#every day i come to another realization that idk how a body part is supposed to look like .. like naturally what is considered normal averag

[okaylorrainee]

her way of water

characters. neteyam & female metkayina reader. sully family. tsireya.

synopsis. neteyam and his family left their clan to seek uturu from yours. on their first night, neteyam wanders by the shore to clear his mind. he finds himself away from everyone’s marui pods and comes across you as you bathed - he couldn’t get you out of his mind since then.

contains. aged up characters but only by a few years. timeline and some parts of the plot of the movie may be ignored. sometimes out of character.

note. hello! welcome to my first avatar ff :)! this was supposed to be a one shot, but as i wrote it, i’ve decided one part isn’t enough. sorry if any parts of the story seem weird. i still have a lot to learn about the na’vi. do they even bathe? idk. english is not my first language so please feel free to correct me if i get anything wrong! also, this may be the first avatar ff i’ve ever written and published but it might not be the last so stay tuned!

Ch 01 [ masterlist . next ]

he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. a low grunt left his lips as he sat up in frustration. he looked around and his family was in deep slumber, perhaps due to exhaustion from all of the water training they’ve done all day. he wished he could be the same, then at least he’d silence the sadness he felt from leaving his home. 

neteyam didn’t want to voice it out too much. he knew it was harder for his parents, especially for his mother whose whole life was the forest. he refused to burden the family with his emotions, so he suppressed them, like the responsible eldest son he always was.

he sighed, making his way out of their family pod. he didn’t know where he was going at this time of the night, but he just allowed his feet to keep going. wherever he’d end up, he’d just make sure to find his way back again before the sun rises. because tomorrow was another day to learn the ways of the metkayina, to be one of them. 

neteyam uttered not a single word, and nothing but the sound of waves surrounded him. the breeze accompanied him as he walked, his hair flowing with the wind that the beads braided with them collided every now and then. he found the air relaxing, that every time he inhaled he felt like his lungs were being cleansed from how fresh it was.

awa’atlu was indeed a very beautiful place, but neteyam adored his clan’s forest more.

neteyam found himself by the edge of the shore. beside him stood the palm trees that formed the forest he has yet to explore. thinking he had gone too far away from the village, neteyam was about to turn and walk back, until he heard low humming come from his left, the parallel of the village’s front. 

curious, he carefully approached and followed the sound. the humming got louder as he got closer. and soon, a figure came into view in front of him. it was a silhouette of a metkayina na’vi, waist deep within the water, staring into the vast ocean in front of her.

neteyam hadn’t felt his eyes gape at the sight of her. she was undressed, nothing but her long hair covering parts no one but only her future mate should see. her skin was wet and the freckles all around her body made her glow. this kind of scene should not be new to him, after all, he too had freckles that glowed in the dark. but for some reason, neteyam seemed to be so mesmerized by her that he found it hard to look away. only when her whispers of singing reached his ears once more did he realize that he was staring at this naked na’vi woman. he immediately turned away and hid behind a palm tree.

neteyam’s cheek burned from embarrassment. just what was he doing? but actually, what was she doing? at this time of the night while the rest of the clan was asleep, she was here apparently bathing at the opposite side of the village’s island. for someone who spends so much time in the water, this metkayina woman had the thought of washing herself in the middle of the night - neteyam found it a bit odd.

however, he stood still from his spot. he didn’t want to walk away, he was curious as to what she might be up to. this wasn’t weird, right? it’s not like he was watching her. he was simply… waiting.

a couple of minutes passed but nothing else happened. she continued doing whatever it was she was doing by the water, creating small splashing sounds here and there while humming another song different from the previous one. this whole time, neteyam was leaning on the tree, staring at the sand and doing nothing. but he had to admit, instead of being bored out of his mind, he enjoyed his time listening to her voice.

soon enough another gentle splash came from behind him, it sounded different from the ones before, indicating that she might be leaving the water. neteyam felt a sudden wave of nervousness, worried she might find him. so without looking back, he quickly ran to the direction of the village, moving carefully to not alert her of his presence.

it had been long since then. hours had passed and the sun had risen. neteyam and his siblings were once again under the care of the olo’eyktan’s children to learn about metkayina customs. today, they were polishing their riding skills with ilus.

tsireya and her brother were watching the sullys from near the shore, both mounted on their ilu companions. ao’nung spent most of the time snickering as he watched lo’ak fail over and over, and tsireya would smack him to make him stop. she flashes a gentle smile to lo’ak when he peeks to look in her direction, and he nods at her trying to appear cool before getting thrown off once more for losing focus. she giggled, lo’ak appeared very cute to her.

tsireya shifted her eyes to the others. kiri and tuk, who were accompanied by ao’nung’s friend, rotxo, seemed to be doing better than their brother. tsireya noticed how kiri appeared to be a natural at everything they have taught them so far, and she thinks it may be because of the special kind of connection kiri had with nature. but tsireya didn’t comment on it any further, she had only met them yesterday.

meanwhile, neteyam was alone on the far right of the group. tsireya noted how neteyam was quick to adapt and learn, and that it wasn’t difficult to teach him. compared to his brother, neteyam took things slow at first and it made him grasp the idea of riding the ilus easily. 

tsireya hadn’t missed how distracted neteyam looked today. he was paused above the water, staring at it in deep thought as he held his ilu in place. tsireya wondered if something was wrong, so she motioned her ilu to swim to neteyam’s direction.

“hey, neteyam.” she said to catch his attention.

the said man lightly jolted before turning to her. “oh, tsireya, hey.”

her brows furrowed in worry. “is everything alright, neteyam? it seems like you are unable to concentrate today.”

neteyam’s cheeks flushed. “i am okay, tsireya. there is no need to worry.” 

she hummed, still not convinced. “well, alright. but if there is anything we can help you with, let us know.” she turned to swim away. but before she could get farther, neteyam called her.

“actually, tsireya, there is something that’s been on my mind for hours now.” he started. “but you must not let anyone know.”

curious, tsireya went closer to him. “what is it?”

he let out a deep breath before shooting her eyes a serious look. “last night as i was taking a walk by the shore, i came across a woman who was alone at the opposite side of the village.”

tsireya pulled away in shock and interest. “metkayina? what was she doing?”

neteyam nodded then gestured for her to lean closer again. he whispered, “she was bathing, i think.”

“bathing? that is strange.” she tilted her head in confusion. “did you approach her?”

neteyam shook his head. “no. i could not bring myself to interrupt her. she was undressed after all. how would she react if a man came to her while in such a state?”

tsireya nodded in thought, agreeing to what he said. “you are right. did you see what she looked like?”

neteyam sighed. “no, but i listened to her sing.” he spoke. “she has one of the most beautiful voices i have ever heard. her tone almost made me fall asleep from how relaxed i was, you see. and her skin,” he sighed once again, “tsireya, i had only caught a glimpse of it because i had to turn away. but i could not forget how divine she looked around the glow of the bioluminescence surrounding her.”

tsireya couldn’t hide the smirk that was growing from her lips as she listened to him talk. when she didn’t respond, neteyam turned away in embarrassment when he realized what he was saying. tsireya covered her lips and giggled. “so, you have developed a crush on this woman you saw last night. is that it, neteyam?”

“be quiet, tsireya! the others might hear you.” he scouted the surroundings and saw that everyone else was still busy with their training. “but… i don’t know for sure. i told you because i don’t know what she looks like, and i am hoping that you might know who she is.”

tsireya shook her head. “i am sorry, neteyam. i do not know who you are talking about.”

a slight frown becomes visible on his face. neteyam’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “oh. that’s okay.”

“but hey, do not worry.” she placed a hand on his arm as a gesture to comfort him. “i will help you look for her. there is not anyone in this village i am not familiar with. perhaps with more details, we can figure out who she is.”

neteyam gives her a small smile. “thank you, tsireya.”

she smiles back. 

loud laughter from everyone else in the group interrupted their conversation - lo’ak had fallen off his ilu once again because ao’nung had taunted him. tsireya and neteyam exchanged looks before heading to the commotion.

-

tsireya enjoyed spending time with the sullys. she thought they were a very fun bunch. when they arrived, her days became something she started to look more forward to.

because she believed this arrangement would be permanent from now on, she thought it would be important for an acquaintance of hers to be introduced to the sullys as well. it would happen eventually anyway since they would become fellow clan members soon. 

also, tsireya believed this acquaintance of hers would be a great addition to the sullys’ circle, especially from all the trouble her brother and his friends were bringing them. tsireya was sure that a kind and open-minded na’vi would make her new friends feel more welcome. that, and she needed another capable hand to help teach the sullys better.

“sister, are you here?” tsireya peeked inside the marui of her friend.

you turned your head to her direction, away from the new top you were working on. a smile appears on your face when you see your friend. “tsireya, it is nice to see you.”

©️ okaylorrainee 2023. please do not re-upload, translate my content anywhere without permission.

ch 01 [ masterlist . next ]

#loreraine #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar 2 #atwow fluff #neteyam x metkayina!reader #herwayofwater

[thedanniannie]

Morning's Embrace - Itachi's POV Fic

Another fic where I write from Itachi's POV

Super fluffy/sfw (nsfw briefly mentioned)

Modern AU

Gender neutral reader

Idk, but I love pretending to be Itachi and writing about the reader. I do have an obsessive part of my brain, I think that helps a bit. Paired with the introvert.

This is also kinda inspired by the "morning routine" I did for itachi, but how that would change if he woke up with his partner in bed.

.

.

.

Turning around to greet them under my sheets was a surprising necessity I never knew I needed. There was a fullness to the morning that I didn't know was lacking before I had brought them to my bed. The sunlight reflected off their skin, but the glow seemed to come from something within them. Quite frankly it was more beautiful than the sunlight. It reminded me how every morning before this one I used to sit before the window and tell myself, the sunrise is quite a lovely way to start the day. I was a fool, because I didn't know what it was like yet to wake next to them.

I watched them take peaceful breaths. How their skin softly stretched over their ribs and lungs, and how their shoulders would ascend and descend in tandem with their breathing. It made me happier than words could properly describe. I was joyous that they were alive, that they were so close to me, and grateful that they wanted me close with them. I admired every fold and crease of my sheet and duvet draped over their skin, working to burn it all into my memory. Lucky a man was I to have a sight like this to memorize, I dare not lose it. I know I would need that memory to rely on now for every moment that they were not in this same bed with me. But at the same time the sheets taunted me. I was jealous of how close the fabric was to them. I needed my body wrapped and clung to their skin as much as those sheets.

I wanted them to be undisturbed by me. I also needed to close this aching gap between us. I bring my front onto them slowly, and softly cage them into my arms. Their humming reassures my advances, and I let myself sink into them. My nose falls into the crook of their neck. I can't help but assume I'm distracting them from sleeping. That my selfish desire to be as close to them as possible is conflicting with their need to rest. I want to bring them tighter to me, but I hold back. Instead I focus on my breath, and how every inhale catches the note of their skin and the remaining scent of their lotion from the night before. They were sweeter than any pastry money could provide. Like a cake made from the heavens, with ingredients more delectable than any human could ever imagine. A flavor combination that not even the world's most skilled critic could put a finger on. Their skin was decadent, and for the first time in my life I realized how starved I was. My breathing grew involuntarily, as if I needed to bring more of them into my lungs. I almost couldn't recognize myself, finding my senses so needy for them.

I glance at the clock. 8:00. If it were any other Saturday, I would have begun my reading at this time. I would have already showered, gone for a run--although I suppose there was enough activity from last night to last me until Monday evening... I think of how I am lacking all the normalcies of my Saturday routine and to my surprise I find no care in it. At this rate I would have been content to stay in bed all day with them.

My focus falls back on the beauty before me. They were so perfect, and it was overwhelming me. My grip tightens over their torso ever so slightly. Enough to not jolt them, but not enough to my liking. I channel my need for them elsewhere, bringing my lips to the back of their neck, right above the nape. I peck at their skin softly enough to try and not disturb them, for I'm not sure what I would do with myself if I woke them when they would rather stay asleep. But I found myself needing to stop. I just wanted to deepen the embrace, to become nearly symbiotic with their body.

I retreat before I made anymore advances against my will. But the love I felt in that moment still flowed rampant through my veins, and needed one last escape for it.

"You're my everything..." I whisper to the back of their neck. It was faint, I couldn't even detect it. I'm not sure if they heard it. I know they deserve to hear it more often. But my cowardice only allows me to confess only under the guise that they are asleep and incognizant to my advances for them.

Until my confidence grows, however, I will just hold them here, ready to be the first one they see this morning.

.

.

.

Ugh I just love capturing the dissonance Itachi would have with a partner. Being so obsessed with them, but also being horrible at conveying his emotions.

Also I tried initially writing this using "you" instead of "they" for the reader, and idk it felt kinda... role play-ey for me?? Idk it threw me off. But I'd be down to experiment with it again if y'all think it would read better for you.

#itachi uchiha #itachi naruto #itachi fanfic #modern au #fluff #itachi fluff #itachi #itachi pov

[macgyvertape]

Talon of Horus thoughts (spoilers)

Why did I read this: r/grimdark recommended the book with “Love the part where they find a crashed Imperial ship ... and the slow realization they've been in Warpspace a very, very long time. When they hear that the Imperium worships the Emperor … that gets a solid ten minute laugh out of all of them.” (turns out thats the 2nd book)

What I enjoyed: the first half of the book is Khayon’s slice of life (going through the motions) while living in grimdarkhell, then he meets Abbadon and he’s suddenly ride or die for this guy.

I haven’t read anything before with Khayon or Abbadon but I thought this was a good intro, so it's been interesting to see other people's opinons who have read a lot of TSons books.

Notes:

The book opens with Khayon saying every word is true yet he immediately follows it with “I had nothing left to lose. Everything I’d treasured was dust at the mercy of history’s winds”, which is proven untrue over the course of the book. Khayon sacrifices or loses a lot in service to Abbadon and the Black Legion (what remains of his sister, his ship, his Power Axe Saern, his wolf Gyre). It has me wondering how much is this Khayon lying to himself vs the author seeing it differently.

Khayon has a lot of musing on daemons and the warp, how it works which I found an interesting contrast to the few other CSM books I've read.

Abaddon gets introduced as this dude whose been living alone with hair he's stopped taking care of, just accumulating hoards of stuff and picking up homebrew as a hobby. I don't know if depressed is the right word to characterize him for all he reminds me of myself. He was described with "a smiling voice" and I was surprised by how personable he was since I only knew him through fandom flanderization.

I wasn't expecting the twist that Nefertari had been dead this whole time, but I suppose it's yet another aspect of the past that Khayon clings onto discounting how it's been transformed. I really got the sense in the first part of the book that Khayon found himself in a limbo (just like the limbo hell he's physically trapped in) where the past torments him but he can't let go and move forwards until he meets Abbadon.

I've mostly read Alpha Legion, Night Lords, and Iron Warriors books for CSM so idk why I expected loyalty but from the beginning the Ezekarion is lying to each other. Makes me wonder what lies Khayon is being told.

“This is what it is like to live within a Nine Legions warband. To see things that cannot be possible and pursue answers that may never come. To wonder over the state of your brothers’ souls, knowing they doubt your sanity in return. Loyalty is everything, yet trust is the one thing we so rarely have. ‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘A momentary distraction. All is well.’ That was the first time I lied to Ezekyle. He knew I lied, yet I sensed no anger or threat of reprisal. What I sensed from him was a slow pulse of approval. A test passed. An offer of trust given and accepted. I was not lying to him, after all. We were both lying to the Justaerin.”

Is Abbadon's main strategy throwing large spaceships at a planet and calling it speartip? I’m not sure if this was published before he did this at Cadia with the Blackstone fortress but he does it here as well with Khayon’s help.

Wasn’t expecting Cloned!Horus in the last 20 pages of the book. It feels like Abaddon has dad issues but in large parts from Horus’ failure at the Siege and being turned into a walking Chaos puppet. It's interesting Abaddon says this:

“I was fortunate that day. Not just because I survived a battle with a demigod that should never have been fought, but because I heard Abaddon’s last words to his father. With a slow, smooth withdrawal, he pulled the Talon clear of his father’s body, and the moment before Horus fell – the moment before the light finally went out in the primarch’s eyes – Abaddon whispered five soft words. ‘I am not your son.”

But then makes the Black Legion symbol the Eye of Horus and takes up Horus' signature weapon the Talon of Horus and leaves it unchanged. I want to read a lot of Abbadon Daddy issues meta posts

#warhammer 40k #talon of horus #iskandar khayon #ezekyle abaddon #mac reads books

[journalofsorts2]

something im not sure how much of the general public understands is all the habits and life changes you have to make once you stop being suicidal. in my personal experience, i was chronically suicidal for years on end (i didn't do it cause im a coward lmao) and it's only let up in recent years. it wasn't off and on, it was constant until one day i woke up and realized i was actually just scared and i didn't really want to die. but obviously being constantly suicidal for 5+ years has a lot of effects on your life and i feel like every week i encounter a new one. for example, i have no clue what to do with my future. i never planned for it, i never had a reason to. in my mind i was supposed to be six feet under right now, there was no future to plan besides the method i was going to end myself. so now i feel like im scrambling to figure out what im going to do for the rest of my life and what prerequisites i need to do said thing for the rest of my life. another thing is that it took a WHILE for me to retrain my brain to not think "now im gonna kms" at every minor inconvenience. like obviously people joke about that kinda stuff all the time and it doesn't always mean they want to genuinely die, but in my case there was always a certain percent of seriousness behind those jokes. when i said "im gonna kms" in frustration to a game back then, a part of me genuinely did mean it. and so i've had to retrain my brain to know that offing myself is actually not a valid solution to all of life's problems. another one is basic health habits. when you can barely get out of bed in the mornings, it's hard to get the motivation to brush your teeth, let alone get in the shower and face the body you hate. teaching myself to brush every morning and night and take a shower everyday (WITHOUT WEIGHING MYSELF) took a bit. especially cause adhd makes it harder to form habits that stick. and like healthy eating? that was basically non existent when i was majorly suicidal. it was easier to just get something easy to prepare (i.e. frozen dinners, etc) then actually take the steps to cook and prepare a meal that would nurture my body. especially when my autistic ass is an extremely picky eater and unhealthy eating is a common thing with autistics. relearning my love for cooking has been really fun and i really love coming up with different variations of the food i already know how to make and enjoy. idk being suicidal fucked me up in a lot of ways but it's been fun to relearn how to live. i enjoy getting out of bed because i get to make a breakfast i'll enjoy now. life does get better. it really doesn't feel like it in the moment, and i know i hated hearing that from people before, but it really is true. not everyday is perfect but that's okay because nobody is meant to be perfect. as long as you're alive, you're doing a great job

#journalofsorts rants

[s1ater]

thieves in the night.

pairings. theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader, mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin!reader

part one of n/a.

about. in which a group of boys are in search for the one thing that keeps them from their death.

warnings. swearing, dark themes

ricky rocks. idk if you guys are going to dig this 🤔 i hate it already

it happens at night.

minds are run through, memories are stolen, a version of brutality is placed upon a large amount of boys that come in the forms of bruises, cuts, gashes—that heal but never disappear from the back of their minds. they can never touch the thought—fully grasp what it is or why this has happened to them or even who, but it’s there and it hovers in high heights that they can’t reach.

all survival, that’s what they all think, the persecutors, the boys. and it is; for their survival.

especially theodore.

days got short and he barely felt the effect of professor snapes lessons now. he dreaded the night, but it seemed to come faster than anything else, but couldn’t move fast enough when it finally arrived.

the gift—the thing they were looking for, the thing that was key to all their survival—was the only thing he thought about now and he didn’t even know what it was.

the beginning of year six started not how expected, he was sure none of his friends expected to be initiated into a group that carried out the orders of the dark lord.

it made sense though. the moment mattheo riddle walked into his life, he knew it wasn’t just another friend, he’d be a fool to think that.

they were bound for life.

°•

potions with slughorn was always something theodore never looked forward to, ever. he felt like an asshole every time he sat in his seat and connected eyes with the man. it was like he knew; everything and it always threw theodore off, making him anxious.

and it didn’t help that he was late.

“awh, mr. nott,” he had his body tilted back as he seemed to be sizing up theodore from where he stood—almost deciding if he were friend or foe. “have a seat where you can.”

theodore looked to where all the students sat, looking back at him. it seemed they had all pulled their chairs to the center of the room instead behind desks where things usually were. it made him curse as their were no free seats in the back but rather in the near front.

“go on, no time to waste here.”

he shuffled through the rows before slowly sitting into the only empty seat next to you. neither of you thought much about it, he didn’t even see you.

“some of you have no sense of time,” slughorn scoffs, back to shifting across the floor in front of you all. “swear if the ministry knew what was best, they’d have a nation wide curse put on our children to make them at least on time.”

“long live the rebellion, right?” you rolled your eyes in a frivolous way, shrugging, not watching your words carefully. “i swear we fight for something of rights and then someone goes and says something dumb like that.”

he doesn’t realize you’re even speaking to him. not until you finally really looked to him where he immediately looked slightly confused—not processing your words or not exactly understanding the meaning you were trying to put out. lost in translation, very lost in translation.

he thought you must have thought he was someone else but by the way you stared so surely at him and then reached your hand out, offering a soft smile but with an arched brow that also threw him off, introducing—

“y/n.”

he took it, after a long moment, “theodore.”

“i’ve seen you before,” you look him up, your eyes curving around the family ring he wore around his pinky and the scars the littered his fingers, “you’re a nott.”

“you get that from slughorn?” his brow arched and his eyes turned harsh of what looked like annoyance.

“no, you just look an awful lot like your father.”

his chest tightened. not only did he hate that supposed compliment more than anything, but he also found it strange. how would you know his father?

“and you?” his features twisted in suspicion, not knowing you, not even really recognizing you in the slightest like you did of him.

“y/l/n,” you speak, and the both of you finally release hands from the firm grasp, removing him from a trance and back to reality—a smack in the face. the name, he knew, he knew the fucking name and suddenly it made a lot of sense.

“i’m not sure i’m as familiar of you,” he lied, pulling his best face now that he was finally back into the game, but the skeptical look you gave him made him think his facade wasn’t working. “but i’m curious.”

“of what?”

“you.”

“why?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

you didn’t say anything but your face screwed up instead playfully, adjusting yourself so you were facing slughorn once again, “maybe you should be more curious on slughorn’s lesson.”

°•

exhilarated.

theodore hadn’t felt like that ever and he never thought he would, but walking down the corridor to the slytherin common room, theodore felt exhilarated.

the common room was dim and filled with low chatter but was interrupted the minute he walked in with the aggressive buzz radiating off his body.

they all noticed it before he spoke, before they could even get a real good look at him.

“it’s not a man, and it’s not a younger year like we suspected,” he looked urgent, it caught all of them off guard—never having seen theodore so anxious and full of energy. “it was right under our fucking noses.”

mattheo raises his eyes now, looking at theodore like he was a prick, but it only urged him to keep speaking as he sat down before throwing a scrappy looking book on the coffee table where dust spilled into the air making all the boys wince with a cough.

“it’s a girl and she’s in our very own house.”

now they’re all looking at him like he’s prick, shaking their heads and frowning while theodore stared back, not fazed but itching to move. it was so hard to hold it in, he just had to say it all because he felt like a genius for the first time in months and that they’d finally came to a break through.

“the prophecy said-“

“the prophecy was wrong,” theodore looks between all the boys with his arm extended across the table, making sure his assertiveness reached each and every one of their eyes. “i don’t give a fuck what the prophecy said because it was wrong.”

he looks up to mattheo who stares back, his expression blank but holding a questioning look that’d make anyone back down, “it’s a y/l/n,” he knew mattheo would know the name just like he knew it. “she comes down from a death eater traitor of a grandfather and she’s nothing short of the old man because she spoke of a rebellion.”

it’s silent as they look between theodore and mattheo; who thinks and hates how he feels as if he’s being challenged right then.

“and what makes you think it’s her.”

“because we have no one else on the list,” his tone is nasty, “if it’s not her, fine, cross her off but she has to know something.”

he feels it in his bones that he is right.

“talk to your father, if anything it’ll give us time.”

talk to you father. mattheo rolls his eyes and he leans forward, now challenging the hard tone theodore held with a simple stare, “tell me about her.”

°•

“i didn’t think i’d see you,” theodore froze from right behind where you sat, studying a book from the looks of it, but he guessed you weren’t but rather him since he had entered the library over twenty minutes ago before finally coming up to you. “not for awhile, anyways.”

he took a seat next to you, leaning on his elbows while watching you straighten your posture and close the potions book you had been reading for the past hour, “you watching me, nott?”

“you know my father?” he brushes off your question, giving you a calm stare that made your chest tighten.

you didn’t know how to answer. i mean, it’s a simple answer, ‘yes’, and it’s a simple explanation, you just didn’t want to speak under his stare.

luckily, he didn’t care much for your answer in the first place.

“how come i’ve never seen you before,” he leans his head against his propping hand. he looks and seems bored but you can tell that he’s far from it. “you think i would have seen you at least once in the common room.”

“maybe you’re just not very observant, theo.”

god, the way you said his name.

no one called him theo. not for in a long time.

“i highly doubt that,” he narrows his brows but his lips twitch, taking your words lightly.

“you think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

not lately.

but he doesn’t say that, he doesn’t say anything.

“maybe you didn’t see me because i didn’t want to be seen.”

his lips curve, “i doubt that.”

you watch him. you watch his face carefully, surveying his face and in the way it seemed so completely run down even with that smile, “you should sleep more,” your thumb lightly dabs against his cheek, as if touching him reassuringly—no matter how quick the touch was and no matter the fact that you got up from your seat and left him—it was reassuring.

°•

“she’s pretty.”

“yeah, because that’s going to be valuable information mattheo will want to hear,” blaze rolled his eyes, continuing to read through the paper as lorenzo examined you from two tables away in the three broomsticks.

“you never know,” he shrugs, turning from his altered position that was made just to stare. “you can never tell with him.”

“which is exactly why we have to stay focus.”

ever since theo had made the proposition that the gift was held within you, mattheo had made it clear that everyone had to do everything they could to figure you out—which was kind of hard when theo was the only one who could talk to you without it being weird.

so at that moment, everyone else was staking it out.

“you think it’s her?”

blaise doesn’t answer for awhile and enzo thinks he doesn’t hear him at first until blaise lifts his head, sighing, and putting the paper down, “i hope so—for us and theodore’s sake.”

because if theodore was wrong, it’d be the end for him.

°•

“curiosity kills, you know that, right?”

“and i should be afraid?”

“maybe,” you shrugged, now leaning against one of the large rooted trees that bordered the forbidden forest, staring to theo who kept a good distance with his hands shoved in his dress pants pockets. “especially if you find out things you don’t exactly intend to find out.”

you simply shrug again, but he can tell there’s more meaning behind your words than you act. a ghost of a smirk curves on his lips as he tips back on his feet, watching you.

you look so innocent and small planted against the tree and it makes his stomach bubble up, “really?”

you hum, “but i have a feeling you don’t care.”

“why would i?” he strolls toward you now, his curiosity placed in the core of his eye, it makes you bite back a smile.

he now stood close enough with the points of his shoes almost stepping over yours, teasing a step closer, teasing his body to be put against yours.

“answer the question.”

“i don’t think i need to.”

he laughs sarcastically, his head thrown to look at his feet as he lightly kicks at the dirt before looking back up at you. he was nervous, you couldn’t tell, but theo felt it in his heart that this whole thing could go wrong if you were speaking on what he thought you were speaking on.

he prayed you just loved a good chase and were just fucking with his head.

“you’re a strange girl.”

“you’re the one who followed me out here,” you tipped back and forth on your feet, “i’d say you’re the strange one, theo.”

“maybe, i just wanted to see your pretty face.”

you scoffed, “liar.”

he raised a brow, "you’re so pretty, i wish i never said anything," he examines your face closely, as if really looking at it this time; for a last time. his hand reaches out and is gentle and seems to be barely there as he runs it down the side of your face. “it’s a fucking shame.”

you couldn’t tell if he was sincere about whatever it was he was talking about—but it seemed so by how distraught his demeanor seemed to suddenly turn.

“what’d you say, theo,” you were calm, confused on what he was on about.

his eyes flick to yours, and he leans, meeting his lips with yours for a just a second, wanting to savor you for just a second before you’d be tainted, “you have a gift.”

navigation.

@aliyahsutherland @sereinegemini @afidiofobia @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @sunsetcurve-95 @hizziestial @sophiekay20 @aliyahsutherland @multifandom-obsessed @thomaslefteyebrow @transias @sambucky8 @heyitsmeimdead @padf00ts-l0ver @thehuntress09 @afidiofobia @black-rose-29 @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @demigirl-with-problems @sunsetcurve-95

#theo nott x y/n #theodore nott oneshot #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez headcanon #marcus lopez arguello #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #blaise imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #slytherin boys #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley #hogwarts boys

[24hlevi]

can i just say that i've just finished reading that angst headcanons/imagines/scenarios or whatever it's supposed to be called about the boys reacting to y/n dying and i'm just...i'm just a sobbing mess.

it's well-written so 1000/10 for that, but whY MUST YOU ATTACK MY HEART IN THIS MANNER???? i love your work, but my poor heart ack-

btw is there any possibility to ask for a request for a same scenario but for kazutora, mitsuya, and hanma? like for kazutora's part, imagine if it wasn't yknow who died but its y/n 🥲

omg you’re so nice first of all thank you 😭 and OMG YES

TR Boys Reaction To You Dying Pt. 2

Tokyo Revengers Boys (Kazutora, Shuji, & Takashi) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Pure Angst

Warnings: Swearing, Suicide (kind of? it’s what happened to baji did so idk what to label it as 🤷‍♂️)

Hanemiya Kazutora:

All Kazutora could think was that it was all his fault that this happened. He was too caught up in his own world that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He didn’t even know you had shown up to the fight until he stabbed you instead of Baji.

“Y/n?” Kazutora asked, dropping the knife immediately when he saw you standing between him and Baji, blood dripping onto the ground below you. He completely froze, not knowing what he had just done or why he even did it. “Baby, are you okay?”

You held onto the stab wound, coughing up blood as you looked at your boyfriend. “I just wanted you…to stop.” You choked out before collapsing to your knees.

Everyone had stopped and was watching you by now, shocked that you had even protected Baji from both sides when your whole body landed on the car below you. Spitting blood out of your mouth, you laid on your back, staring up at the blue sky that was dusted with white clouds.

“Y/n!”

You heard multiple people yell your name, but you couldn’t even tell who it was until you saw Kazutora kneeling beside you. “Y/n! Keep your eyes open, okay?!”

You shook your head from side to side, raising your hand to put it on Kazutora’s face before quietly speaking, “Give it to me, the knife.”

“What? Why? Look, Y/n you just gotta stay awake okay?” Kazutora spoke fast, clearly freaking out on both the outside and inside, not even caring about the gang fight anymore.

“Hand it over, Kazutora.” You said his full name which caused him to go quiet, staring down at you with saddened eyes before handing you the knife that already had your blood on it. “Thank you, babe. I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Kazutora said to you.

You bundled up your shirt at the top, putting it in your mouth so you had something to bite down on before plunging the knife into your stomach and twisting it around, then pulling it back out and dropping it.

Kazutora wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him as you lived your last moments, and he couldn’t even say anything. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I always will love you.” Was all he said after you died.

Kazutora then took the blame for killing you, resulting im him ending up in jail again but he wasn’t angry about it. He was just sad. So sad that he didn’t even try to get out of jail and get back into the gang life. He just sat around, continuously saying,

“It’s all my fault.”

Hanma Shuji:

Shuji swore that he would never allow you to get hurt while he was away doing gang activities that he didn’t want you included in. That’s why he always had someone beside you and a bodyguard to make sure you would always be safe. But even then, it didn’t work.

It was half past 1 in the morning when Shuji’s phone rang while he was with the other Valhalla members, beating up some random other gang member. Shuji stopped punching the other male, standing up straight and took his phone out of his pocket and opened it, answering. “Yes?”

“Shuji…”

Shuji’s breath hitched when he heard your shaky and quiet voice, and he immediately knew that something was wrong. “Y/n? Where are you, darling? Is something wrong?”

“I’m…at home. B-But someone..got in.” You tried your best to reply, but it was coming out shaky and slow. 

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I promise, baby. Okay? I love you.” Shuji told you before turning around and looking at everyone, taking the phone away from his ear. “Kazutora, you’re in charge until I get back, understand? As for everyone else, just do what you’re told.” He said to everyone, proceeding to then walk out and make his way onto the streets when he started to sprint down the different roads. 

Now he was just making sure that he made it to your place in five minutes like he said he would, which usually he would be able to do easily, but he was more determined now that he had heard something had gone wrong whilst he was away. Upon reaching your place, he saw the front door opened already and he quickly rushed inside. “Y/n?! Baby, where are you?!” He called out as he started to run through every room in the house. 

He finally made it to your room where you laid on the floor, a puddle of blood beneath you as you were taking shallow and slow breaths. “Y/n!” Shuji yelled out your name, going over to you and kneeling down beside you. He grabbed you and lifted you up, holding you in his arms as he checked for your pulse. When he felt it he let out a sigh of relief but it was very weak and barely noticeable which made him realize he probably only had a few more moments with you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For not being here when I should have. I’m so fucking stupid, I should have just stayed here with you. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry.” Shuji said to you, his voice cracking halfway through as tears welled up in his eyes.

You looked up at him and smiled lightly despite you dying in his arms. “It’s okay, Shuji. Don’t...blame yourself. I still love you.” You had never seen the boy cry before, that’s how you knew that he did really love you, that he wasn’t just saying it so he could manipulate or get things from you. 

“I love you too.” Shuji whispered out. 

Soon enough, your head went limp and your eyes were stuck open, all of the life drained from your face as blood dirtied the floor and Shuji’s clothes. “Y/n? Y/n? Wake up, please.” The boy pleaded to your now deceased body, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get you back. Not ever again. 

Shuji became what you would have never wanted him to become, a terrible person who killed anyone if they even looked at him the wrong way, and most importantly, one that drank all of his feelings after the day was over, crying to himself over your death still. 

Because he would never get you back. And he regretted that the most.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Takashi was the most important person in your life, just like you were to him. He had told you on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with you forever. And he thought it would really happen. Boy, was he wrong. So, so wrong. 

You two were walking down the busy street, eating street food while going inside stores and just admiring the night scenery. Everything was going perfectly normal, until it all changed within a few seconds. 

“Hey, babe?” Takashi said, looking over at you.

“Yeah?” You repled. 

“Do you wanna get married some day in the future?” 

The question that came out of your boyfrien’s mouth shocked you, and you didn’t know how to reply. You both were still teenagers, how the hell were you supposed to know? “Only if it’s you I’m marrying.” You aswered with a smile. 

Takashi smiled back and pressed his lips against yours before pulling away quickly after. “Same here.” He told you. 

Suddenly, car tires screeched on the black cement road and one zoomed around, an all black van. It’s windows opened and guns pointed out of them before they started to fire. Takashi quickly wrapped his body around you and covered you with his, not even caring if he would end up getting killed because of it. 

After the car drove off, Takashi looked at you and asked in a frantic voice, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You looked at him, then down to your side, shaking your head as you spat out blood. Takashi’s eyes widened as he yelled out your name, but you had collapsed onto the ground, grabbing at your abdomen where the gunshot wound was, blood beginning to soak through your clothes and onto the sidewalk below you. 

“No, no, no. Y/n! Stay with me!” He yelled, taking his phone out of his pocket and about to call the polce when you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” You told him, a small smile on your face. 

“It’s not okay! I can’t lose you! We-We just talked about getting married some day!” The boy continued to yell.

“Maybe...in another life, we will.” You spoke barely above a whisper, your vision starting to darken and turn blurry. “I love you, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” Takashi replied to you but you didn’t respond. “Y/n?” He reached his hand over and shook you gently, and when you didn’t move he looked at your face, then realizing that you were gone. He sat on the ground, and put his hands over his face, beginning to cry. 

Takashi cried and mourned over your death everyday, despite people telling him to move on. He just couldn’t. He would never be able to find someone he would love like he loved you. He knew that. So that’s how it remained the rest of his life. Lonely, and depressed. 

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora scenarios #hanma shuji #hanma shuuji x reader #shuji x reader #hanma scenario #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya scenarios #mitsuya takashi x reader #request #anon ask #answered

[shig-a-shig-ah]

Spinner + Oviposition👀 congratulations on your milestone!

@impalawrites not me in the discord server asking how tf to write this and not even realizing you were the one who requested it. Thanks for expanding my horizons--idk if I got it right, but it was fun!

» cw: breeding, consensual oviposition, belly bulge, Spinner only has one dick cuz I have some other double-dick stuff coming up lmao. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Another from my 1k follower event. 

» wc: 1k

"Are you—a-ah—are you sure about this?"

The scales on Spinner's cheeks are flushed dark, his clawed fingertips scratching at the sheets as his hips buck up into your hand. Your fingers are slick with the clear fluid leaking from his tip, coating your fingers and his throbbing cock, running down his engorged shaft to pool on the bed beneath.

"I'm sure," you answer. "It's uncomfortable, right? I want to help."

It's the truth, or part of it. Your boyfriend had avoided you for days before finally telling you what was wrong, obviously struggling to control himself as he babbled nervously, distractedly, about springtime and mating cycles and eggs. He needed someplace to put them and you—sympathetic but also more intrigued than you admitted—had volunteered.

In his right mind, Spinner might not have accepted the offer. But the hormones flooding his system have had him worked up for days, achingly hard and desperate to bury himself in something warm and tight, the grip of his own fist not enough to release the clutch weighing heavy in his belly. So, when you ask if he's ready, he only nods.

You climb to straddle him, brushing the leaking head of his straining erection against your slit, and it's all Spinner can do to keep from forcing up into you when you start to sink down, something primal in the back his mind alight with the need to fill you up as quickly as he can, any semblance of pleasure be damned.

He restrains himself. Barely.

His claws dig into your hips when you start to ride him, the velvety walls of your cunt massaging every inch of his length. It's good, sparks of pleasure shooting along his spine as his cock weeps more of that clear liquid inside you, helping to stretch and soften you up for what comes next. But even when he starts to buck up to meet your movements, it feels all wrong, some part of his baser instincts left unsatisfied by the languid rolls of your hips and the way you pause to grind against him every time his tip kisses your cervix.

"N-need more," Spinner stutters, coherent words a challenge for his tongue. There's a haze starting to cloud his mind as he squirms more restlessly beneath you.

You kiss him, hard. "Whatever you want."

You start to work yourself faster, gasps and mewls escaping you as you bounce on his cock, angling yourself just right so he strokes that tender spot inside. It feels good, and Spinner can feel himself driving a little deeper with every thrust. But something's still off, not right. It's not supposed to be like this, you on top of him, slowly working yourself open and circling your hips. He's supposed to... supposed to...

Something snaps, the last of his rationale thoughts falling away, and then he's digging his fingers into you more harshly, rolling you beneath him in one abrupt movement. You let out a surprised whimper at that reversal of your positions, and another strained gasp when Spinner shoves your knees towards your chest, rutting his hips into erratically.

"I'm sorry," he manages to bleat as he fucks into you roughly, but you only shake your head, let your eyes roll back. The rail of his length against your cervix should hurt but it doesn't, only feels impossibly good thanks to whatever his own body has been spurting to prepare yours, that clear liquid now coating your cunt and your inner thighs, allowing him to glide in and out of you with ease, filling the room with lewd squelches alongside your own noises.

"Gonna...gonna c-cum," you whine, and a moment later you're clenching around him, drawing him deeper into your greedy hole, and when you finally slump, muscles relaxing from riding that high, Spinner finally manages what his body has been waiting for. The tip of his cock plunges it's way through your slowly-stretching cervix, impossibly tight and incredible wrapped around his length.

"O-oh, OH," You cry out at the breach, and he musters a flicker of anxiety at your possible discomfort, but one look at your face makes clear that's not why you're keening. Your face has gone slack, eyes rolled back in obvious ecstasy as your sex flutters around him.

With one last drive of his hips, Spinner buries himself as deep in your insides as he can manage, hips stilling and his own grunts and gasps falling from his lips as he feels something shifting in his own gut, his shaft pulsing and stretching as the first of his clutch starts the journey towards your womb. It’s carried alongside more of his own leaking slick. 

Another long, low moan echoes off your lips as you're stretched wider by that first egg, your body twitching and convulsing as the pressure of it sends you to another peak.

"You're doing so good," Spinner manages to murmur, and you give the faintest of nods, barely aware of what he's saying, of anything except the exquisite stretch of your insides. You hadn't expected it to feel like this. So good, so right. "I think—ngh—I think just one more,” he gasps, his own voice strained.

Then you're shuddering again as your walls are forced wide again, the press of his egg against your sensitive front wall sending you shuddering and clenching again, those contractions only helping to guide it deeper until it finds it's home.

Spinner pulls away a little when the last of those eggs is buried safely in your womb, his own head slowly clearing even as you continue to mewl and quiver beneath him. He lets one clawed hand come to rest on your lower belly, massaging lightly, and watching with wide eyes as the remnants of his and your cum dribble out. Your insides feels strange when he pushes and prods, too, and when you glance down you can see the bulge of your lower belly stretching to accommodate his clutch. 

The sight spurs an odd feeling of pride and protectiveness in you, the visceral nature of it catching you off guard, at least for a moment. After a moment though, that sense of possessiveness settles. Feels right. Why wouldn’t you feel such an intense attachment to your eggs?

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #bnha x reader #bnha spinner #spinner smut #tw: oviposition #tw: belly bulge #ghuleh.writes #a ghuleh hits 1k #nsft

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

#yandere aizawa #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasmic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #yandere siren #yandere fantasy #yandere x child reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic obsession

[goldengoddess]

hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh

will you marry me - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)

warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)

kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.

but he knew you.

and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.

so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.

so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you. 

you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate. 

you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away. 

you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.

you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”

he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”

you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”

the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up. 

and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you. 

later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight. 

“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”

you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful. 

he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”

his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?

before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals. 

you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you. 

you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall. 

kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job. 

“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you. 

so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp. 

you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”

but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand. 

“angel” he started speaking

“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”

he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”

another gasp on your part. 

he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”

you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.

you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”

you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him. 

after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”

“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly. 

“even marry me?”

“especially marry you.” 

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods

if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #six of crows imagine #grisha #nina zenik #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone imagine

[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #losers club smut #losers x reader

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #my fics #witch!wanda #marvel au #witch!au #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #no idea what to tag this- #wanda x you #lgbt marvel #lgbt

[writingtoforgetreality]

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @eristudytime, @hiraethmaximoff, @incansas, @fionanovasleftnut, @mundaytuesday, @ashamed23, @pedropascallovebot, @kpoptrash2000, @lulu-yuming, @bibliophilewednesday, @arctic--ash, @mischiefmanaged71, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @tatooineisdry, @obsidian-queen, @h0ly-fire, @dxnxdjarxn (thanks for your support <3)

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #daniel brühl #tfatws #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #disney #disney original series #disney+ #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #one shot #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #sam wilson #bucky barnes

[bloodorangesoup]

Phone Sex Headcanons | P.P.

Request: (@honeyteanocoffee) Ok so I’ve been thinking about Peter Parker and phone sex - I think that he'd be nervous at first but actually be really good at it, Stark!Reader where they've been dating and had sex before but for some reason haven't seen one another in a really long time like a mission (or a pandemic idk idk) I feel like she'd pitch the idea and Peter would be kind of nervous about feeling stupid and then just- y'know- be amazing at it

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Stark part only comes up in the beginning)

Word Count: 944

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | mutual masturbation, phone sex

My Masterlist

Notes: I wrote this up really quick so there’s no edits/revisions. I hope you guys like it! Happy reading!

So I’d imagine you two just both go to different colleges and both of you would be especially busy and only had time to call in between schedules

And one day you confess to him that you’re going crazy without him and how horny you are all the time without him there

Peter tells you he’s been the same way and that’s when you’d suggest trying phone sex

I think Peter would be especially nervous at first because your dad's tech could probably monitor your calls but you reassure him that your dad respects your privacy enough not to do that

He'd also be nervous since he tends to fumble around with his words so he’d be worried he’d sound stupid but you tell him that if it doesn't work then it's okay and you guys never have to do it again

At the beginning he's like “where do we even start?”

You take the reins because sub!peter

You start by asking him to take his pants off and take his dick out and he just gives you a shaky “okay” back

He can hear the rustling of your clothes on your end

You already know he’s a but too shy to tell you how to touch yourself so you start by telling him what you’re doing

You just narrate slowly like “I’m putting my hand in my panties now”

And he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do so he kind of just stand there as his heart starts beating faster

You ask him what you should do next and he very quietly mutters “can you touch your clit” so you start to circle it with your finger and moan louder than you expected to

When he hears you moan through the [hone his inhibitions fly out the window and he’s getting too hot so he finally grabs hold of his dick and when he does he lets out a groan that you can hear through the phone

You ask him what he’s doing and his eyes snap open and he goes all red until he realizes this is exactly what he’s supposed to be doing

He tries his hardest to make his voice sound steady and tells you “I just touched my dick,” and he squeezes a bit and lets out a hiss before saying, “God, I wish this was your hand”

And the moment he says it he regrets it because he thinks he just sounded like a creep but then you let out a whine over the line and he has to close his eyes for a second at how much he’s enjoying this

You tell him you wish it was his hand touching you and Peter curses every god he knows for making it so that he can’t even see how you look at the moment

He’s sitting in his chair stroking his cock with his head thrown back, his headphones making your moans loud and clear in his ears as if you were right there on top of him

Then the sound is interrupted by the ring of an incoming call and Peter groans because it’s the last thing he needed

He looks down at his phone and realizes it an incoming FaceTime from you and he’s never answered a phone call so fast in his life

Your phone is propped up on your night stand and he can see you laying in bed facing the night stand with your legs spread open and - holy shit - you’re not wearing panties but you have a shirt on

(you had taken your shirt off earlier but you wanted to make him work for it so you put it back on before FaceTiming him)

His jaw is slack and he’s pumping his dick trying to look at everything you’re showing him

You prop your back up on a pillow and keep rubbing your clit with one hand and ask him what he wants you to do

He’d gradually be losing his self control and just huskily ask “can you show me your tits, baby, please”

You peel your shirt off your body again and he watches as your tits drop out of it and whines

You start touching your tits and pinching and rubbing your nipples

Peter has to consciously make himself slow down so he can last because the show you’re giving him is just too good

He asks you to put a finger in yourself and you put one in and start pumping in and out

You eventually add in another and as you push them in and out you curl your fingers into your sweet spot

As you do that Peter matches your pace so he’s stroking himself at the same time you push your fingers in and every time you curl your fingers he rubs his thumb over his sensitive tip

His face would scrunch up but he’d force himself to keep his eyes open to watch you

His come would shoot all over his chest and stomach and he’d still be watching as you come all over your hands

He sees your back arch as you finger yourself faster and use your other hand to touch your tits

You’d both take a minute to catch your breath and look at how spent the both of you look

He’d let out a breathy laugh before being like “You were right, this was a good idea”

You two would clean up and keep FaceTiming the rest of the night

This wouldn’t happen all the time once you guys aren’t as busy anymore but on the rare times you are that busy phone sex would happen a LOT

#peter parker smut #peter parker headcanons #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #remus sanders

[folkloreguk]

Mirror, Mirror (m)

A/N: I will never ever determine which body type the reader has, but I want every single one of you to know that it’s okay to feel empowered by the way your nude body looks, you’re absolutely beautiful and no size is a limit to how sexy you can be!!! You go queens!

words: ~5.4 (I’m sorry idk how to write short things anymore asdfgh)

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), kinda fwb??, sexting

[H/N means “his name”]

There’s no feeling quite like the one of trying on your new clothes that just arrived in the mail and loving how they looked. Especially when said clothes were lingerie and you felt like you could conquer the world, even when you were just standing in front of your mirror at 7 pm after you had just stuffed your stomach with lasagna. And what better way to enjoy your happiness than to share it with your best friend?

In fact, you had two best friends. One, a girl who you could trust with your life, and two, a boy who knew all your deepest secrets. One of the central differences between the two was that you would never think about asking the former about his opinion on your new lingerie. You almost laughed at the mere thought while you went through your contacts list and selected your friend’s name and clicked ‘send’. “It’s new. How do I look?” you typed and sent quickly, before throwing your phone onto you bed. You were feeling sexy, but for the rest of the evening there was only one way you wanted to feel: Comfortable. So, you changed into your pajamas instead.

You wondered what she would say about your photo. Sending almost-nudes to your friend might have seemed odd, but for the two of you, it was a completely normal occurrence. You loved making sure you both felt beautiful and confident by complimenting each other. Happily, you walked back to your room after you had picked up some snacks in the kitchen. You grabbed your phone as you plopped down on your bed. While you stuffed a handful of crisps into your mouth, you unlocked your phone to check your messages. You had expected a text from your best girl friend, but instead you had received one from H/N, your best boy friend. Pure horror consumed you when you clicked on the chat and saw your almost-nude there. Sent at 7:01 pm. Seen at 7:05 pm. And worst of all, he had replied before you could have clarified the mistake.

H/N: Idk where this came from but…you’re hot

You: SORRY THIS WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU

H/N: Okay that kinda offends me…you have a bf and didn’t tell me???

You: NO OMG THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING HELP…it was for GF/N just for fun!!!

H/N: Ohhh…in that case…

You watched the dots signaling that he was still writing while you were still wondering how you would ever look at him without getting embarrassed from now on. It wasn’t like the two of you never talked about sex. In fact, he knew a lot about what you liked and didn’t like in the bedroom. Not because he had witnessed it. But thanks to multiple sleep overs with late-night conversations, when your lips became a little loose, you had discussed more sexual topics than you had ever dreamt of. Your cheeks were still feeling hot when you received another text.

H/N: How do I look?

Without missing a beat, he had attached a photo of him. Shirtless. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just removed his shirt, which he probably had. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he stood in front of a mirror. He had tilted his head a little, showing off his jawline while he gazed at the camera with hooded eyes. You felt more embarrassed with every second you kept staring at his body.

H/N: OMG sorry this wasn’t for you!!!!!

Now you could only laugh at his stupid message.

You: Stop making fun of me!!

H/N: I’m trying to make you feel better!! Do I not get a compliment?

You: Thanks and you look great…can we please NEVER bring this up in the future?

H/N: Sure if that’s what you want…but if you ever need someone to rate your underwear again you know where to find me

~~~

And he really kept his promise. The next time you hung out, he was joking about everything but your little accident. You were thankful. But not mentioning the memory didn’t automatically delete it from your brain. And that’s where your newest problem begun.

You had never really looked at him in a sexual way before – sure, you thought he was handsome – but after than one damned picture he had sent you, you seemed to see him in a completely different light. There were no romantic feelings involved. But something felt profusely wrong about the way you thought about sex when he reached for a glass on the highest kitchen shelf and a small part of his abs was revealed. Or the way you instinctively licked your lips when you watched him stretch his neck in front of you. Or how your head spun when he lifted his shirt to wipe away his sweat when you worked out together.

One day was particularly bad. He had asked you to go to the public pool together, and being his best friend, of course you had said yes. As expected, he made you laugh until you were crying, scream when he playfully wrestled you in the water and giggle when he chased you on the water slide. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice his body. You almost felt bad, but then again, it wasn’t like you adored his character any less. You simply had some added adoration for another part of him. What were you supposed to do when he looked this good acting out a comic character while you played charades in the water? You might have been laughing on the outside, but you could barely tear your eyes off his neck and chest. Lately, you realized, the amount of thoughts you spent on wanting to kiss him had become problematic to you.

When you returned home at night, you couldn’t deny feeling sexually frustrated. Not wanting to give in to the inappropriate thoughts about your best friend, you turned on a tv show to distract yourself. But before you knew it, you were spending more time looking at your phone than at the tv screen. At first you browsed social media, but somehow you mustn’t have payed enough attention to your unconscious mind. You had miraculously landed on his Instagram, and when that didn’t entertain you anymore, you found yourself going back to your text messages with him. When you started at the shirtless picture he had sent you, you regretted not deleting it and forgetting about it right away. You wondered if he could ever feel the same way about you. You didn’t need any romantic feelings from him, in fact, you had no interest in a relationship at the moment. But you had never wanted someone this bad before and it was driving you crazy. So, before you could have stopped yourself, you were typing a message to him.

You: what r u doing??

H/N: do you miss me already?

H/N: ok do you really wanna know?

You: shut up you usually message me first!! and yes I do

H/N: I was about to jack off but you interrupted me

You almost choked on nothing when you read his message. Pretending you didn’t care, you replied quickly.

You: oh no am I killing the mood?

H/N: I didn’t say that

You: ????

H/N: don’t take this the wrong way but if you ever thought about sending me nudes again now would be the time

You: are u crazy?? are you actually asking me for nudes rn

H/N: it was worth a try ok let’s go back to being best friends who would never hook up

If you were freaking out about his previous messages, this one made you lose your mind completely. What was he saying? As confused as you were, you were also equally as sexually frustrated as he seemed to be. So, without a second thought, you chose the latest underwear picture you had taken and sent it to H/N.

You: that’s the most you’ll get…I won’t send complete nudes

You stared at the three dots indicating that he was writing a message. It felt like five minutes had passed when he finally replied.

H/N: fuck you’re so hot

And then he sent another shirtless picture. His bulge was prominent against his pants and the sight of it didn’t exactly help you with the pent-up frustration inside of you. But maybe it didn’t need to, because apparently, he felt the same way about you. You wanted to tell him about it. But there was no way you would be sexting your best friend at 11 pm, horny and frustrated. You knew you’d regret it and you’d only end up being embarrassed the next day. With no idea what to send him instead, you opted for simply waiting to see if he would say something. But he didn’t. Whilst waiting, you looked at his picture again. His jawline, his shoulders, his abs…and his boner straining against his sweatpants. For a moment you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Was he imagining it was you who was touching him when his hand wrapped around his cock? The more you let your thoughts run free, the worse your frustration became. And before you knew it, your hand was between your legs.

~~~

The next day you went about your duties, trying hard to pretend the previous day had been nothing but a fever dream. Luckily, you weren’t going to see him for another few days, so you could already practice an explanation of why sending nudes to each other had been a crazy idea. You worried about whether you could ever be the same around him after what had happened. But no matter how hard you tried to come up with a good reason why you should never even mention it again, you couldn’t. You were best friends who found each other hot. So what? Things could be worse. By nighttime, you had changed your mind. You were in the process of getting ready for sleeping, when your phone vibrated on your nightstand. His name lit up the screen.

H/N: you up?

You: not for long…whats up

H/N: I’m sorry for what I said yesterday about us not hooking up and so on…I was tipsy and you know my loose lips when I’m drunk

You: there’s nothing you need to apologize for

H/N: I was being weird and creepy…you’re my best friend

You: and you’re mine…that doesn’t stop me from finding you attractive

H/N: so I didn’t creep you out asking you for nudes?

You: I sent them to you, didn’t I… so what do u think

H/N: btw…thanks for that

You: likewise

…

H/N: so you’d do it again?

You: you’re not drunk now are you?

H/N: no just horny

You: dude I was about to go to sleep

If this had been a random guy you were occasionally talking to, you would have declined the request right away. You were tired and didn’t exactly feel too confident in your physical state. Nonetheless, you walked over to your mirror, pulled your shirt up until your bare breasts were almost exposed, and snapped a picture. Maybe it was the fact that you knew he’d return the favor and send you something back, or the immense trust you had in him. Posing in different ways, you took a few more pictures before you jumped back onto your bed. Impulsively, you chose the pictures you liked best and sent them to your best friend.

You: the things I do for you

H/N: fuck you look so good

You: have you always thought like that about me?

H/N: have I always found you hot?

You: yeah

H/N: I mean I never not found you hot

You: thanks I guess??

H/N: maybe we should have done this way earlier

You: agreed

Your eyes widened when he sent you a picture. He was still in his underwear, but his hand was wrapped around his visibly hard member outlined by the dark fabric. You had wanted to sleep, but somehow after looking at the photo for a little too long, you were wide awake. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you let your head imagine whatever came to your mind. Never before had you noticed how much you liked his hands. Or maybe it was a temporary thing, now that you were already thinking inappropriate thoughts. You imagined it was his fingers softly touching the inside of your thigh, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples. The first time you moaned his name quietly, your cheeks heated up. But the more you thought of him, and the more you allowed yourself to wish it was him between your thighs, the more natural his name sounded between your whimpers.

And the two of you didn’t stop there. You might haven’t had time to hang out with him for another week or so, but you were texting each other more than ever before. Almost every night, you sent pictures to each other. With every passing day and every time you came thinking about his body on top of yours, you became more comfortable. Your messages to each other turned dirtier with every day and every picture was a little riskier than the previous one. By the way you cried out his name every night, your neighbors must have thought you had gotten a new boyfriend. One that was exceptionally good in bed, by the sounds of it.

Now it was exactly one week and a day after you had first sent him a picture of you. You had just stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around your body as you entered your bedroom.

One could’ve thought you were going to be less horny, the more time you spent texting him about your inappropriate thoughts. It should have gotten less exciting at some point, shouldn’t it? To you, it was the complete opposite. He was all your thought about at night. So when you noticed your phone on your bed, you couldn’t stop your urge. You grabbed it, unlocked it and went straight to your messages with him.

You: please tell me you’re alone

H/N: yeah I am…do u need something?

Even though his text might have sounded innocent to anyone else, considering what you had done for each other all week long, you instantly got excited.

You: I have a present for you but since you’re not here I’ll unwrap it for you

H/N: I love presents

You had taken multiple photos. Starting from your with a towel covered body, you had slowly revealed more skin to him, until you had dropped the fabric completely. In the last picture you were covering your nipples with one hand across your chest, making sure your slightly parted lips were in the frame as well. After you had pressed ‘send’, you got comfortable on your bedsheets, not so patiently waiting for his reply. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind while you had been showering. Now you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know how dripping wet you already were.

H/N: this is what you do to me

You were surprised when you saw his message. He had attached a video. Up to that day, it had only been photos you had sent to each other. So, when you clicked the ‘play’ button, you almost felt nervous. But the nervousness changed into something wholly different within the first two seconds of the video. His hand was down his pants, clearly stroking himself. He wasn’t speaking, but even the simple sound of his breathing behind the camera made your head spin.

H/N: do you want more?

You: I wish you were actually here

A blink of an eye after you had sent the message, instant regret hit you. Had you crossed a line? There had never been serious talk of the two of you actually hooking up, although you surely had thought about it more than you wanted to admit.

H/N: me too

You sighed in relief. So he wasn’t thinking you were going too far.

H/N: but its late and we’ve got work tomorrow

You barely had time to even think about a reply. The sole fact that he was seriously considering coming over or letting you drive to his place right now only justified the saying “People want what they can’t get”.

You: you’re right…this will have to do

…

H/N: let me know if you need more

But you already had your hand between your legs, his name on the brink of falling off your lips.  

The next day, you were surprisingly focused on your work. Of course, you thought of him. He was your best friend, after all. Who would you have been if you didn’t wonder what he was up to or if you didn’t wish he was having a nice day? But that was about it. No dirty thoughts, no random sexual frustration at 2 in the afternoon. That was, until your phone vibrated in your pockets and you opened his message.

H/N: wanna hang out at my place tonight?

It was finally Friday. After over a week of not seeing him, you didn’t just want to meet him because you wanted him sexually. You missed his silly jokes and the way he made you feel careless after a stressful day. So, needless to say, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Were you just going to hang out, the way friends do? Were you even going to mention your texts to each other? Your nerves were going mad when you drove to his place in the evening. It was a weird feeling to have about your best friend, you had to admit. But then again, you had every right to after the past week.

When he opened the door for you, you didn’t feel half as awkward as you thought you would. His hug felt the way it always did, and his room still was like a second home to you.

“Do you wanna order take out?” he asked.

“What’s in your fridge?” you returned the question.

“If I’d have to guess I’d say two eggs, half a bottle of soda and some yogurt,” he said. You laughed, already pulling up an app to order some food.

“Take out it is,” you grinned, falling onto your stomach on his bed. He followed your example. His shoulder was touching yours while you tried hard to focus on scrolling through the different offers of meals. But your look was drawn to his hands too close to yours and from one moment to the other, your mind was flooded with sinful pictures. You thought of him here, in this very bed, jerking off to the thought of you. Taking pictures of himself so you could do the same. Too many times you had imagined your face buried in his pillows, letting him hear the way you had been crying his name all week long, being able to make him cum with your own body and feeling his lips on your skin. Was he thinking the same things right now? Was he also struggling to focus on the simplest tasks?

“You’ve been looking at that chicken for a while now. Are you gonna order it or not?” he asked, making fun of you. How were you going to sit here, waiting and then calmly eating your dinner as if nothing was different? When you didn’t reply, he grabbed your hands along with your phone, making you look at him. You couldn’t instantly read his expression. All you knew is that in six years of friendship, he had never once looked at you this way. Inevitably, your eyes went to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Aren’t we going to mention this whole nudes-sending situation at all?” he suddenly asked, grinning cheekily. “What? You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

“How badly I wanted you last night,” he said. His face was close to yours. If you only bent forward slightly, you could kiss him.

“As in…now you don’t want me anymore?” you asked. He chuckled.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to push you against the closest wall and make out with you the second you stepped into my house today?” he asked.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked, smirking and inching your lips closer to his. “Because I would have loved that.”

Instead of answering you, he finally leaned in to connect your lips. Within the first seconds you were moaning, and his tongue was on yours. You abandoned your phone on his sheets, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him. He groaned into your mouth when you pushed your hips against his, your crotch rubbing over his bulge. Judging by the way you both reacted, neither of you had plans to take this slow.

His hands wandered over your sides and to your ass, squeezing it a little. You only moaned again, your fingers getting busy with his button up shirt. Teasingly, he bit your lip while he pushed your shirt higher, goosebumps rising on the skin he touched. His breathing became heavier when you let your hands roam his chest, pushing the fabric of his open shirt to the side eagerly. When you rolled your hips over his bulge again, you felt his erection more prominently than before, making you smile to yourself. For a moment you pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, watching as you discarded your bra onto the floor.

“Me too,” you agreed. He had sat up as well, and you helped him remove his shirt eagerly. “I’ve been wondering what your hands feel like.”

At your words, he pulled you back on top of him, playing with your breasts softly. You reacted, leaning over him, so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered at the way his tongue pressed against your sensitive skin. He gave the same attention to the other side, his breath leaving behind a cold sensation where he had kissed you.

Then, you bent to his level again, lips meeting in a needy kiss. You let his tongue lead yours for a while. Meanwhile, your hands sneaked to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hissed into your mouth as you grabbed his length through his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“Are you still into biting?” you asked, referring to a late-night talk you had had in the past. He smirked, nodding. Softly, at first, you nibbled on his neck, occasionally licking and kissing him. You got the exact reaction you had expected when you bit him, not to harshly, but probably leaving a purple mark nonetheless. He moaned and threw his head back, only exposing more of his neck to you. As time went on, you made your way down his chest and his stomach, settling between his legs. As much as you enjoyed hearing his moans and attempts to make you hurry, you were just as impatient, if not worse.

In one go, you pulled down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so you could fully take the clothing off his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of him below you.

“If you had told me two weeks ago, I would be sucking your dick today, I would have called you a clown,” you chuckled.

“Look how the tables have turned,” he said, laughing with you. But his expression hardened the moment your hand wrapped around his length. You stroked him a few times, before lowering your head. Your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his shaft, until you opened your lips just enough to take his tip into your mouth. He cursed under his breath when you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” you asked, your hand continuously touching him.

“I like it maybe a little too much,” he said, only making you grin. His expression read pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips hung slightly agape.

“There’s no such thing as liking something too much,” you said. Purposely, you watched his face when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, tongue pressing flat against the tip. Steadily, you bobbed your head, your hand covering the rest of his length. His thighs were flexing under your hands and his stomach was rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you intently.

“This feels so much better when you do it,” he said, followed by a groan when his cock touched the back of your throat for a moment. Your hand was covered in your saliva by now, eyes tearing up a little bit, but you blinked the tears away quickly. Every time you pulled away a little, you made sure to swirl your tongue around the tip. Right away, you had noticed the way he hissed at that specific action. Again, he cursed under his breath and you made eye contact once more. His lips looked pink from where he had been biting them and his cheeks were slightly flushed a rosy color.

“Oh my god-,“ he moaned. “I’m so fucking close.”

You bobbed your head faster now. After another few seconds you pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand. The muscles on his stomach were tense and he had his hands balled to tight fists next to his body. You enjoyed his moans for a while longer, before you could feel him twitch in your hands. When he reached his high, he let his body fall back, his arms no longer able to hold himself up to watch you. The evidence of his pleasure spilled onto his abs and you slowly let your hand come to a rest. One of his hands was swung over his forehead as he breathed heavily. When you looked up at him again, he still seemed exhausted but was grinning from ear to ear.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he said, sitting up. At his words you realized once more how much you wanted him. Quickly, he cleaned himself up. As you rolled over to lay on your back next to his sitting figure, you yawned briskly, getting comfy in his sheets.

“You’re bored? If you want we can also just watch a movie, or if you feel like-,“ he said with raised eyebrows.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You sarcastically laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m open for whatever. Right after you’ve made me cum on this mattress.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, turning so he hovered over you. “I think we can arrange that.”

He went straight to kissing your stomach and hips, while he unzipped your pants for you. His kisses tickled you a little, but the sensation was quickly forgotten by how close his hand was to where you wanted him most. In order to let him take off your pants, you lifted your hips a little. When he had thrown your pants aside, he couldn’t hide the cocky grin on his face at the sight of your underwear.

“This looks familiar…where have I seen these before?” he asked innocently, placing his hand on the material. You flinched a little when his fingers hovered over your center. It was a fleeting touch, but the lack of attention had made you needier than you would have thought.

“Imagine I hadn’t accidentally sent you that first picture,” you said.

“I don’t even want to imagine that,” he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh a little. Abruptly, your laugh turned into a whimper when he pressed one of his fingers against your covered clit.

“I get that you’re in no rush anymore, but I’m not gonna lie, I am,” you said, wriggling against his hand. He chuckled again but seemed to obey your request. His hand slid into the hem of your underwear, fingers instantly coated in your juices. In response, you only hummed contently when he curled his digits against your clit. Within seconds you relaxed into his touch. You put one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes for a while. Now and then, he teased your core by almost pushing his fingers inside of you, but then not doing so. As frustrating as it was, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. With skill, he rolled your clit between his digits. His free hand pulled on your underwear slightly, but not quite enough for it to come off. You whined at his teasing, looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He watched your expression for a while, probably enjoying the fact that he finally had the real you underneath him, instead of having to stare at some photos on his cellphone. So he finally obliged, making you feel empty when he pulled his hand out of your soaked panties, but simultaneously thankful.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this within the last week,” he said. Then, he lowered his head and took your clit into his mouth. You had only opened your mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be deleted from your brain before they had time to come out, replaced by empty curse words. He didn’t waste any time in taking it slow, but you couldn’t have minded less. When he inserted to of his digits into you, your toes curled in pleasure and relief. With the way you whimpered desperately whenever he curled them against your walls, he had found your sweet spot in almost no time.

For more than a week you had been imagining, demanding for his touch, so deeply that now you could barely think straight when you finally got what you wanted. His tongue could do so much better than your own fingers could ever satisfy you. It was the unpredictability that made this so much more enticing than when you touched yourself. Would he slow down for a while, giving your breathing time to calm down, only to suck on your swollen clit feverishly out of nowhere? Would he curl his fingers inside of you almost painfully slowly, or would he almost pull them out completely, only to slide them right back into your core, until your vision felt so blurry you had to close your eyes? The more you thought about how good he made you feel, the quicker you felt your orgasm approach. One of his hands softly stroked over your belly, a strong contrast to the way your insides seemed to tie themselves into a tight knot that took up all your attention.

“Oh my god- please don’t stop,” you only moaned. Of course he didn’t. He only hummed against your center, only adding to how incredible you felt. As much as you loved watching him between your legs, there was no force that could have kept your eyes from shutting anymore. Your back arched off the sheets and your hands tightened in pleasure when the familiar feeling washed over your mind. You whimpered and struggled hard to keep your legs from closing around his head. For a few seconds you were blinded by the bliss, until your sensitivity began to set in. You softly pushed his head with your fingers in his hair, and he slowed down and drew back.

It took you a while to come down and until your breathing had regained its normality. Your eyelids fluttered open, while he plopped down next to you. He swung one of his arms around your waist, an action he had done multiple times in the past – only now neither of you was wearing clothes.

“That was amazing,” you said. “And here I thought I’d forever regret sending you that photo.”

He chuckled. “Agreed. So, what do you say? Are we able to focus on what to order for takeout now?”

You nodded and laughed, hoping this instance wouldn’t be the last time this happened between you two.

#optional bias #optional bias smut #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #bts smut #got7 smut #day6 smut #stray kids smut #txt smut #nct smut #wayv smut #seventeen smut #onf smut #oneus smut #monsta x smut #btob smut #pentagon smut #the boyz smut #onlyoneof smut #vixx smut #a.c.e smut #cravity smut #exo smut #ikon smut #golden child smut #imfact smut #ateez smut #ab6ix smut #astro smut

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

How do you think companions would react if a one night stand resulted in the miracle (read: horror) of pregnancy

(Idk if this is supposed to be with sole or not but I hope y'all enjoy!! If I didn't do this right, please correct me and I'll happily redo this!!)

Cait:

•Would be absolutely and completely horrified.

•This is her worst nightmare come true. Of course, she knew something like this had a chance of happening..but she didn't really think it would happen to her.

•Honestly? Probably falls into a depression. She can't bring herself to terminate the pregnancy, yet she feels miserable knowing that she doomed another child to go through the same hell she went through. She doesn't think she'll be any better...

•Doesn't even know what to do with sole..but probably will avoid them like the plague.

Curie:

•Doesn't quite grasp the magnanimity of the situation until much later. It's not because she is naive, because she isn't in that respect- it's more or less because she doesn't realize how much her body is going to change..or how much it COULD change.

•Feels rather..neutral towards it. She'd care for the child with every fibre of her being, and yet there is still a sense of disappointment knowing she'll soon be unable to spend as much time with her studies as she could've.

•Would try her best to establish some form of a relationship with sole- regardless of what that meant.

Danse:

•Would probably pass out as soon as the news is broken to him.

•Fully owns up to his part he played in the creation of the child and assumes full responsibility. He is by no means ready to settle down from his position as a Paladin, but he will do most anything in his power to be a decent "father" to the babe and provide for them, and at least help the woman he impregnated as much as he can. Only downfall is that his obligation to duty will come first..this will of course be much easier if sole so happens to be a member of the brotherhood as well.

•Would've preferred to have been in a more committed relationship before conception, but he understands there is nothing he can do about it now. Besides, maybe he can form at least some type of bond with the mother over time...

Deacon:

•Completely mortified.

•Deacon is torn into tiny little shreds whenever he figures out what happened. He knows he could never be a good father to any child, and frankly the thought of even trying makes his eyes go bleary from tears threatening to spill.

•Runs as far away as he can from the "problem", but eventually finds himself unable to stay away forever. He can't help but check in with the child periodically, just outside of view..outside looking in with a peculiar intense yearning that he tries as best as he can to ignore.

Gage:

•His initial reaction would be to be pissed. Not at the woman he impregnated, no, he wouldn't. The rage would be entirely directed at himself. Shit like this happens all the time with raiders, why would he think he'd be some miraculous exception? He was no better than any of them, that's for damn sure. Problem is, he can't make himself feel entirely fine with leaving the kid high and dry- he does, but it doesn't come second nature to him.

•Feels some strange obligation to check in with the kid, but's that's about as much of himself he can give. Just the thought of making it "right" makes him feel dizzy. He can't abandon a whole way of life- his way of life- for this "accident".

•Deep down though, Gage regrets not ever trying to connect with his mysterious accidental daughter/son.

Hancock:

•Wouldn't even think it's possible and might make the hasty decision to tell sole she's out of her damn mind.

•However when the evidence is presented to him and cannot be shaken, he nearly loses his shit. Not necessarily in a bad way either- just give him a moment..or day..to process and he'll come back to sole with a game plan.

•He's gonna respect whatever sole wants to do, but if given the chance- Hancock would handle this whole surprise parenting gig with unexpected grace. Just...the kid is going to have to visit in Goodneighbor.

Macready:

•Really thinks that whatever higher being is in control is playing a horrible joke on him.

•Is in disbelief for a while. He already has one child he can't even properly care for, now another one?? At least the first one came from marriage too- this one though? Oh dang.

• Occasionally wishes sole wouldn't have told him, but knows he must own up to his "accident" and be the father the child deserves....

Maxson:

•Is in utter shock whenever presented with the news. He doesn't even know what to feel- it's just a huge clusterfuck of emotions.

•On one hand, at least he finally reproduced and doesn't have to worry about being the only Maxson left alive so long as sole carries through with the pregnancy. (Don't worry, he'll provide care via brotherhood resources too if you so choose...)

•On the other hand though....Maxson now has to worry about how raising his children will be, his reputation, and finally..the harsh reality of knowing his shot at "family" ain't gonna work.

Piper:

•All bets are off. She'd lose her shit.

Preston:

•Would almost gain the sense of a renewed purpose, if you will.

•Really, really would've preferred for the child to have been conceived in a more.."steadfast" relationship (not just a one night stand) but regardless, Preston takes full accountability for his part he played and is more than willing to get to know sole so he can help her through this process.

X6-88:

•Much like Hancock, he doesn't even think he CAN do something like that. The surprise is welcomed with an alarming display of emotion.

•He goes through pure bewilderment, confusion, anxiousness, and terror all in the span of an hour once told.

#fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #fo4 companions #danse #fallout companions #curie #elder maxson #deacon