted to make music. Starting in a garage, recording emo tracks with shitty sound quality had been a hobby, which slowly morphed into a passion. Fifteen years they had been doing the same thing, trying to make it big. Hann, a legend on the guitar, had tried to get them in contact with record companies, begging for any of them to sign the band. To no avail, but that didn't stop Matty from dreaming. 

Dreaming of sold out arenas, thousands of fans singing his own lyrics back to him. Groupies following them from city to city, screaming their names. The classic rockstar cliché, drinking and smoking his way to festival headlines, having even the Times beg him for an interview slot. 

Nevertheless, those scenarios stayed in his dreams. As he grew older, the grey in his hair properly staring him in the face, Ross had decided that it was time to move on. Shitty pub gigs were not going to pay the bills forever, not that they ever really did. Mattys mother had begged him to go to uni, or at least finish his A-levels. Telling her it was all going to work itself out, he focused on his songwriting, sitting for hours, scribbling down rhymes and melodies. George was always by his side, yapping away about some music production bullshit that didn't interest him in the slightest. 

But soon enough, Matty ran out of money. Ross had taken to opening up a restaurant, the type of place Matty would be caught dead in. Glazed wooden tables, warm, orange lighting, and red leather booths and chairs adorned the space, giving it a sort of aesthetic he could only describe as “old”.

All four of them had begun working there at some point or another, refusing to leave each other. Even if it was chaotic at times, the restaurant was like their child. A symbol of what could've been if the music thing had worked out. Matty still hadn't given up on it, spending every ounce of free time dreaming up new songs and music, taking it to George the moment he’d created something “truly promising”. George had found his new passion in the kitchen, curating the entirety of Roadkill’s menu, each dish more delicious than the last.

Adam had taken to the host stand, doing what he did best, which was ordering the rest of the restaurant around. Matty was reluctant in working there at first, knowing that everyone else would think he had “finally” given up on his silly dream of being a musician. He hated being a stereotype with all his heart. 

He knew his shift started in less than half an hour, and that Adam would probably beat the shit out of him if he showed up late again, but that seemed irrelevant. 

The bathroom mirror was littered with fingerprints and dust, making it hard for him to see himself. Wiping at the glass, he’s greeted by his three day old stubble, faint grey hairs to be seen on his neck and face. Eyeing his razor, he decided that there simply wasnt enough time to shave, knowing his train was leaving in ten minutes.

His hands search for the tub of gel sitting next to his toothbrush, the bathroom counter covered in remnants of it. Slapping some onto the top of his head, he runs his fingers through it, slicking it back. Ross had told him multiple times to just chop it off, but Matty refused, telling him he’ll just look older. 

“You already look like you watch “The price is right” every evening, so there's not much more you can do.” that earned him a smack to the back of his head and an eye roll, muttering at him to fuck off and die.

Washing his hands in the sink, he inspects his clothes. Having gone out the previous evening, drinking way too much than was necessary, he had fallen asleep in his work attire. His dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, but acceptable. A small stain was visible at the bottom, but that would be covered by the ugly apron Ross forced him to wear while he worked. “Uniform” and what not.

Mumbling to himself, Matty scrambles for his keys and phone, stuffing them into his “purse”, as George so affectionately called it. It was a leather tote bag, perfectly acceptable for any modern man, not his fault his mate was still stuck in the 1950s, in terms of fashion. Grabbing his cigarettes off the front room table, he bolts to the door, slamming it behind him. 

Pacing down the street, Matty manages to fumble his light two times before finally breathing in the nicotine, effectively calming himself down. Much to his luck, the train was late, and spending the additional ten minutes in the piss smelling station just worsened his already sour mood.

Scrolling through his phone, he could hear the group of ladies next to him talking obnoxiously loud, their voices drilling a hole into his skull. 

Taking several deep breaths, as to not lash out at random strangers, Matts sighs in relief as he realizes the next stop is his. 

Pushing the doors open, Hann immediately appears at his side, yelling into his ear about being almost ten minutes late. His saving grace appears as you walk through the entrance behind him, spotting the host stand. Adam greets you with a fake smile, eyeing Matty in the corner of his eye, silently telling him to fuck off and go do his job. He smirks back at the both of you, walking towards the staff changing room. 

“Table for two?” he asks, flipping through pages of the restaurant layout. Completely unnecessary, seeing as the place was almost empty, with only a few patrons sitting down, munching away at various breakfast foods. 

“Nah, just me today.” You try to sound happy, but eating breakfast alone at a restaurant wasn't exactly how you thought you’d be spending your Saturday morning. Your mate had ditched you for her boyfriend, making up some lame excuse to stay home with him. You understood to a certain degree, but it was still a dick move leaving you stranded like that. 

“Booth?” you nod, and he leads you to a red booth towards the center of the restaurant, the dim lighting making you slightly tired, even if it was only eleven in the morning. 

It's cozy, you gather, small lamps decorating the table as you sit down, setting your phone onto the glazed wooden surface. Picking up the menu, you run your fingers over the leather cover, admiring the fancy golden lettering on the front. 

Meanwhile, Matty had already changed in the back room, and was now lounging about the kitchen, talking to George. 

“And then he threatened to kick me out, can you believe that?” Matty moves his hands around to emphasize his words, running his fingers through his hair. 

“I mean, it is a non-smoking building, innit?” He rolls his eyes, hopping off the counter as George tends to the eggs sizzling in the pan in front of him. Not even three seconds later, Ross comes bursting through the kitchen doors. 

“Healy, are you fucking serious?? Go do your job!” his voice booms through the room, scaring the shit out of Matty. Bowing his head apologetically, he makes his way past Ross and to the floor, looking around his section. It was nearly empty, with most people already having been served their food and drinks. 

His eyes land on you, scanning the menu. Fixing his slightly too big apron, he pulls out his small notepad and strolls over to you. The layout of the place is odd, and it takes a while before he finally stands in front of you, pen on paper, waiting for your order.

“What’ll it be?” His voice is rough, deep, his lack of sleep evident. Your words are caught in your throat, and you stutter before giving up completely. You weren't expecting him to come that fast, and he had taken you slightly by surprise.

“I- uh- i'm not sure?” You know you sound pathetic, and his facial expression doesn't help curb your anxiety. Setting the menu down, your hands clasp together as you stare at him, not sure what to say next. 

Matty finds your reaction endearing, his eyes softening slightly as they meet yours. The height difference was intimidating, with him towering over you as you sat. 

“Well, darling, seeing as it is..” he glances at his wristwatch “about 11am, i’d use my genius food-recommending skills to suggest some breakfast? What d’you fancy?” his northern accent catches you off guard, and you give him a once over, stealing a look at his name tag. Matthew, it reads, the bold silver letters standing out against his sandy button up shirt.

“What do you usually have?” The question makes Matty raise his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly. 

“I personally like the egg and bacon sandwich, but there's lots of other-” “I’ll have that then.” you cut him off, smiling sweetly, handing him your menu. He nods, taking it out of your hand, simultaneously tucking his notepad away.

“Anything to drink?” 

“A glass of merlot, please.” Now this surprises him. 

“Wine? At this hour?” he leans onto the table, eyeing you up and down. You feel judged, but refuse to let it show. 

“You look like the last person who should be lecturing me about my drinking habits, I can recognise a hangover when I see one.” you shoot back. Matty presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. 

“That's not very polite, is it?” he says, his voice tinged with something you can't recognise. A beat passes between the two of you, the silence full of tension.

“Are you sure you want me to be polite?” 

Matty’s look of surprise is horribly hidden beneath a sly grin as he turns on his heel, giving you one last look over his shoulder. You watch him leave, your heart pounding in your chest. What the fuck was that? 

His breaths are shallow as he puts in your order, shouting at George to make it quickly. Grabbing a silver platter from behind the bar, he pours you your glass of wine, measuring it out perfectly. Setting it onto the surface, he walks back over rather slowly, giving himself time to collect his thoughts. 

“Here you are, your food will be out shortly.” you twirl the glass between your fingers before taking a small sip, your eyes never leaving Mattys. The liquid sloshes down your throat, and you hum in approval, nodding at him. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He holds the platter in front of him, sort of like a shield. You give him another once over, before speaking. 

“That's alright.” you pause “Thank you, Matthew.” your use of his first name makes his breath hitch in his throat. 

“Only my mother calls me Matthew.” his nails scratch at the metal in his hands. “Please, call me Matty.” 

“Matty.” you repeat, taking another sip. Your phone buzzes on the table, an incoming call flashing across the screen. Matty takes that as his cue to leave. Making his way to other tables, asking if they needed refills or the check. 

You talk on the phone for a bit, quickly ending the call in favor of watching your waiter walk around the room, charming quests and handing out drinks. His features mesmerize you, and your eyes dont leave his frame until he steps back into the kitchen, disappearing from your view. 

“Is table twelves order done yet? It's been ages.” Matty’s voice is tinged with annoyance, watching George plate the food. 

“Oh fuck off, its been exactly ten minutes.” he grumbles, handing Matty the dish. 

“Be quiet, or i'll tell Ross you keep making yourself food for free.” he threatens, grinning at the blonde man. 

“You won't, because that would force me to reveal the reason behind the missing liquor bottles, and we would want that.” 

Matty rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath before walking away.

The restaurant was steadily filling with more guests, with servers racing around the room, Adam looking positively stressed at the host stand. The lunch rush had officially begun. Businessmen and women sat down at tables, ordering steaks and burgers, getting annoyed when their food didn’t materialize in front of them within five minutes.   

Matty hated the lunch rush, deeming it absolute hell on earth. Walking to your table, he almost drops your sandwich when another server, Jamie, bumps into him, balancing at least three platters in his arms. 

“Sorry mate.” he mutters, rushing towards a table filled with what looked like accountants. 

“Here's your food darling, sorry it took so long,” Mattys voice is sickly sweet, his grin never leaving his face. You smile, brushing imaginary dust off of yourself before taking a bite. Trying to keep his composure, he watches as your teeth sink into the sandwich, a content moan leaving your lips. 

Your little noise makes Matty swallow wrong, sending him into a nasty coughing fit. Keeping calm, he asks you what you think of the food. 

“Well, I can see why it's your favorite, it's really good.” egg yolk runs down the side of your face, and you quickly wipe it off, looking back up at Matty. “Give my compliments to the chef.” A snort escapes his mouth before he can stop it. 

“Chef? That's just my mate George back there.” he gestures to the kitchen, giggling at the implication that there was an actual, qualified cook in there.

“Tell him then, I'm sure he doesn't get appreciated enough.”

“I'll let you know I appreciate him enough, thank you very much.” 

His attention is pulled away by Ross shouting at him from behind the bar, telling him to get to his other tables. Your expression changes slightly, almost sad to see him go. 

“Sorry love, duty calls.” Matty shrugs, his hand running through his hair once again, trying to keep in place. You nod, watching him leave. 

The food is delicious, gone in less than ten minutes. Another server asks you if you want another glass of wine, and you gladly accept. Sipping and scrolling on your phone, you seem to lose track of time. People clear out, going back to their day jobs. The restaurant is emptier, the loud atmosphere finally dying down. You feel like you can think again. 

Looking around to try and spot Matty, you're greeted by him already walking towards you, a plate of something in his hands. 

—-----------------------------------------------

“Hey mate, make me a thing of fudge, will you?” Matty asks, seeing George wasn't all that busy. George was the head chef, making most dishes, leaving only simple things like salads and soups to the others. He had made the menu after all, so who better to cook the food than him?

“Sure, who’s it for?” 

“Table twelve.” George's eyes scan the meal tickets, not seeing the order. Matty hops back up onto the counter, watching George closely. 

“I don't see the order, did you forget to ring in again?” he accuses. Matty pretends to be offended, but even he knows the accusation doesn’t come without reason.

He had a habit of simply forgetting to put in orders, which always ended in him begging George to make it quickly so he wouldn't get his ass handed to him by the customer waiting 30 minutes for a simple soup. 

“Nah, now stop being a twat and make it.” Matty spits, avoiding eye contact. 

“Not until you tell me why.” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at the server expectantly. 

“It's for a girl, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Jesus christ." 

Now, this was definitely not the answer George was expecting from him, a small, involuntary giggle escaping him. 

“A girl? Are you taking the piss?”

Matty punches his arm, silently telling him to shut the fuck up and just make it. George doesn't stop smiling condescendingly, making a show out of drawing a small heart on top of the fudge. 

“Here, for your girl.” he grins, handing it to him. Grabbing it out of George's hands rather violently, Matty curses at him.

“She's not my girl.” his words sound insincere, not going unnoticed by George. 

—---------------------------------------------

Matty sets the plate onto your table, scooping up the other dishes and putting them onto his platter. He grins at you as you see the heart. 

“I didnt-” “I know.” he predicts your words, cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“So why-” he nudges your foot, and your breath hitches slightly. 

“Consider it a gift, I hope you like it.” His voice is low, gravely. His eyes pierce yours as he watches you take a bite, the fudge melting in your mouth. You let out a moan around the spoon, this time purposefully looking at him for a reaction. His lips part slightly as he watches you swallow. 

“It's delicious.” you say, eyeing him up and down. “Please, do tell George his cooking is phenomenal.” The mention of another man's name makes Matty’s hands shift beneath the platter. You notice, smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes. 

“Thank you Matty, you really didn't have to.” His expression softens, and he shakes his head, indicating that it was, in fact, his pleasure. Comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the cozy lighting of the restaurant illuminating his face perfectly. You admire him, memorizing every single discernable feature of his face. 

You notice his shirt has the first few buttons undone, revealing a trace of a tattoo. The faded ink catches your eye, and you can't help but stare. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His words snap you out of your daze, and you can feel a deep blush spread onto your face. 

“You have tattoos.” you sound like a complete idiot saying it like that. Cringing inwardly, Matty’s laughter fills your ears, making you inevitably smile. 

“I have a bunch.” he states, rolling up his sleeve to reveal multiple pieces littering his forearm.

“You’ll have to show me then sometime.” your boldness surprises him, and he takes a step towards you. You turn back to your dessert, filling your mouth with another spoonful of warm fudge. 

The tension is now so thick, you could cut through it with a knife. He continues standing there, platter in hand, not moving. 

“You want the check?” he asks, making a writing motion with his left hand. The dishes almost fall off of the platter in his hand, but he manages to straighten himself just in time. You giggle at the almost accident, hiding your mouth behind your hand. 

“C’mon, dont hide that pretty smile from me.” You blush, eyes avoiding his.

“Just give me the check.” your voice is slightly shaky, and you cringe again, trying to regain your composure. What the actual fuck was wrong with you?

“Be right back darling, enjoy your dessert.” His casual use of the pet name made you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as he walked away. His hips swayed as he made his way toward the back, bringing the dirty dishes away. 

Though he seemed unaffected, his demeanor changed the moment he was out of your line of sight.

Leaning against the wall of the walk-in fridge, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The way you flirted back at him made his head spin, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Most of the time, he flirted out of boredom, or better tips. This was different. 

The reactions he got were almost always the same. A giggle, and maybe some dry conversation, and the inevitable ask for his number. He never said yes, wanting to keep the interaction strictly within the perimeter of the restaurant. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if you had asked for his number, he wouldn't have said no. This made him feel slightly uneasy, like he wasn't in control. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, just like you had not done ten seconds earlier, he went to get the check from the register.

George winked at him as he walked by, gesturing to you, still sitting at the same table after almost three hours. He hadn't realized how much time had passed, an hour seeming like only a few minutes when talking to you. Shaking it off, he checks over other tables before finally returning to give you your bill. 

“You really didn't have to pay for my dessert.” you mumble, taking the piece of paper out of his hand. When you do, your fingers brush against each other, and you can feel your heart race in your chest.  

His eyes stare at you from above, and you raise your eyebrows, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. Realizing you didn't have a pen, you spot one in the pocket of Matty’s apron. Without thinking, you reach out to grab it, your hand lightly grazing his front. You swear you see his hips twitch, but convince yourself it was only a figment of your imagination.

Your handwriting is messy, the pen scratching loudly against the paper. The total came to £23, and you smile to yourself as you round up to forty, leaving him a nice tip. His eyes widen as he reads it, trying to protest. 

“You don't have-” 

“Just let me spoil you a bit, yeah?” 

Your voice drips like honey as you swat his hand away. Matty huffs, reluctantly letting you hand him your card with a huge grin on your face. 

This time, he deliberately lets your hands touch, lingering for a few seconds too long before pulling away, turning to walk towards the till located at the back. 

He opens the leather check booklet, eyes raking over the paper. His breath hitches as he notices a heart scrawled next to the total. Of course you’d do that.

Reaching for your card, he flips it over, searching for your name. His heart sinks when his eyes land on two initials. No name. 

Charging the card, he lets the receipt print. It takes ages, and he makes a mental note to remind Ross to invest in some decent equipment. It's not like he didn't have the funds, he just loved making Matty’s life difficult.

The walk back to your table seems endless, narrowly avoiding bumping into Jamie again. Setting the booklet with your card onto the table, he thanks you again for the tip, his hands playing with the inside of his pockets. 

“Did you find everything alright?” he asks the mandatory question, unable to stop the grin that spreads onto his face as you tell him everything was absolutely terrible, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I'm only joking, I loved it. Tell the owner I like the aesthetic of the place.” Matty sighs, voicing his hatred for the dim lighting and glazed wood of the tables. 

“I think it's quite nice, even if the name is a bit crude.” He laughs.

“That's what I told Ross when he opened the place, but he insisted on naming it that for some reason.” His hands move erratically as he tells you the story of him and Ross, how he had been so kind to give him a job when he was unable to hold down anything else. 

“It seems like the whole restaurant is some sort of big friend group, innit?” you question.

“Sort of, we’re all mates here. Known each other since we were about fourteen.” he says proudly. 

“Adam’s the one who sat you earlier, he's the responsible one. Keeps our books too. We all call him Hann though, don't think he responds to Adam anymore.” he giggles, turning to face the bar. 

“Ross is our owner and resident dickhead. He bartends sometimes when he’s too cheap to pay an actual bartender.” you watch him make a drink for a disgruntled looking business man. “We all hope and pray ALE doesn't raid the place.”  

He goes on about the servers: Jamie, Polly, and John. 

“Again, no one really calls him John, his name’s Waughy to ‘most everyone.” 

At some point, Matty had sat down across from you, and you hung on his every word. His voice made you feel entranced, the thick northern accent only pulling you in further. He talked about the fact that he was an actual trained bartender, and you make him promise to show you his skills at some point. 

“So, what do you drink? Besides wine, of course.” he asks, leaning his head against his fist.

“You're gonna be disappointed.” you mumble, his smirk making butterflies flutter in your stomach. He raises his eyebrows, assuring you it can't possibly be that bad. 

“Go on, tell me.” you take a deep breath. 

“Aperol spritz.” the words hang in the air for a second before Matty bursts out laughing. You shoot him a look, and he collects himself before speaking. 

“You just ordered wine at 11am, acting all mysterious, and you’re telling me your drink of choice is fucking Aperol Spritz?”  

“Oh yeah? Don't act all high and mighty just because you probably drink fucking whiskey or some other “classy” shit.” you spit back, leaning against the leather of the booth. 

“Oops, caught me.” he laughs again, childlike giggles escaping his lips. 

“Shut up.” you mumble as you finish your third glass of wine, Matty insisting on giving it to you on the house. Giddy and slightly day-drunk, you realize you had been sitting there for nearly four hours. 

“Jesus, I better get going.” you see Matty deflate, his shoulders visibly dropping. He gets up, taking your wine glass with him as he stands next to you, looking down. 

“You never did tell me your name.” His voice is small, almost timid. 

You shrug, giving him a once over before getting up. Even standing up completely straight, he towers over you, the top of your head only reaching his jaw. Craning your neck upwards, you take a small step back. 

“I guess i'll just have to tell you next time, won't I?” 

The implication makes Matty’s heart skip a beat. His hands wrap around the glass he's holding, gripping it tightly. 

“Next time?” he asks. You nod, turning to walk away. Every fiber of his being wants him to call after you, to somehow get you to stay a bit longer. He knew it wasn't possible, and watching you go was almost painful. His eyes followed the sway of your hips until you disappeared from his line of sight. 

“‘Till next time.” he mumbles under his breath, turning to the host stand, being met with more guests being sat by Adam. His section was slowly filling up again, and he got to work, taking drink orders and flirting with older women for better tips. The day continued as normal, but one thought just wouldn't leave him alone. The thought of a next time with you.

Next time.

#new series alert ooooohh #please like it #Waiter! Matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #the 1975 #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #the 1975 smut #bfiafl #noacf #iliwys #abiior #shut up lena

[disgraceful-writings]

Love, Peace, and War

[requested : @immyowndefender]

“Will you do one where reader lives and shoves both Alys and Aemond into a burning pyre along with the rest of kingslanding or at least one where she makes Aemond her bitch?”

Whispers of another woman keeping his bed warm have swarmed y/n since he left for Harrenhal. He had supposedly missed her, she now believes it to be simply guilt, coming home despite orders from his king and making love to her until the early morn. Something had seemed off that night, and she wanted to question it, but she was simply happy to have her love back in her arms. However, now he seems to only be trouble. Both of their sons lie dead and wrapped in the finest cloth on a pyre. Vhagar rumbled from her perch, seemingly annoyed. Y/n took one last look at her boys and looked Aemond in the eye with a depressed rage. He only looked at her with remorse. For their sons? For possibly ruining her by sleeping with another woman? She didn’t know, nor did she care.

“Dracarys”, he spoke loudly to Vhagar. Warmth kissed y/n’s cheeks, almost drying her tear stains. “Goodbye my little dragons, protect each other, my strong boys”, she whispered. Y/n turned and walked to her horse, not acknowledging Aemond or his family. When they traveled back to King’s Landing, y/n rushed to her chambers with her maids in tow. “Lyliana, fetch some wine. I’d also like a bath.” Both girls got to work, Lyliana fetching the wine and Alessandra starting to warm some water. Y/n glanced to her bed and saw a plush toy shaped like a dragon sitting next to her pillows. She can’t cry anymore, she’d lost all of her tears. “Shall I help you undress, your grace?”, Lyliana asked softly, knowingly. 

Y/n nodded and proceeded to be undressed with delicacy. Sitting in her shift, both girls started to braid her hair and wrap it like a crown to not get it wet. Y/n asked, “Do you think they’re alright?” The girls glanced between one another, Lyliana answered, “They have each other, your grace, that is all we could hope for.” Y/n nodded and stood. The water was warm, something she needed after a while. Her muscles had been tense after what she’d been through. “I will fetch more oils, your grace”, Lyliana spoke after looking at the selection. Alessandra spoke quietly, “I lost my boy in the fall”, she paused her words and focused on scrubbing the dried blood missed from under the princess’s fingernails. “What did he look like?”, y/n asked. “He had these big brown eyes that were so curious of what was happening around him. He barely stayed asleep, I believe he thought he would miss something”, she smiled with a small laugh, “His hair was black like his father’s and thick. He had this freckle under his chin too. My mother always told me freckles were angel kisses.” Y/n and Alessandra sat in a comfortable silence, only the water could be heard. 

Lyliana returned with the oils and assisted in finishing the princess’s bath. When she had emerged from the water, there was a knock at the door. Lyliana answered the door only through a crack, as y/n was in a state of undress still. “Prince Aemond”, she bowed, “Your wife isn’t dressed yet and doesn’t wish for any visitors.” Aemond didn’t listen and entered the room, “Y/n.” “Ladies, you may go for the night”, y/n released the girls, having now been dressed in her nightclothes. She looked at Aemond standing in the middle of the room. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I am the reason our sons are gone. I just- I can’t have you not speaking or even looking at me anymore.”

She poured herself some wine and sat in a chair, “That is what we are doing now, isn’t it?”

Aemond got on his knees at her feet and placed his arms around the small of her back, “Y/n please, you do not have to forgive me, but please don’t do this.” He buried his face into her thighs.

Y/n looked at her cup, not once acknowledging his proximity, “How’s Alys?”

Aemond raised his head, “What?”

“The girl from Harrenhal. What did they say she was? Some wet nurse to her brother?”

“How did yo-”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for bastards. Thought you always hated them, especially if their roots were from Harrenhal”, she paused for a drink, “Was she your spoil from war?”

Aemond brought his head up to look y/n in the eyes, “Tell me, Aemond, was she any good?”

He stood up now, stumbling over his words like a child caught. “Well?”

“No, she never could compare. I was so alone and lost, I-I lost myself to weakness. Please, my love, I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did.” A knock could be heard through the thick air, “Come in.”

A man who looked very much like the prince without the Targaryen features entered the room, “Your grace”, he bowed, “Your spoils.” A bag was handed to the princess, glancing inside she was hit with the stench of death. “You may go, Alfred.”

With her back to Aemond she stated, “A parting gift for you”, she turns and hands him the bag. “I will be going home for my brother’s coronation. I won’t be back.” She walks out of the room to the maester’s. Aemond slowly opened the bag and found Alys River’s head inside, devoid of color. He threw it, landing on a dresser, and poured himself some wine. His movement erratic, he didn’t know what to do, so he drank and went to the training yard to get his frustrations out. Y/n had traveled to Dragonstone before returning home. She spoke with Rhaenyra of how she was the true queen, and the world was lied to for a selfish man’s gain. How Delbore would support her claim if called upon. Then they spoke, not as queen and princess, enemies, or friends. They spoke of their sons, what she would do when she goes back home, and revenge.

Before she boarded the boat, she turned to Daemon and Rhaenyra, “Kill him. Make it painful.” She looked into Daemon’s eyes, and he nodded to her. She smiled softly and set sail for home, for peace. Her kingdom was never called upon. 

The Targaryen’s had seemingly forgotten of the princess. Until one day, she sat in the gardens with her sister-in-law and queen of Delbore having tea. “Princess y/n, a letter has come for you”, a servant girl spoke like a mouse. “Thank you, dear”, y/n dismissed her. She noticed the black Targaryen seal on the scroll and took a deep breath. The queen placed a hand over hers and smiled gently. The words she had hoped to hear for months, almost a year now. Aemond is dead. In black ink, the details of how he had received his dues. Daemon had sacrificed his life in killing the prince, leaving him with a sword through his eye. Time went on and Targaryens died like flies. Y/n, however, flourished on Delbore Isle. She took another husband. A sturdy but soft man who loved her truly. He never left her side, even during the birth of their daughter. Y/n had finally found peace.

Taglist : @watercolorskyy

Masterlist

#aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond x reader #aemond x you #Aemond smut #Aemond brainrot #Aemond targaryen brainrot #aemond targaryen fanfic #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince regent aemond targaryen #prince aemond targeryen fanfic #aemond x y/n #the one eyed prince

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₐₜₜₑₙₜᵢₒₙ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʀᴀɴᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴜʙᴜꜱ/ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: slight SMUT?, Mentions of murder/homicides, reader is a narcissists and delulu (delusional af), mentions of promiscuity, talks about sex, reader is self absorb, age gap (reader is early 20s and Jonathan is in his early 30s), toxic behavior, reader is a bit needy, making out, titty grabbing and groping.

A/N: I wanted to write something, based on Jennifer Check from Jennifer's Body.

Masterlist

All that you regretted was not being careful enough, you had been caught. And out of all night, it just had to be prom night, you hated being seen the way that you did. Your dress all wet with blood, your hair was also wet and your makeup was a mess. When you saw the pictures on the news paper, you nearly lost it. All you wanted to do was scream by how bad you looked that night. The only good thing was that you looked hot in the orange jumpsuit given to you, the whole trial you were busy trying to look good and pretty for the cameras. You'd even smile and wave as if you were some kind of celebrity who just won an award and was loved by many. You weren't, but you loved to think that you did.

You were going to be an Arkham for a while, well until you were stable enough to go back out into the real world. You hated your stay. They didn't give you any kind of skincare or makeup that you could use. The only thing that was good was that you had your own room. Except that room looked like shit. You hated it, but it was better than dealing with a lunatic. Most days you'd be rotting in bed or looking at yourself in the small plastic mirror. Trying to make yourself look decent of some kind. You hated not having skincare of your makeup. One morning you had woken up, then discovered that you had a pimple on your cheek. You threw a fit, you screamed and even fought with the security guards because of your silly little outburst.

You didn't even know if you'd be able to stand being in Arkham for long. It's already been two whole years and you still haven't adjusted to that place for lunatics. You wanted to get out, but you couldn't. You couldn't bride anyone with smiles, eyelash flutters or even a kiss on the cheek. Nope, it would be much harder then you thought. When it came to doctors, you tried to bride them with a wink here or a complement there. But no, they'd get fed up with you and leave to tend to someone else. It frustrated you so much. One because those tricks would normally work on anyone. Mainly those dumb high school boys who really wanted attention from a hot girl. Except, you weren't in high school anymore. You were a whole adult and so was everyone in the nut house.

That morning you simply laid in bed, staring endlessly at the ceiling while chewing on a piece of your hair. You were bored, not only that but you felt as if your skin was dry and flaky. You were having a bad morning, all you wanted to do was lay in bed and simply rot. While you continued mindlessly staring at the ceiling, you heard your door open. Sitting up, you saw that it was one of the guards. Great, another doctor. Hopefully this one is easy to crack.

You got up, then followed the guard into the room where you were left alone with the doctor. They told you to sit down and wait, as you waited. You couldn't help but bitch and whine to yourself about looking like crap. "Ugh, if I could at least have my gold hoop earrings." You whined, while throwing your head back as you slumped onto the chair. After a few minutes. You heard the door open, you didn't brother looking over until you saw a man standing in front of you. "You must be miss L/N." He said, his voice sounded, soothing and almost relaxed. Looking up, you saw who this new doctor was.

You were taken by surprise due to how cute he was. He looked no older than late twenties or early thirties maybe. He has brown hair, pale skin, peachy plumped lips and those eyes. God, those eyes were the most beautiful thing ever, almost as beautiful as you. He looked just like those boy magazines that you'd often stare at and have day dreams about bring with those boys. "And who am I pleasured to meet?" You asked, while sitting up straight, even fixed your hair a bit. "I'm Jonathan Crane, but you can call me Doctor Crane." he responded, with a neutral look and voice. You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip and ogle at him, like a teenage girl, that you still wished you were.

"Do you know why am here?" Jonathan asked, while studying your body language. Seen how you must have been smitten by him. It was an obvious observation. "Because you wanted to see the one and only, Y/n L/n?" You teased, while you giggle. All he did was look at you, seen how you were just being a tease. "Just kidding, you came to see what was wrong with me, but don't worry. There's nothing wrong with me, but I'll let you check me up." You said, with a smile and wink. Jonathan just sighed, he almost couldn't believe how shameless you were. "So, your file says that you have been convicted of a few homicides involving boys." He explained, reminding you on why you were here in the first place.

"That was a long time ago, it doesn't even matter anymore." You said, almost getting annoyed but kept your composure. "Tell me about yourself, you must be interesting." You said, while leaning against the table a bit, giving him somewhat of a view of your chest. You were glad that the orange shirt of your prison jumpsuit was somewhat big enough to give a peak at your chest. "How about, we talk about you instead. I'm here to talk to you and about you." Jonathan said, making you blush like a school girl. Were you dreaming or something? "About me? What of me?" You asked him, while looking at him. Admiring how handsome he was. How well put together he is. You just wanted to run your fingers through his hair, maybe even take his glasses and try them on just for shits and giggle. You felt as if you had fallen in love with him on the spot.

"Dunno, I'll let you decide." He said, god he was such a gentleman. "I don't know..." you said, not sure what to say or do, but then you got an idea. You quickly changed your demeaner, you went from being flirtatious to a bit sad. "It's just, been so lonely." You moaned, almost seductively. But he didn't budge. "How so?" He asked, while studying your body language. "You know, no big, strong, handsome man to protect me." You said, while looking at him directly in his eyes. You had a small pout on your lips. Trying to seem and sound as innocent and seductive as possible. "I'm sure security is doing that." He said, damn it! He wasn't falling for it.

You sighed, but kept up your act. "I know, but... You know what I mean. I want someone to love and protect me. You know, how a husband protects his wife?" You asked him, while moving both your arms on both sides of your breasts and slightly pushed them together. Making them more visible for him to see. But you noticed how he wasn't even trying to look at your chest. He just looked at your face. Then you thought of something, slowly. You scooted a bit closer to the table, then your right arm reached over and held it out for his hand to take. "Can you lend me a hand?" You asked sweetly while tilting your head to the side. Jonathan hesitated, but he reached out and allowed you to get a hold of his hand.

You took his hand and slowly guided it towards your chest, but you placed his hand on where your heart was. His huge palm could feel the plushy and softness of your breast. You somewhat wished that he'd give it a small and light squeeze. "Feel my heart Doctor Crane... I think it's broken." You nearly said in a whisper. Seductively. Even with his hand on your breast he didn't seem to budge, he just looked at your face and nothing else. After some time, he removed his hand off your breast and checked the time on his watch. "Well, our time is up." That's all he said, you felt disappointed. You weren't used to that kind rejection, your previous doctors would of cummed right in their pants, him? He was going to be a challenge and you weren't going to give up easily.

Almost a whole month has passed and still, nothing. Doctor Crane was a hard nut to crack. Not only that, but your so called supernatural powers didn't show up. To this day, you still aren't really able to explain how you got them. Ever since that night that you had been killed by those guys who claimed to be a band, you've been behaving and acting strange. Were your powers weak? Or did they go away? The reason why you were powerful a two years back, was because you fed off the attention you were given by everyone, specially the boys. In here, anyone barely even looked at you. It made you feel weak and drained. Maybe that's what it was, the lack of attention is what's making you feel that way. You hated it.

The only one who fed you attention was Doctor Crane, after your sessions. You'd have that energy, you felt much fresher than before. That's what made you love him even more. Despite his coldness, he gave you that energy that you so needed. Your previous doctors didn't do that, since they only see you once and after you played your little game they'd leave because they couldn't stand you. Ever since Doctor Crane into your life, you couldn't help but fall for him. Was it really love? You weren't so sure or bothered trying to find an answer to your question. You just loved how he'd give you attention, even if it'd irritate the hell out of him. He stayed. Probably to study you some more, but you didn't mind being studied by him. As long as he feeds you the attention you've craved for the last two years, you didn't care.

That day, you didn't see the doctor. Since he was other stuff to do. It'd been a whole week since you've seen him. He'd come every day, until now. He just hasn't showed up at all. It made you sad and made you feel even more tired and drained. His attention was something that you've got addicted too. You wanted it, you had to have it. But you couldn't, it wouldn't be easy. You felt your skin get flaky and dry, like a snake's. You began to see that you were getting dark circles under eyes. Because of how tired you've got. God, you missed him so much. You've began to have dreams of you and him, married, living together. You didn't understand why, you didn't have dreams of that sort, ever.

It was already late at night, you laid in bed. Alone in the dark, still feeling like shit. You were laying on your side, facing the wall. Thinking about Doctor Jonathan Crane. You simply stared at the wall, seen how you had managed to engrave his name onto that old concrete wall. Since the day he didn't show up, was when you craved his name into the wall. Just so that you could stare and look at the name, sometimes even caress it as if it was the most delicate thing. Eventually you closed your eyes, trying to maybe get some sleep, and dream about him.

But your eyes quickly shot open when you heard the door of your room open. You quickly sat up and turned around to see who or what it was. It was somewhat dark, but the small window of your cell allowed you to see who it was. It was him, Jonathan. He stood there looking back at you for a whole minute. You didn't even notice him closing the door, your name focus was him. "Jonathan?" You said, almost in disbelief. "The one and only." He said, his voice made your chest rise and your heartbeat go over the roof. Not only that, but you also felt how your skin began to feel fresh, as if cold water had been splashed onto your dry skin. Making it feel refreshed.

"Oh Johnny." You said, quickly getting up from your bed and ran up to him. He wasn't far away from you, since your room was small. Almost as small as your old walk in closet. Once you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Hugging him tightly. "I missed you, so much." You said, while hugging him. You couldn't help but get a whiff of his washed clothed mixed with his cologne. You missed that scent, his scent. You felt how he too wrapped one arm around your waist and petted your hair. "I know you did." He said, neutrally, but it sounded sweet to you. He was sweet to you in his way. You didn't want to let go or him to let you go. You wanted to be in his arms forever until you both die and rot.

Then he slowly pulled away from you, looking down at your face. But you kept your arms around his waist, so that he couldn't go just yet or even attempted to leave. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to see you." Jonathan said, while gently caressing your cheek. Making you purr and close your eyes by the touch of his hand on your now fresh and bright skin. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me here alone?" you asked, almost desperate to know his reasons why you disappeared for a whole week. "I had other things to tend to." He said, while looking at you. Seen how week and vulnerable you were at the moment. "Doesn't matter anymore, at least you came here. To see me." You said, with a small smile on your lips. Happy to be this close to him. This was the first time you've ever been this close to him.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked, almost timidly, but you just had to ask him. "Of course, what is it?" He asked, while looking at you. His eyes, damn those eyes. They made your legs shake and nearly go week. "Could I kiss you?" you asked, while beginning to breath heavily. All of a sudden you got, you felt your skin heat up and needed to remove some clothes just to calm the heat down. Jonathan smiled at you. Sweetly, but that sweetness had a small hint of sinisterism. "Of course you can." He said, without hesitating. You smashed your lips against his.

Jonathan let out a small grunt as soon as your lips touched his. Your arms snaked around his neck, desperately trying to get him to be closer to you than he already was. Jonathan held you close to him as well. The kiss got slightly violent and more sloppy. Both your tongued wrestled one another's, followed by teeth clanking against one another and your lips pressed against his. You needed that, you wanted that. Jonathan's hands grabbed at your ass, giving it a squeeze every now and then, as a way of getting you either railed up or just flat out tease you. Soon after, you felt his hand get a hold of one of your breasts. Causing you to moan against his mouth.

His palm caress and gripped onto your breast, slightly pinching your harden nipple. "Ah!" You moaned against his mouth, feeling how your once weak body was burning with desire. You wanted more, you needed more. As soon as your hands reached down to get a hold of his belt. Jonathan stopped grabbing your breast and pull away from the sloppy kiss. "Wha-" You manage to say. You looked at him, shocked and breathless by his sudden motion. "Now now." He simply said, while he admired how worked up you were. "But-" You were quickly cut off by him. "Shh, shh." He shushed you. In which you. You could feel how his cold hand gently got a hold of your chin and cheeks, as soon as his cold skin touched the hot skin of your cheeks. You felt relaxed.

"Patience. You're not ready yet." He said, making you let out a small whine. "But I am." You whined, you sounded so needy, but you didn't care. You wanted him right there and then. "You think you're ready, but you're not. Be patient." He said said, almost in a whisper. So that only you could hear. You wanted to protest, but you didn't. You choose to listen again. You simply nodded in response. "Alright, Doctor." You said, almost in a form of a moan. Jonathan smirked at you, gently cleaning off yours and his mixed saliva off your bottom lip with his thumb. "Good girl." He praised, making you nearly fell at your knees by his words.

ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x fem reader #jonathan crane x female reader #jonathan crane x patient reader #jonathan crane x succubus reader #jonathan crane x vampire reader #jonathan crane fic #jonathan crane fics #fem reader #fem y/n #female reader #female y/n #patient reader #patient y/n #succubus reader #succubus y/n #vampire reader #vampire y/n #cereza's writing #cereza's fics #𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔷𝔞'𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 #𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔷𝔞'𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔰

[oneshotnewbie]

Carina is afraid of Reader getting hurt (she is a police officer) and maybe, just maybe, they get hurt? You don't have to if you don't want to!!

Authors note: This story has been sitting in my finished documents for about two years haha. So maybe it's not all that well written

ᕚ---ᕘ

Working undercover was exhausting, if not draining. You were aware of it both physically and mentally, yet you accepted the job. Accepted it in hope that, like every order, it would pass quickly. You had been investigating undercover in a drug gang for several weeks now. Barely exchanged a word with your wife for endless days to protect her from the cunning mastermind of the gang. Sporadically, there was a short on-minute-conversation at a phone booth here and there, but it was not enough. On both sides.

Carina was worried sick; she only got fleeting answers from your lieutenant on how you were doing. She was so concerned for your life that the brunette even fell ill and had to be hospitalized. When you found out, you wanted to break your cover and risk your life just so you could see her. But she managed to stop you, promising she would take care of herself until you were back home.

You missed everything about the cozy apartment you shared with her. The scent, your bed. Even the smell of cheese that had spread throughout the kitchen. But mostly the closeness of your girlfriend and the warmth that reached you every time you had a hard day at work. All of that you had to exchange for a cold, sparsely furnished one-room apartment outside of the city.

With each passing day it became harder to maintain the disguise. Everything got on your last nerves and ripped you apart. On the very first day, you wished that you could leave work and go back to your family but it had taken you a long time to earn the trust of the drug lord, Joaquín González, before he gave you permission to do big jobs. You were basically his second hand and knew everything about his business.

Even so, you still had to wait to snag all of his followers. At least until this evening where the cruical deal would go through. If everything went smoothly, you could go back to your old life tomorrow. Back to your family. The day passed faster than you could have imagined and it slowly started to get dark. The pink tone of the setting sun gave you a feeling of security and freedom- a feeling you had not had in a long time and made you believe that everything would turn out the way you wished for.

Slowly, you sat down on the chair you had prepared and waited out the last hours before your assignment while you looked through the small window. The landscape was swallowed up in a deep darkness, so completely dark that you felt the cold and hatefulness filling up your heart. Without the feeling, you could not think straight in the violent drug clan. This feeling had changed you, you felt it deep inside. That freezing cold surrounded you and gave you the courage to do any assignment without hesitation so you would not experience pain. But you still hoped to shed that mask once you were safe in the arms of your beloved Italian.

The mask had so often saved you from a mental collapse on missions, that you might not want to take it off as protection for further police operations and it shocked you deeply, that you even believed in wanting to keep it. After each undercover assignment, Carina was always able to give you the feeling of security, and the conscience that everything would be fine again. But you were not sure if she could still save you from what ate away your soul this time.

Of course you knew that she would do everything in her power to get your old self back- Carina had managed it all the time. The brunette would take care of you, spoil you like your life was more important than hers. This time was different. You had been separated from your old life for far too long to make up for with a few days of utmost nurturing.

A small tear, which you quickly wiped away, rolled down your face. You were not allowed to cry, you had to blame yourself for your fate and now you had to face the consequences.

ᕚ---ᕘ

"Where is she? Where is Y/n?" yelled a rough and worried voice at a nurse of the emergency room and you could immediately assign it to Carina. Frantically, she made her way to search between the occupied beds for the woman for whom she was the emergency contacts. „Deluca, calm down. She is here, I will lead you to her"

To her ears, the spoken sentence of Owen Hunt sounded like a war. Knowing the seriousness of the situation, she felt nothing but pure fear. Worries enveloped the woman and she could not imagine finding you badly injured somewhere in the emergency room and realizing that you were hovering between life and death.

The brunette swallowed hard. She missed you so much and just wanted to back healthily. Quietly, she trotted behind the head of trauma surgery, very carefully and slowly, until she came to a stop in front of a curtained bed. There, she already heard your pain-distorted grumbling while stilling in her movement.

Carina had never forgotten how your voice sounded, longed for it every single minute of the day. And now, hearing it without the hum of the phones terminating line, her heart was racing like the first time she had met you. She was only centimeters away from you, as close as she had not been for a long time. "It hurts like hell!"

"I wanted to give you a pain hemmer but you refused," she heard the soft chuckle of Miranda Bailey and a stone rolled from her heavy heart. You were not badly injured, at least not bad enough to be concerned for your life. "Now live with it"

As the brunette doctor moved the curtain with a firm grip to gain access to you, she looked down at you with glassy eyes. Your clothes and face were spattered with dirt and blood, your jeans cut down on one leg to the thigh. Her eyes widened to the bulled hole in your femur, blood still dripping slightly through the stitches already in place.

"Bella, what happened? Stai bene?" (Are you alright?) her voice trembled and was overwhelmed by choked tears. She sneaked through the narrow space between bed and curtain and knelt down next to it. Her warm hand softly cupped your cold one, that was gripping the bed sheets, and squeezed it tightly.

"The deal was overrun by my colleagues. The shooting was in full swing and some were trying to escape. I wanted to help another police officer and I caught a ricochet myself. It is half as bad, it was a straight through shot"

Disorted in pain, your body tensed up briefly before relaxing shortly after; abruptly pinching the hand of your wife before your eyes turned back to her. Deeply, her fawn eyes stared at you, some pitiful tears welling up from them before they closed. "For a brief moment I thought I lost you, mi amor"

Thinking lines appeared on her face and you swallowed impercepitibly. You knew her mind was working through every negative scenario she had ever saw in movies. A faint smile appeared on your face and you broke away from her before you put your hand under her chin and tenderly pulled her to you. "Carina, look at me"

The addressed opened her eyes slightly, pure was immediately recognizable. A tear rolled down the Italian´s face and she grabbed your midsection to cross the last empty space between you. "You did not lost me. I am still here"

Gentle kisses spread across her ruddy cheeks, forehead and nose; trying to catch her bitter tears. You hated when she cried. But you hated yourself even more for causing those sadness upon her. Such a great woman like Carina did not deserve to be in a constant state of fear and you were more than sorry. It broke your heart and shattered it into pieces. 

"You won't do me another mission like this. Mai più, capito?" (Never again, understand?) she said insistently. Her arms broke free from you and crossed over her crumpled pink scrubs, expertly starting to pout. "Se lo fai di nuovo, ti uccido io stesso" (If you do it again, I'll kill you personally)

That it was your last police operations for the time being, which you would do in the next few weeks, was more than clear to you. But you did not care. The most important thing you had to worry about now was your wife, whom you had neglected for weeks, and your health.

#station 19 #station 19 fanfiction #station 19 fanfic #station 19 oneshot #station 19 imagines #station 19 imagine #station 19 x reader #station 19 x you #station 19 x female reader #station 19 abc #carina deluca #carina deluca fanfiction #carina deluca fanfic #carina deluca oneshot #carina deluca imagine #carina deluca imagines #carina deluca x reader #carina deluca x you #carina deluca x female reader #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #imagines #imagine #writeblr #writing community #writer stuff #writers on tumblr

[loveheartarthur]

hi, first of all, your writing is MAGNIFICENT and so sweet! Could you write a scenario where young!Arthur and a young!reader do the first robbery together? Or she has a flashback of this memory while she is riding accompanied by Arthur!

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒔 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒏!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! gn!reader . reader loves annoying arthur . siblings robbing a homestead . arthur's that protective older brother . reader almost gets caught . based in 1883 . used red dead wiki so info might be wrong

first impressions can be strange. real strange.

the first time u met arthur, he was sitting in the saloon by himself, drinking some bourbon. u were staring at him, making the grand idea to steal from him! u were a street kid, so u always thought that u knew what u were doing, what could possibly go wrong? and yet, it did go wrong. he caught u. clearly weren't that good at stealing as u thought u were.

and now, u fit in within a small group of outlaws; u, arthur, dutch, annabelle, hosea, ms. grimshaw. luckily, u grew close with each of them but nothing could compare to the sibling bond that u and arthur share with each other.

he was always the grumpy one, u were the one to tease and rile him up quite a bit.

at the moment, ur doing ur absolutely best to convince ur brother than ur better than fine to do a robbery. alone. he always insisted that he came with but today u wanted to prove urself. to him and to the leaders of this gang.

“arthur- 'm gonna be fine! i know what 'm doin'. i can do it on my own jus' fine.” u gently protest with a roll of ur eyes. u knew he meant well but u did have a sort of experience to prove that u can fend for urself in case anything happens. he took no chance, stubborn as a mule he was. he always made u had a sort of protection, that protection that meant he's coming with u. if u like it or not. “that ain't how it works. 'm comin' with ya, y'never know what could happen when yer alone”.

he was always looking out for u. like a safe haven, since u knew that u could count on him for anything, no matter how... odd or strange. he always had the need to check up on u, making sure ur alright. he was more experienced with guns. u were better with knvies. although, he knew how to act quickly in tough situations.. u didnt, at least not yet. he was quick-thinking like that. even though arthur could be.. sarcastic and snarky, u knew he meant well. that's just how he is. ignoring his rough and rugged appearance, he was always kind to u.

“c'mon, trouble. let's get this done. wouldn't wanna get dutch upset.” he says as he begins to walk off to his horse, u got up to quickly follow him. “arth- wait up!”

okay, maybe u were glad that arthur came. if he didn't, who knows who would've help u out of this. u silly fool for almost getting caught.

u and arthur made the way up, down and around this house. getting any valuables u can find. to his dismay, arthur notices another man enter the home, presumably.. the owner of the home. he had a welcome home gift of some valuables missing. before he could react, the the owner went upstairs.

that's exactly where u were. in the master bedroom, looking around and picking up any gold expensives that caught ur sharp gaze. arthur knew immediately what he had to do.

in this present time, ur hidden behind a fancy wooden chair. arthur was looking at u from the doorway, doing his damn best to keep u calm and not let u freak out. even though, u felt ur heart racing in ur ears. ur gaze kept switching between arthur and the owner looking through his wooden drawers, noticing the missing items. u freaked out slightly everytime u heard a stern “goddamnit!” under the owner's breath.

u looked over to arthur who was thinking a small plan to get u out of there without being seen. not too long, he made a "come here" motion with his rough hand as he mouthed "slowly" as he kept his intense gaze on u. life or death situation, u listened. keeping low, u slowly made ur way over to arthur.

all of a suddenly, u took another step and the floorboards creaked. which made everyone stop, like the world stopped moving for a few moments. all that u heard was the stressful breathing of the owner. oh, u knew he was mad. who wouldn't be mad at finding out ur home is getting robbed? fortunately, the man stayed in the bedroom, which had arthur signalled u to continue ur way over to him. u took a few more quick steps and ur safe. after minutes of silence as u both made ur way out the robbery, he spoke. “now i really knew yer glad i came with ya.”

he says with a teasing chuckle which had him received a hit on the shoulder from u, he could be so- “shut up, arthur. we made it, didnt we?” u retorted back, rolling ur eyes once more as a smile creeps onto ur face. “jus' about. we mighta got nothin' if he heard ye creakin.'” he says with a shit-eating grin on his face as he gave a slight nod to ur words.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan and reader #divider credit to agsthv #arthur morgan x reader

[crowleysaziraphale2003]

Here's another fic from my AO3! I'll also be posting non-GO writing soon! :)

This one is supposed to be silly and light hearted, if ever it comes off as insensitive, let me know. For the record, I hate the prison system, please know that 🤍

The silliness and playfulness is taken from my own, two and a half years long (so far), relationship. My partner got me into Good Omens, and I will always be grateful to him for that. He's also just the best tbh and I love him so much ❤️❤️❤️

CW for swearing, neck kissing (briefly) and brief NSFW implications (nothing happens nor is implied to happen, just some suggestive flirting).

Bon appetit! 🫶

Crowley and The Mysterious Case of The Disappearing Sunglasses

It was a sunny afternoon, and a certain demon and angel were peacefully gardening together. At least, until something rather weird happened. 

It had started out with a kiss. Aziraphale hadn't joined Crowley for while, instead opting to recline leisurely in a deckchair, sipping wine and reading. He would pause every now and then, to look up and inquire about Crowley's progress with the garden. That aside, they hadn't interacted until Aziraphale had brought his baking, alongside a glass of cooling lemonade, out to him on a tray. That's when Crowley had decided that perhaps, it was time for a well-earned rest. 

Instead of sitting on the chair next to Aziraphale's, he'd decided to sit on his lap. Not that Aziraphale was complaining. Not at all, unless kissing him had counted as complaining, anyway. The thing was, just before he'd kissed him, Aziraphale had removed Crowley's sunglasses, which he'd been wearing not to shield his emotions, but his eyes, from the glaring sun. This was not an uncommon occurrence; Aziraphale frequently removed Crowley's glasses before they kissed, if Crowley didn't do so himself. 

But this time, when they'd broken apart, the glasses had been nowhere in sight. The garden was officially a crime scene-the sunglasses had disappeared under mysterious circumstances.

Aziraphale, former angel, was a key suspect in their sudden and mysterious disappearance. Given that he was of an unusual, unpredictable nature, Crowley had to resort to using a variety of investigation tactics. Tickles, first. This had only succeeded in getting them both breathless and slightly distracted. 

Time for a new tactic: holding his book hostage. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale had whined. "Give it back, now!" 

Crowley wasn't about to crack under the pressure. "Nah," he'd responded, with a cheeky grin. "Not until you tell me where the hell my sunglasses are! These are my only pair nowadays!" 

Aziraphale had raised an eyebrow at him in response. "Can't you miracle up or buy a new pair?"

"Nuh. Not allowed that many miracles since having retired, and there are no shops around here selling sunglasses.

Aziraphale frowned. "It's a tad odd that they don't sell them around here." 

Crowley stared at him as though he lacked brain cells. Which perhaps, in his own way, he did. "We're in bloody England! What do you expect!? Give me my sunglasses back!"

"Give me my book back!" Aziraphale pouted. 

"Nuh-uh!"

"I swear, Crowley-!"

"You started this!"

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "You give me no other choice," he replied, his face stoic. A sudden rain cloud appeared over Crowley's head, soaking him in seconds. Crowley gasped. 

"You bastard!" he said, throwing the book onto the porch. "Come here, you little shit!"

"Absolutely not!"

That's how they ended up chasing each other around the garden.

Ten minutes later, and they had stopped. Right. Time for yet another interrogation tactic. "Angel," Crowley purred into Aziraphale's ear, "if you give me my sunglasses back, I'm sure we can find another way to...unwind." 

Aziraphale blushed. "I know you, you wily old serpent. You're trying to tempt me to get me to give them back," he said, pausing. "It might work."  

Finally! 

Crowley sat on his lap and started to kiss Aziraphale's neck. "My angel," he murmured. "Look at you, you're gorgeous. So pretty, so good." 

The perpetrator cracked. "Fine," he admitted. His breathing was heavy, yet he didn't even need to breathe. That's how his interrogator could tell he'd got him. "Check your plants." 

Crowley fell off Aziraphale's lap. "What?!" he exclaimed. 

"Check your plants," Aziraphale repeated, smiling now like the deviant, the criminal, that he was. 

"Angel!" Crowley shouted, with no real maliciousness in his voice.

Right there, on his prized sunflower, the tallest one, sat his sunglasses. They must have been miracled on while they were kissing. The worst part of all? He hadn't even noticed. The next investigation, he decided, was going to be a murder investigation.

Aziraphale bolted indoors, Crowley hot on his trail. Oh, he would pay for this...

"No kisses for the rest of the day? Crowley, that is so unfair!"

"That's your sentence. You must serve it."

After a bit of tempting on Aziraphale's part, he was bailed out of his cruel sentence in less than an hour, with a strict warning to not do that ever again. He didn't re-offend, so Crowley decided he was reformed. Good. Couldn't be dealing with all that.

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziraphale #crowley #writers on tumblr #writing #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffable idiots #idiots in love #mlm #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen #ao3fic #ao3 writer #ao3 #a bit silly #attempt at humor #fluff #south downs cottage #romantic #domestic bliss #domestic fluff

[vuutarros]

I've been incredibly out of sorts this week...

I dislike this, I'm having to police my emotions to such a high degree 😡

And it's not just irritability, either. My emotions have been all over the place, hyper and happy and manic, next ready to snap at the slightest sound, then goofy again, before being very depressed. And on and on and on. 'Round and 'round we go, where we stop, heaven help us all.

#and there's so much noise to set me off in the office these days #I've got 3 drivers on modified duties in my office #one who's helping the Kid with pick up bookings #her customer service voice is like the receptionist from Office Space #so that's just not going to drove me up the wall #another who i have nothing for him to do #so he sits at the coffee station grunting every 5 seconds #at least when he's not arguing with people on his phone because they can't understand what he's saying in his nasally mumbling voice #dude! i know how to spell your name and even i can't get that from what saying #use the godsdamned nato phonetic alphabet saying the same easily misunderstood letter even when nicely enunciated over and over again while #getting progressively more pissed off and less intelligible doesn't work #and the third spends most of his time with his head is hands #then there's the faint sounds of F's podcasts distracting me #and the Kid bouncing his foot against the chair leg #then somebody will start scanning and somebody will use the xerox to scan a small forest of documents #and i am sitting there getting more and more overwhelmed with no way out #can't put in my earphones I'd just be pulling them out every 5 seconds to answer a phone or gate or something else #i need the number of people in my office to drop by at least one very loud asshat blocking the coffee station #he's the worst #and if i have to listen him repeatedly fail to voice dial a contact again while the phone is in his fucking hand 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

[paradoxesofgalaxies]

Ughhhh. I overdid it yesterday bc I was feeling ok and had a lot of chores to get done. And today I had to do laundry bc I was out of clothes. Normally I'd ask my husband to help me get stuff to the laundry room (a couple building a couple half flights of stairs away) but he threw out his back the other night bending down to pet a dog (a real we're getting old moment) and he can't even stand up without his cane so I just had to do it myself.

Well both my shoulders went out and something went wrong in one of my hips and lower back (I think I bumped into something. At least, it feels that way. But I don't remember much of actually doing laundry so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯). And I still need to go out to pick up meds, get laundry put away, and make dinner. I should probably put off folding laundry...

I can't wait until we move in November and I'll have a washer and dryer off of my bedroom. It will make doing laundry far less injury inducing.

#lots of pain #and it's too hot rn to use my heating pad #and I'll have to wait until my husband gets home for him to fix my shoulders which won't be until 1 am ;-; #oh! i just remembered! #before husband left for work we were sitting outside and I started to stand up to go grab something but he went to get and i sat back down #forgetting that I'd set my umbrella down in the chair and sat on the curved handle which fucked up my hip and lower back #ok at least that makes sense bow #*now #but fuck it hurts #maybe i can convince my partner to stop at the grocery store so i can grab something easier to make for dinner tonight #bc i don't think I'm going to be able to handle standing as much as i would need to for the meal currently planned #time to rest while I chat with friends #galactic gab #vent tw #bone fuckery

[eudico-my-beloved]

I fucking hate my culinary class table group soooo bad i should be allowed to hit them with carrots i think

#They made me do basically everything while they got chairs and phones wayy before they were supposed to except for the dishwasher #At least she offered to help occasionally AND did her work (tho i did steal it towards the end but i voluntarily did it so. Doesnt count) #Im literally missing like a quarter of a nail on one hand on top of the usual joint and back pains and migranes and i was sous today #But noo the executive who should be doing the most is the guy who sits on his ass the whole time and has his earbuds in all the time and #Half asses everything like. Bitch why the FUCK you in culinary if you dont wanna do shit and just eat!!!!!! #He only does things when hes forced to do them like. The fuckers were on their phones while i had to squeeze the water out of shredded #and sweated zucchinis while also trying to keep my injured finger from coming in contact with the water #and i barely got the executive to help squeeze the water for like. Less than a minute while i went to grab smth #Before he just dumped the still too wet zucchini into the mixing bowl and he just went back to sitting on his ass #Also while i was cutting the green onions and mincing he was supposed to be start mixing the batter but he just stood there and did nothing #i had to make the batter and while i was writing on the zucchinis i only then realized that after shredding the zucchini no one started the #sweating process and just left it there. And watched me mix the batter instead and i had to hurriedly dump the zucchini #And forced them to add the salt and toss it while i brought the dirty dishes to the dishwasher #And by the time we drained the zucchini and mixed it into the batter the class was halfway through and everyone else was eating and shit. #So while i fried the rest of them just watched hells kitchen #At leas the dishwasher offered to help shes a fucking godsend #And we also got them to fry the last one so. While it isnt much and it amounts to absolutely nothing we did get them to do something at lea #And dont even get me started on the state of the kitchen that we come to all the time #The previous class just leaves everything dirty and when i got the pan out all three were all greasy and sticky and gross #And the mixing bowls were yucky and encrusted in some unknown white substance #I washed them all #And i am so very fucking mad even though its been 4 hours since the class #I need to explode all of the fuckers NOW

[yanderenightmare]

Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap

AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~

fem reader

You started coming to his home office once a week. 

Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face. 

But you came around to like him soon enough. 

He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started. 

And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.

When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.

He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.

Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.

You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.

He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat. 

He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.

He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more. 

He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.

He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~” 

He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off. 

It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.

He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.

He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.

“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.

His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.

You take it in with doe eyes.

“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”

You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”

He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”

“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.

“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy. 

But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap. 

“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.” 

He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow. 

“There you go, just like that. Good.”

You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.

Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?

You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.

So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...

You'll do it.

You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.

It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.

In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.

“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.

“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”

You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”

“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”

You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly. 

He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”

You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips. 

It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.

He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.

“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.

He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.

But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.

“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.

Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking. 

“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.

Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk. 

He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.

You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.

“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees. 

His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.

He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.

You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.

“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.

“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”

But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.

“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.

You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.

“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile. 

You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.

But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.

“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.

His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.

He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt. 

“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.

Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.

The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.

You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.

You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.

There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath. 

He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing. 

It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide. 

He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you. 

It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.

Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.

He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.

You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.

“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips. 

You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.

“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.

He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.

“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum. 

He smiles.

“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”

You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.

But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.

“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”

You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”

You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”

sequel

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami x reader #yandere kento nanami #yandere kento #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #kento smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu nanami

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #batpham #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #look. this has been in my mind for so long guys so long - and idk if its canon that the batfam have codes for time travel situations or what #but i feel like ive seen it before and if its not canon it should be #so here - how i think that would be funny to go down #i have so many thoughts about TUE and its place in a dpxdc crossover like holy shit there's so many ways it can go!! #i have another wip in the works thats kinda similar to this but with superman and i cannot wait to work on it again #there are so many ways i wanted this to go but i just couldnt get there - i wanted to keep it on the shorter side but like #perhaps ill have to expand #i just love the idea that like. theres a stranger at your table who knows you and knows you well. who knows the secret that youd die to keep #there's a stranger at your table and he says something and you know he's family. you know you're strangers but now... #now you have to be something more #oh man theres so many juicy ways it can go and I KNOW I DID NONE OF THEM #i want to write this whole plot again and make it angstier #(me with everything) #anyway! sorry love you all hope you enjoy it!!