#god i have so many thoughts about how lucky jean was that he never got to touch base with ppl who knew him Before

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Modern Headcannons- Pregnancy

@cantchoosejust1​ This is for you! >:)

Just some modern Arthur and how anything related to pregnancy would work, so Female reader! 

Warnings!: NSFW 18+ themes, probs gonna have a little bit of smut considering ya know, pregnancy.

Lets GO

Okay straight from the get go, let’s get something straight.

Before you and Arthur are married you obviously had sex

and while you both did your best to be as safe as possible, getting tested, wearing condoms, birth control, the works

there were still some mishaps.

You forgot to take birth control

he got a little excited and so did you so you didn’t really stop to put on protection

So 

There were a couple of times where you two thought you were going to prematurely be parents.

and considering this is before you’re married the two of you get a little nervous.

Not like 

“Oh god we’re having a child out of wedlock” kind of nervous

but like

oh god

this wasn’t the plan

kind of nervous.

But

in all reality those few scares were nothing more than scares.

Though every time you’d have a scare Arthur was nothing but supportive. Worried he wouldn’t be a good dad, or that he’d mess something up, or hell afraid that you’d have the kid and leave.

He wasn’t completely ready to be a dad, not after everything that happened with his ex and Issac, who sadly passed

But he knew if it was gonna be with you he was gonna be okay.

Now

After you get married

and you don’t have a kid cause the scares were just scares...

The two of you will have to sit down and really talk about it.

How many kids do you want? When should you start trying? 

Do you want kids at all?

When the two of you decide you do want kids

its off from there

you just decide that no matter what the two of you will never be particularly ready for kids, no one is, so it’s best to just let nature take its course, not to try and force it

so the only change in the two of your lives is stopping your pills and you don’t have to spend cash on condoms anymore.

You and Arthur are both really surprised that you haven’t gotten pregnant before.

I mean

the man has

a breeding kink

i mean

god

One night, you and him go out drinking together, and you go to a small bar in town, hardly any people there, but you went with John and Abigail on their date night 

and my god

Arthur wasn’t dressed fancy by any means

but 

jesus

did he look good.

Still smeared with grease from working on cars all day, a tank top on showing off all the tattoos on his arms, and tight fitting jeans that framed those massive thighs of his just right

You literally apologized to John and Abigail and made him take you home.

He was confused at first but when the two of you get in the truck and he starts to worriedly ask you how you’re doing you simply tell him “drive” 

He does and when you hit the road you put your hair in a ponytail and get him worked up.

You were lucky you were on the back roads, that man was swerving all over the road, trying to use one hand to guide your head and the other to drive.

By the time you get home he’s got a stain on his pants and a second hard on

He takes the lead from there 

and let me tell you

after you literally pried him away from a bar to show to him just how turned on you got from him? 

He’s completely overcome

He nearly kicked the door in when you got him, and he carried you to the bedroom, his hands gripping your thighs without remorse. 

And when he has you on the bed 

jesus

he’s fantastic

He gets you worked up easy, I mean, you were already, but he makes sure you’re good and ready and then things get hot and heavy.

He’ll fuck you until you’re screaming, begging.

Your legs quivering and tears coming from your eyes

and the whole damn time he’s got that fucking smirk of his on his face, and that deep voice praising you, telling you what a good girl you are.

Not only that but when he’s close to finishing, and you’re close to finishing what has to be like your fifth climax, if you wrap your legs around him so he can’t pull out and tell him to fill you up he’ll bust right there.

The thought of you taking all of him, and he means all of him, turns him on to no end.

To know that a part of him is in you

goddamn

and hell

when he’s finished if he pulls out and his seed doesn’t exactly want to stay where it’s meant to be, he’ll gently push it back into you, muttering “Atta girl” as you whimper from the feeling.

After a night like that?

You had to be pregnant

I mean

come on

You even did that whole put your legs up to help it move down thing

which

you were exhausted so Arthur actually did it, holding your ankles with one hand and trying to slip boxers on with the other.

It was very entertaining for your lustfilled mind.

So

Within the next few weeks

About a month and a half later

you start to get really sick

that good old morning sickness

and the tests had been coming up negative so you’d thought that it hadn’t worked

but 

out of curiosity 

you took another one at work, one that you’d bought on your lunch break, and when you check it and it comes back positive you nearly scream at the top of your lungs with joy.

You’re bursting to tell Arthur when you get home and the whole drive back to the house after work you’re singing with the windows down.

You head straight to his shop, you don’t even think about going home, and you smile happily to see that both Charles and John are also in the shop

He’ll greet you with a smile and a kiss and ask you what has you so chipper.

“Arthur I’ve got news!” 

“What’s that Darlin’? You finally get that promotion?” 

“Better!” 

“Uh...A bonus?” 

“Nope!”

“Aw shit, I ain’t ever gonna get....Holy shit you’re pregnant ain’t you?” 

“You’re gonna be a dad Arthur.” 

“Holy Shit! I’m gonna be a dad!” 

He nearly bursts with joy himself and he grabs Charles and John by the shoulders, laughing with that hearty laugh of his, and then you.

He kisses you so deeply its as if he’s never kissed you before.

He’s never been so excited to call Hosea in his life, he’s practically pacing as he wipes his greasy hands on a towel and grabs his phone 

He’s got Hosea on speed dial and as soon as he picks up the phone he tells him to find Dutch too

Then

He simply

shouts

“Y/N’S Pregnant!” 

Then from the speaker phone 

Dutch

“That’s my boy!”

“DUTCH!” 

“I”VE BEEN WAITING FOR A GRANDSON FOR YEARS”

“WHAT ABOUT JACK?”

“JACK DOESN’T LIKE ME!”

“THEN DON’T BE A DICK”

The two of them argue for a while but in the end congratulate you.

From that moment on, throughout the entirety of your pregnancy Arthur is INCREDIBLY protective over you

I mean

even in the early stages

You aren’t allowed to lift heavy things

like

you’re two months in 

not allowed to lift anything over ten pounds

Arthur’s rules

If you wanna go out he wants to go to.

If you don’t let him, he’ll understand, but he’s gonna call you at least once every hour to make sure nothing happens to you or the baby

He drives you everywhere if he’s able.

That way if a crash happens he can blame himself for anything that happens to you or the baby rather than you blaming yourself for something happening to the baby

He reads up on anything thats baby related

prenatal

postnatal

hospital procedures

the best baby things to buy

the best cribs

bibs

highchairs

pack n’ plays

toys

binkies

bottles

anything he can get his oily mechanic hands on

he spends like 

95 percent of his time on his phone now doing research and keeping notes

when you’re overcome with morning sickness he’s right there holding your hair and offering you saltines

when your cravings come

no matter how late or how early

hes there

“Arthur”

“Hmh?”

“I want thin mints”

“Ain’t even girl scout season.”

“Arthurrrrrr I want cookiesss.”

*Deep sigh followed by the sound of a very large man leaving his very comfortable bed to get his very hot wife some very good cookies from the nearest open store.*

“Arthur! Can we stop at a Rally’s?”

“There ain’t a Rally’s within like fifteen miles of us, that’s like me takin’ you all the way to Texas Roadhouse Darlin’.”

“oh...okay.”

“An hour ain’t that long of a drive.” 

*Puts on your favorite country music because if you cry he will cry.*

He demands that the baby is gonna be a boy

you think it’s a girl

the joke is on the both of you when you go to your fifth or sixth month check up and

BAM fuckin

twins

apparently somewhere on Arthur’s biological side he’s got twins cause now you do

And it is offical

there’s a girl and a boy

HE PANICS

He was ready for one but now two?

GOD

you on the other hand

you just think 

“Im already huge im just gonna get bigger”

Arthur nearly slaps you but instead gives you an angry glare

he goes straight back to research, considering he now has an entirely different set of information to understand

all the twin things

now hes gotta buy double of things

His whole family is chipping in too

not just the two of you, everyone is absolutely PREPARED

for these babies

and obviously 

Karen and the other girls throw a shower for you

which you cry at

because

i mean

hormones

ya know

and you end up telling them all how much you love them

and appreciate them and

and

*Crying*

Literally have so much stuff theres no room in that tiny little ranch house, and it already needed upgraded anyway

so 

Arthur inlists the help of his brothers, and his fathers

Bill, Javier, John, Charles, Lenny, Sean, Hell Dutch even actually lifts a finger and you get to sit back and watch as they build a huge add on to your house

That was a day and a half

it was hot, so you were suffering with a massive stomach 

but 

Arthur was practically stripping for you so that was fantastic

however

not fantastic for him

because after everyone left you practically jumped his bones

I mean

you couldn’t do a lot

but he got the vibes

he was nervous

i mean

theres babies in there

but like

he’s never seen you so fuckin riled up and the fact that you were pregnant and STILL wanted him??

He couldn’t resist

I mean

You were too big to do the normal stuff but 

You found your ways to be sensual with each other

He found a way

The two of you on your side for slow evenings, behind you with gentle thrusts, very slow, and not exactly hot so much as intimate

but

HOT

He just fucks you from behind.

I mean

you can still bend, just don’t lay on your stomach lmao

Doggie style for the win

He’ll run his fingers over your pregnant belly and tell you just how beautiful you look to him with his kids in there

To him

never been a more beautiful thing in his life

Its on one of these very intimate nights, when you’re heavily pregnant, I mean

like

nine months

that your water breaks

you’d both passed out, but you woke up with just that

feeling

and you shook him awake

to which he responded with

“Darlin’ please, I gotta refill I can’t go again just yet-” With a very groggy sleepy wave your way

only for you to slap his hand gently

“It’s time you dork, I’m having these babies whether you like it or not.” 

HE 

IS

AWAKE

literally it takes all of five seconds and he’s slipped off the bed, onto the floor with a thud and then he’s up onto his knees looking at you with his hair all disheveled and eyes wide.

“It’s really time?”

“It’s time.”

He literally wanted to carry you to the car

but you wouldn’t let him throw his back out just because he wanted to do everything

so you waddle to the car and he’s rushing around, grabbing prepacked bags, making sure he doesn’t miss a single one

He grabs reading material

your favorite blanket

the keys to the new minivan you made him get.

and he throws everything in and rushes you to the nearest hospital

he’s cursing the whole time he drives, trying to figure out how to use the newer technology in the van

it has bluetooth for your phone

and he can’t for the life of him figure out how to use it to call 

So he finally says fuck it and asks you politely to call everyone

which 

you just call dutch

because he’s a gossip

and he answers angry at first but then is like

oh shit

its 

3 am

she’s doin the shit

and then he’s like “We’ll be there!” 

and from there he hangs up and he’ll go about getting literally the entire van der linde group rounded up

you get to the hospital easily

Arthur pretty much attempts to get you the best room available

and does everything in his power

hes a little mean to nurses but then immediately apologizes because hes just so nervous that he’s gonna fuck up but all the nurses are incredibly kind and explain that they understand

and that he’s not the worst they’ve seen and thank him for at least taking the time to apologize for his momentary rudness.

Eventally everyone is in the waiting room and Arthur has to run back and forth to give updates

he is running on pure spite, anxiety, fear, and all of the expresso he can get his hands on

Contractions

jesus

he feels so bad

he holds your hand 

and he doesn’t give a shit how hard you squeeze he wants you to be okay

he’d take away all your pain if he could

Every scream literally almost makes him cry

he tells you that you’re doing so good, and that you’re gonna be the absolute best mother anyone could ask for 

and that he’s gonna be by your side for every up and down

So when you get one baby out he’s relieved 

but then remembers that you have another to push out

and that theres still a placenta that you have to push out

and so

He literally doesn’t leave your side

kissing your forehead, squeezing your hand, doing whatever you need him to do

and then

you finally get everything done

you’re exhausted

you’re tired

but

you have two beautiful children

it took you thirteen hours

but they’re there and it was worth it

the boy

you name Issac, with Arthur’s permission

He literally cries in thank you for that.

The girl you name after your mother, which he was happy to agree to

you think the two look like him

but he swears that they look like you

You can see his nose in them, and his lips

but he thinks that they have your lips

they definitely have his eyes, both of them strikingly blue

they were both born with full heads of hair too, just the same color as Arthur’s 

When everyone else meets them 

it’s just a room full of crying adults

they all praise you for doing such a good job at giving birth and they cry at how beautiful your children are

and eventually Arthur shoos them out 

and the two of you sit and hold the twins, smiles on your face, you finally had the start of your already huge family.

You couldn’t be happier

and Arthur?

That man has never smiled any wider than he did when he was taking a picture of you, his beautiful wife, and his two wonderful twins laying on your chest

Later you see him change his phone screen to that picture, it’s his lockscreen and his homescreen, and your profile picture in his contacts followed my (My love)

He’s sappy like that

:) 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan headcannons #rdr2 #rdr2 community #Rdr2 drabble #Rdr2 Headcannons #pregancy #pregnant reader #arthur morgan pregnancy headcannons

[hangon-silvergirl]

getting away with something (also available on ao3)

words and art by @hangon-silvergirl

Eddie and Chrissy burst out of the courthouse doors and into the late afternoon sunshine, hand-in-hand, breathless and beaming. She's his wife (Wife! Wife! Wife!) and he's her husband (HOLY SHIT), and Eddie almost feels like they're getting away with something. And maybe they are! As Chrissy turns to him with her megawatt smile stretching from ear-to-ear, Eddie doesn't resist the dramatic urge that bubbles into his brain; he spins Chrissy out and away from him, twirling her back into his arms and pulling her tight, reveling in the way she slots so perfectly against his chest. She's an eighteen-year-old, spur-of-the-moment bride—dolled up in a silky, lacey, poufy dress that she'd found at the thrift store—and she sighs into him like there's no question that this is where she's meant to be. And maybe it is.

Comparatively Eddie is sporting his least gaudy button-up and the only jeans he has with no holes in them. (And not that clothes matter much; he'd have married Chrissy naked if he'd had to.) "Shall we go home, Mrs. Munson?" he asks her, bursting at the seams with pleasure, high on this moment and on the promise in their wide-open future. "Yes please, Mr. Munson," she replies with a giggle. Another dramatic urge takes hold of him, and so Eddie leans into Chrissy and scoops her up bridal style. She makes a little eek! of surprise as he does so, then glows with pleasure once she realizes what he's done. Eddie carries her down the steps, out of the bubble of the last hour, and back into mundane Hawkins, where the van is sitting by a busted parking meter. Passersby are already double-taking at the sight of them, their expressions melting from casual indifference to blatant shock at lightspeed. They both spot Mrs. O'Donnell gaping at them from the mailbox two doors down, hands frozen mid-stamp-lick. Eddie and Chrissy wave at her, and, amazingly, blinking rapidly like she's been reset, the old crone waves back. Eddie sets Chrissy down lightly then kisses her desperately, absolutely nothing able to wipe the smiles off of both of their probably dumb, totally lovesick faces. After they break apart, they climb into the van. "N.I.B" by Black Sabbath blares appropriately out of the tinny speakers as Eddie starts the ignition. They've got aluminum cans and a cardboard sign proclaiming them Just Married attached to the bumper, and as they start driving away, they can hear the merry jingle-clink of former Chef Boyardee smacking off of the pavement as Ozzy proclaims I will give you those things you thought unreal. As the Munson's (THE MUNSONS! Smack that shit on a Christmas card!) peel out of downtown and head back to Forest Hills (drawing more eyes and discombobulated attention as they go), Eddie thinks that he and Chrissy won't have to post a marriage announcement in the Hawkins Post; they're like their own little unconventional parade, and everyone and their mother (including Chrissy's, ha!) will know what they've done before suppertime. Chrissy reaches across the center console and threads their fingers together, looking at him like he's blessed and unquantifiable and good enough to eat. Which, Jesus Christ, how is he such a lucky son-of-a-bitch? Eddie's never been happier to know that he's about to become a scandalous source of gossip; has never been more determined to disprove the assumptions that he knows are coming. With this perfect-for-him woman in the passenger seat, and the whole of forever in front of them to conquer for better or worse, the inevitable circle-jerk of narrowminded opinions doesn't really phase him, because they hold no weight. No matter how many idiots out there end up tutting and sighing and saying that he and Chrissy don't have what it takes, and what a shame... (Eddie squeezes Chrissy's hand, feels her wedding ring dig against his fingers, and thanks the universe for the gift of her; swears to God, if he's even out there, that Eddie will never take her for granted.) They do.

#hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer fanart #hellcheer #eddissy #eddissy fanfic #eddissy fanart #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #my stories #my art #hellcheer fanfic: getting away with something

[phr0gg13]

Can you do an angsty Will fic? Where he breaks down from being touch starved (he became used to giving hugs than getting hugs after being thrust into a role of leadership and having to act like he's always okay for his siblings) and Nico comforts him? It's kinda specific, so its completely your choice! im just really desperate for some Will angst

Pls no smut! and possibly Will X Nico! Thank youu <33

Ahhhh!! I love Will and Nico soooo muchhh, the minute I saw this request I already made a photo thingy for the fic and Im so excited!

Will Solace x Nico Di Angelo

Warnings: Angst/comfort, mentions of negative self image, and also infirmary stuff!

Will was tired to say the least, as the head counselor of the Apollo cabin he had a lot on his plate. Not only did he have to help out the new Apollo children but also the current ones. He felt like a mom at times, struggling to stop all her kids from accidentally dying. Oh and he also was one of the head healers at the infirmary. He spent all his time helping others but no one ever really helped him. Of course he had friends and of course he had his siblings but none of them ever really picked up on his stress or negative thoughts. The dark circles under his eyes went unnoticed as well as the constant yawning.

Will had managed to get away from the busy day he was having. Opting to chill near the strawberry fields. He even picked a few to snack on, safe to say he knew this break wouldn't be long. Camp Half-Blood seemed to have a dramatic increase in new campers, Will didn't understand how the gods could have so many kids all the time, this meant that he had a lot more to do. A Lot more people to show around, explain things to, and also a lot more children that end up injuring themselves.

He always kicked himself mentally when he sighed at the new campers asking him for help. He was supposed to be a bright eyed, happy-go-lucky Apollo kid. Yet he wasn't happy, he was stressed and in a constant state of self loathing. Will felt water drops on his hands, looking up at the sky he saw it was still bright and sunny out. He was crying. In the middle of the Strawberry fields. He felt stupid. He was fine and a little work wasn't the end of the world. He tried to find the motivation to get up and go back to the infirmary but he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to the bloody noses, and the bruises, and the whining.

He didn't want to. He just wanted to stay put in the fields. Streams of tears came out of his eyes, the stress of everything was too much. He put his head against the tree he was sitting next to and let himself cry. This was fine, he was fine. No one was around anyways.... Or so he thought.

"Hey you okay Sunshine?" Will knew whos voice it was. Nico Di Angelo, a child of Hades and someone Will was quite enamored with. Will quickly wiped his face, "Yeah, I'm great... It's just really hot out, some sweat got in my eyes." Will resonded sheepishly. He wasnt trying to lie to Nico, he just didnt want to burden him with his problems. "You sure? Cause from where I'm standing it seems like you are hiding in the strawberry fields crying..." Nico sat down next to Will. Will looked at Nico, who was wearing some black jeans and a black shirt (He never wore his camp half blood shirt) with a skull on it. He gave Nico a small smile, "I'm just stressed I guess...". Nico nodded and looked around the camp. Everyone was doing their own thing, they didn't notice the pair at all. "You do alot for the camp, I'm not suprised you're stressed. You should talk to Chiron about some time off or something..." Nico's suggestion was nice but Will couldn't stand the thought of not being useful. He didn't want to be dead weight. "I'm fine. I just...." Will couldnt find the words he was going to say. Nico faced Will and gave him a concerned look. "Please stop overworking yourself. It's not healthy and you're supposed to be a doctor or whatever..." Nico joked with the blonde. "I'm not a doctor, I'm just a kid they put in charge of the health of countless other kids..." Will sighed. "Yeah, but you're damn good at your job, Solace." Nico's compliment made Will's cheeks burn. "Thanks..." Will looked away from Nico trying to hide his blush.

A horn could be heard in the distance, it was dinner time. Will sighed, he would have to go back to everyone, put on a smile and pretend all over again. The moment with Nico was just a moment. It wasn't permanent. "Guess it's time to eat..." Will sat up and got on his own two feet. "Thanks for talking to me Nico." He started to walk away until he felt a hand grab his wrist. "Wait... You can sit with me if you'd like. The hades table is always empty..." Will smiled at Nico and nodded his head. "Yeah, I'd like that alot Nico." Nico gave Will a small smile and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Will. Nico had his head against Will's chest considering he was a few inches shorter than Will.

Once again tears threatened to leave Will's eyes, but for a different reason this time. He returned Nico's hug and placed his chin atop of his head. The two stayed there for a few minutes. Just enjoying the embrace of the other. That night at dinner Nico and Will talked on and on about everything. Nico even convinced Will to talk to Chiron about his stress. Safe to say there were a lot more moments in the strawberry fields for Will and Nico.

#percy jackson fanfiction #will solace #wilco #solangelo #nico di angelo #nico x will

[sleepdeprivedsimp101]

Polnareff x Reader (One shot)

Okay, so I´ve always said that this man is like my husband and husband material. So not only do I always say that he's the ONE, I thought, how would it go down if he proposed to the self-insert character?

Warnings: It's literally just fluff.

Word count: 547

It's been about a good full year since you and Polnareff have been dating and a lot has happened. One day you were just a normal 19-year-old just trying to get through life, then the next year you´re 20 years old stand user that helped the other crusaders defeat a 100-year-old vampire, and then ended up dating the man you love most.

Now you are in Paris at Jean's beautiful apartment that looks like a small piece of a mansion. 

And wake up to the sun shining through the curtains hitting your back and onto Jean´s beautiful rested squishy sleepy face in his pillow.

You smile to yourself at the thought of how lucky you were to even end up with him. 

Tired but filled with enough energy to go get ready to make coffee at 7 in the morning. You place a kiss on Jean´s cheek and head to the bathroom. 

Heard muffled noise from the sleeping man, not understanding exactly what he said. 

Ẅalkin into the bathroom with a big yawn rubbing your eyes. Until you noticed something on your left hand. Taking a good look at your ring finger, rested a rose gold diamond ring. 

My heart nearly stopped and hyperventilation took over. 

¨wha-- Jean?!¨

Turning around only to be met with a tall figure leaning on the door frame smiling at you with one of the most genuine smiles you´ve ever seen him make.

“What's this?”

You asked him freaking out 

“Can I get a better look at that?”

Not knowing if this was real or not he gently took your hand and traced his fingers around the ring, laughing to himself a little. He looks into your confused eyes.

“It's a perfect fit.”

“Polnareff-”

he cuts you off by placing a finger on your lips to silence you. 

He holds your left hand with both of his big hands. As he kept eye contact with you, he slowly got down on one knee and started crying a bit.

Your jaw started to drop as you put a hand on your mouth, and then tears started to well up in your eyes.

“(Y/N), this past year with you has been an amazing adventure, you´ve made my heart feel so many things that I´ve never felt before, you´re always so full of amazing surprises...and I love you so dearly. I don't want any of those things to ever end and so with that, will you, Y/n L/n, be by my side for more adventures, and marry me?”

Pausing for a moment, then letting the tears fall, you knew exactly what to do.

“Yes.”

“REALLY?”

“YESSS!”

Now having the biggest smile on both of your faces you both start to laugh as you each place a hand on both cheeks of each other and kiss patiently, smiling in the kiss as you both laugh again. Then Jean picks you up and spins you around you then rapping your legs and arms around him still kissing his forehead as he keeps yelling

“OH MY GOD YES YES YES SHE SAID YES AAAAA!”

Laughing at his comment as you also yell

“I KNOW, WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A BIG WEDDING, BIG HOUSE, LOTS OF KIDS, AND GROW OLD TOGETHER, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!”.

The end <3

#polnareff fanfic #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff #polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jjba fanfic #sdc #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba one shots #jjba part 3 #writing #my writing #fanfiction #polnareff oneshot #polnarref headcanon #jjba

[c0ffinshit]

Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome (The Grabber x Reader) Part Four

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

A/N: cat’s outta the bag! this was the secret smut i’ve been working on! so... enjoy!

this chapter once again is dedicated to my lovely wife alax, thank you for your ongoing support and love!

word count: 2,486

warnings: talks of past voyerism, fingering, oral sex (female), degradation, slight fluff at the start, regret, mentions of stalking, semi-dubcon, begging

Months passed since Albert left me that day. I hadn’t even seen him around town until October 19th. It was a few days before an old friend’s birthday; I was desperate for a gift. I asked everyone I knew for ideas, but those became dead-ends quickly. My friend, being the oldest, loved reading. War of The Worlds, IT, Pride and Prejudice, and many more. I never saw them without a book near them or in their hand. It was always funny to me, in a weird sort of way. I knew there was a bookstore about three miles away from my house. So, I put on my good walking shoes, opened my door, and walked down. Once I got there, I opened the door, my bell-bottom jeans sweeping against the dark, hardwood floors. That was what alerted him to the door. He looks at me with his cold, lifeless eyes and just stares. I hadn’t quite noticed him, but I could feel him lurking.

"Excuse me? Can you help me find a book?" I asked the store clerk, almost in a whisper. The place was as quiet as a mouse; only soft jazz played as the clerk got up from his seat and showed me around the fiction. I looked until finally, Misery by Stephen King. She had been searching for a copy with a specific cover. And lucky for me, it was right in front of my face.

"Rough night?" a voice behind me inquires, looking at the book’s cover in my hands, his hands placed neatly behind him.

I turn around to reveal a tall and disheveled Albert.

"Al, you look…well," I said, my eyes looking up and down his body. His shirt was covered in old stains, and his pants were riddled with holes. Albert looked as if he had never slept a day in his life.

"Yeah, and you look amazing as always." He said his gaze sharpening.

Al seemed off. I mean, he was always off. But he seemed frantic, itchy, for lack of a better word.

"Listen, I know you’re probably still reeling about what happened a few months ago, and I want to tell you that…I’m sorry for getting mad at you like that," Al said as he started to back away from me, "I was angry, is all."

I look at him blankly. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to rehash what happened the last time he tried to apologize. All the yelling and hurt feelings. Those memories came flooding back to me.

"You are so lucky I hate you right now," I said, walking away from the door.

The Grabber places the daisies neatly on the mat, "And I’m so lucky to have you feel what I’ve felt for years."

I blink, trying to bring myself back to the present. But all it took was Albert to say something to carry me back to the bookstore at the end of October.

"So? Do you forgive me?" he said, his pinky finger moving to mine.

Maybe it was something I still secretly longed for. To feel Albert’s hands run along my legs as if he was kneeling before me like I was his goddess. Maybe he had finally changed a new leaf, becoming the man I always longed he’d be. But a thought crept into my mind: Nobody wants to admit that shit.

"Well…" I started, still trying to figure out if I should also apologize or stand my ground.

"You know you don’t have to forgive me, right? I was merely saying sorry." Al said, playing with the rings on his fingers.

What a thought. To feel The Grabber’s fingers deep inside, hitting your g-spot over again as he tells you how good you’re taking it.

I shake my head, "No, no, it's alright. I do forgive you… for the most part."

Albert smiles, the gentle smile I used to love. "That’s good. Good girl."

God, he must know what he’s doing to me.

"I don’t know about good," I replied shyly.

"You’re good to me. Anyone good to me is good in my book." His smile suddenly forms into a smirk.

He fully knows.

"Listen, I have to buy this book, or the employees will think I’m loitering. So…talk soon?" I said, pointing it in the direction of the now-sleeping clerk.

"I’ll come by your place. How does that sound?" His voice is quiet and smooth.

"That sounds great!"

I will admit; I got a little too excited to see a man I’m supposed to hate. As I went to one of the many cash registers, I could feel Albert’s eyes scanning my body as he stood near one of the many shelves. Uncomfortable wasn’t even a word I thought of when it came to that; erotic seems more like it. To feel his dark eyes following along the curves of my natural body; his eyes finally landed on my ass as I said to the employee, “have a nice day!” Maybe I was finally giving in. Giving in to that voice in my head that day. I wanted to fall back into his arms and forgive him for using me. And now, he’ll finally get what Albert and I both needed, each other.

His eyes are still on me, even when I leave the store. I wouldn’t say I’m getting paranoid, but it's only a feeling. Albert followed me home. I only know that because it's across the street from my living room’s only window. A black van with teal lettering lies waiting for me. And I feel his fist ready to knock on the door, continuing to act like everything between us is normal and over with. Finally, that knock comes, and I finish putting everything together.

I open the door. A smile crosses my face. Again, to reveal Albert, still in his same dirty clothes. "I thought you weren’t coming by ‘til later."

Albert chuckles, "This is why I didn’t set up a time, just to hear you say that."

He is really sucking up.

"So, what do you want to do now that I’m here?" He said, playfully hitting my arm.

I would love for you to take my face in your hands and kiss me with the most passion I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.

"I don’t know. I’m up for anything." I said. Suddenly, his hand snakes around my wrist, squeezing in gently. Maybe he is a mind reader.

"Then I have the thing for you." He said, pulling on my wrist gently. "First, you have to invite me in."

"What are you? A vampire?" I giggle.

"No, it's just the right thing to do."

"Okay, fine, you may come in." Albert smiles the way he always smiles, his crooked teeth on full display. His long legs walked through my door for the first time. It felt like deja vu.

"Now, finally, I can give you what you want," Al takes hold of my hand gently, "I want to make love, darling."

I froze. Why on god’s green earth is he acting like this?

"Al, cmon, don’t play with me."

  "Oh, dear," he pulled me closer to him, "why would I want to play with you? Do you want me to play with you?"

I didn’t want to reply. All I knew was it felt way too good. I could feel my old habits crawling up my back.

  "I bet you’re just so excited that I’m here, especially since I know you’re still in love with me," he said, his hands tugging at my hand.

His hand felt warm but threatening, like any minute he would rip it off of my body. I did still love him, or at least I thought I did. But if I did love him, why did I always have so much hatred toward him? At least I know now that I overreached that day.

  "Is it okay if I..." Albert pulls my hand. Taking me closer to him, "just put my hands right here."

I feel my feet beneath me moving closer to his enormous figure. I gently whine against him when he finally pulls me in for a hug. Suddenly, I feel Albert’s soft lips on my neck, kissing gently. I try to move away from Albert’s strong arms, but his grip stops me. He held me in a way that I didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want me to leave either. Suddenly, I feel one of his hands go lower to my thigh. "You know, I’ve been watching you. The window in your bedroom is the perfect view to watch you cum to thoughts of me. I can even hear it when I’m in my house." he asked, whispering against my neck.

"Albert, I-"

"’ I’ what? Do you not want this? C’mon (Y/N), give in."

  A giggle escapes my lips, "No, it's not that. It's the fact that you don’t mean anything you say." He kisses my jaw, "What if it's the truth, (Y/N)? How would you feel then? Give it, for your pleasure’s sake. " Albert’s other hand moved slowly to the opposite thigh. It felt weirdly intimate. His eyes met mine, which felt like frost on my skin.

"God, you’re even prettier up close."

  I giggle in reply. My hands were along Albert’s shoulders.

  "Why are you so giggly all of a sudden?" he asked, getting closer to my face again.

  "I’m not giggly," I replied sheepishly, "I just know that this is all bullshit. You’re a liar that kills people. Not exactly trustworthy."

Albert’s breathing suddenly grows heavy, "Why do you not believe me?"

"I literally just told you why. You’re a murderer who is also a lair."

  "No. I mean, why is it so hard to believe that I do love you?"

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. The Grabber really wants to play this game?

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the weeks of manipulation I had to suffer through; while still being in love with you."

He grew quiet. The loud cicadas sang outside, waiting for a mate of their own. Suddenly, I feel him push me up against a wall.

"I am sick of playing these mind games, princess. Now let me, why am I really here?" Albert said, his hands going up to touch my collarbones. It felt like my throat was closing, like having an allergy reaction. "Come on, spill it out. Before I use that whore mouth of yours and fuck it out of you." His mouth was close to my ear.

"I don’t know, I just thought you wanted to talk and forgive-"

"Forgive? Talk? Honey, I’m giving you what you scream about at night with your hands deep in your pussy. And don’t lie to me; I’ve seen it."

  "What do you mean ‘seen it?’" I asked innocently.

"Oh, you didn't notice? I’ve been watching you from your bedroom window. You like the idea of me being the predator, preying upon you. Or at least, you cum the hardest to that thought."

His hands slowly work their way down to my thighs. My legs suddenly lifted off the ground, my ankle socks brushing against Albert's pants.

"What I’ve also noticed is when you cum, you call yourself a ‘dirty little slut.’ Mind telling me what that’s about?" Albert slowly gets on his knees, my thighs resting on his shoulders. "Do you want to be my dirty little slut?"  

His big hands hooked around my panties and pulled them down my legs. One leg slipped out of the panties’ leg hole. Now, finally greeted with my aching pussy, he kisses it softly.

  "Beg." Albert plainly said as he kissed my inner thigh.

"What?" I whisper. Looking down, I can feel every kiss he places down. 

  "Beg for me to fuck you with my tongue."

  "Fuck… please fuck me, Albert. I want your tongue deep inside my cunt." I beg softly, trying to hold myself back as I squirmed around his face, trying to get any contact for my poor clit.

"One flick, and you’ll cum; I can just feel it." his nose rubs up against my clit.

"God," I moan out. Albert continues to rub his nose side to side, just slightly above my clit. I could feel his face get wetter with my cum as Albert went deeper.

"God-fuck-sh-please let me cum."

"Aw, you poor little thing, wanting to cum. You can hardly speak." Albert continued on like that for a little while until gently grazing his tongue over my clit. Causing my body to shiver.

"Do you want to cum, princess? Please cum for me," he said, his licking becoming more rapid.

The next few moments were a blur. A few different thoughts ran through my head, mainly that I didn’t know if I wanted it. Sure, I still had feelings that crawled in my skin like spiders. But I also couldn’t stand being around him. Either way, as I could feel my orgasm on the horizon, my pussy pushed into his face, my pearl still aching for any contact from Albert.

"Fuck-Albert-I’m gonna-" I manage to stutter out as the tight knot in my stomach finally snaps.

Once the brain fog lifts, I quickly realize what I am doing. I can’t do this anymore.

I push his face away from my clit and stumble away, straightening myself out. "Aw, c’mon, what’s wrong now?" Albert whines, his shoes sliding as he up, and walks over to me.

"What’s wrong? WHAT’S WRONG? What kind of question is that, Albert?" I ask him as I begin to pace around the room.

"This is a one time thing-"

"I WISH I KNEW HOW TO QUIT YOU." I screamed, slamming my foot down. "YOU ARE ALL I THINK ABOUT ALL THE TIMES. EVEN WHEN I HATE YOU FOR THE THINGS YOU DO."

Albert stands silently for a moment. I started to panic since all those words seemed to spill out of my mouth. "That’s a shame. I can’t say I feel the same.” He paused for a second before walking towards the door, "you know what? It doesn’t matter anyways. The thing is, even I know when to give up." Albert finished, finally walking to the door.

"Albert, please, you don’t understand-" I tried to speak but was interrupted by Al’s footsteps stop.

"(Y/N), ever I know when to give up. I’ll still call and mail you… the dream of having a relationship is dead. I’m not the guy for that. I’m the guy for casual sex and noncommittal relationships." Albert’s eyes move slowly to me and the street in front of my house.

I watched him turn the knob to the door, giving me a silent goodbye as he walked to his van. I saw him start up the car and drive away. Now all I have is me and sex filled with regret.

#ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader #the grabber #the grabber x reader

[thebackseatofjimsblazer]

When your music is on shuffle - Blurbs

Hi yes, okay so like i like to put my Spotify on shuffle and just let the gods give me songs to jam to. I mean i have exactly 2,265 liked songs, so it can get a little hectic ya’know? And i was daydreaming about how some of the ST men would react if they also heard what comes on when i hit shuffle. And with that, I bring to you a few blurbs of my daydreams (These are all modern btw, idk if i needed to mention that lmaooo) 

MDNI! 

Word count: total-1311; hopper-378; steve-390; eddie-543

Pairings: reader x hopper; reader x steve; reader x eddie

Warnings: rated M but not smut! curse words? Idk you’ll probably hate some of the songs I mention but I literally hit shuffle and wrote as i went so *shrugs* alludes to smut in closing scenes

AN: I’ll list the songs with YouTube links so y’all can check them out if you want

Hopper

When the ending notes of ‘Mama Tried’ was followed by the beginning of ‘You Look So Good In Love’, Hopper made sure to come up to where you were at, at the stove and grab you by your hips, swaying to and fro. It was a relaxing Sunday evening… You were making dinner for the both of you — pan seared steak with mashed potatoes —- while your little speaker played music from your phone. These are the kind of nights that you cherished; just the two of you with a few glasses of bourbon and some good music. 

“It’s almost done, love,” you say, pulling the steaks off of the pan and putting them in the oven to let them sit and settle. Before Hopper could bring you in for a kiss, ‘STUPID’ came on, causing you to jump up and down. Of course, with it not being classic rock or country, the sounds of Ashnikko made Jim roll his eyes. “Baby, sit real quick. I practiced a little dance in the mirror to this song. Wanna show you,” you say, pushing him back into the dinning room and into one of the chairs at the table. As the both of you waited, him staring at you with a bored look and his arms crossed, you held up a finger until it got to the part you wanted.

“I know you think about me in the shower…” You mouth the words as you go through one of the dances you saw on tiktok, but you soon forget the rest of the moves when you see Jim’s face change. 

“Pornhub in your browser, fantasize about the pussy power…” Still singing along, you begin to walk to Jim and drop your knees in front of him. His breath hitches when you put your hands on his thick thighs.

“Think about me with your hand down your trousers. I’m sweet, then I’m sour,” You say, groping his groin through his denim jeans. He groans and grabs your wrists to halt your movements. You give him an innocent little smile and get up off the ground swiftly.

“Dinners done, love. You hungry?” You ask, walking back to the kitchen to pull the steaks out. 

“Yeah, but now I’m thinking we should have dessert first.”

Steve

You didn’t hear Steve when he had walked into your apartment; you were chorus deep into ‘Kiss the Girl’ while you showered. And since nobody had been there — besides you — when you had gotten in, you obviously hadn’t locked the bathroom door. 

“The Little Mermaid? Really?” You hear from the other side of the shower curtain. You nearly slipped from him scaring you. 

“Jesus, Steve. Can you at least announce yourself when you come in? You’re lucky I don't own guns like Nancy does,” you say with a huff. “Just give it a second, it's on shuffle.” You say as you begin to wash the remainder of the soap off your body.

“If you can name the song and artist before the ten second mark one the next song, I’ll order us pizza.” He offers. You quickly agree, not being the kind of person to turn down the possibility of free pizza. Steve never believed you when you told him you truly did know every single song on your Spotify. He thought you had so many because you gave likes out similar to how he collects kids. Well— not like that. You know what I mean.

When the next song began playing, it took you closer to three seconds to quickly say, “Angel of the morning by Juice Newton. I want olives on my half of the pizza, please.” 

“Nuh, uh. That was like too easy. Even I know that song,” he protests. “I’ll give you one more try.” He said. You furrow your brows and roll your eyes, but give in. The song starts playing and it takes you about five seconds this time to recognize the song.

“That’s exorcist by kill switch,” you blurt out before it got to the part you like to say. “I’m addicted to Pornhub,” you mutter. 

“Oh are you now?” He asks in a flirty tone. You can hear him getting closer to the shower curtain, so you peek your head out.

“Yeah… why don’t you go order that pizza and so we can enjoy dinner and a movie?” You flirt back. His mouth gapes at the way you so casually just offered to watch porn with him. You smiled deviously seeing how his brain short circuited; quickly nodding as he turned to go to the other room to place the delivery order. 

He’s just so cute.

Eddie

You and Eddie had been driving around, doing some last minute errands before going back to his trailer for the night. Except this time, you were the one driving in your car rather than him driving his van. You had offered so that he could smoke some of his joint and relax after the day he had at the shop. And since you guys were in your car, it was your phone hooked up to the aux. Your rule was that whoever was driving in your car got aux privileges because “the driver needs to be in their driving zone”. It just made sense and you didn’t allow people to argue about it. 

Eddie had been putting up with all of the “lame” songs, as he liked to call them. When ‘7/11’ came on, he grumbled like an old man complaining about today’s youth. And then when ‘Material Girl’ came on, he folded his arms over his chest and moped in the passenger seat. Similar reactions were drawn from him when ‘I Wanna Go’ and ‘Should’ve Said No’ came on the radio.

“Taylor Swift? Blegh.” He complained. But with every song, you sang every word and ignored him. But then a song came on that changed his whole mood. Hearing the drums and intense guitar ring through the speakers, you turned up the radio even more. Singing to the windshield, you began to point at Eddie. The instrumental part came along and you used your steering wheel as the drums. But when it got to the next part, you turned to Eddie and belted out the lyrics.

“I will make your insides on the fucking outside! I’ll tear through your skin and watch you rot!” 

With a stunned expression, Eddie reached forward and turned the volume down enough so that you could hear him. “I need you to know that when we get home, I’m eating your pussy from the back.” 

You stifle a giggle as his words register in your head. You knew he was being serious, but the way he was so blunt about it was comical to you. And blessed be, another metal song came on right after that one. This one was more upbeat, causing you to squeal in excitement and turn the radio back up. 

You sang along with the crude words of it and then grabbed Eddie’s hand to bring to the ceiling of the car when it came to that certain part. Going along with it, you said, “Listen up- you can do anything you want in life. Just dont be a fucking bitch. Put your middle fingers up!” 

Already knowing the song, you put one of your hands out the window to flip off the outside world and your other hand was touching your car’s ceiling, effectively only flipping off the cloth of it. Eddie quickly reached out and grabbed the steering wheel to keep the car in control.

“Jesus, babe!” A wild smile covered his face when he looked back at you after you had returned your hands. 

“What? He said not to be a fucking bitch…” you giggle out. He shook his head and rested his palm on his mouth before he chose to respond. 

“Now I’m definitely eating your ass too.”

Songs:

Mama Tried

You Look So Good In Love

STUPID

Kiss the Girl

Angel of the Morning

Exorcist

7/11

Material Girl

I Wanna Go

Should’ve Said No

Cheyne Stokes

Middle Fingers Up

#bunny’s blurbs #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fandom #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #stranger things smut #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #steve harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader

[cloudsthatglowinthenightsky]

ok first chapter.

-no yeah bbygirl u cannot infact prepare for ALL possibilities that's not actually possible

-ok so the miraculouse?s?i? definitely fucked him up a bit more but also. he was way fucked up even before that. like it definitely worsened his mental state but he was trying to bring back his dead wife that he kept in his basement through magical terrorism so. it was already bad like

-i 100 believe the senti theory and like it actually seems pretty incharacter but like. still astounds me how adoption was in fact NOT the first instinct but instead "magical child"

-yeah chat was already shitty before the reveal bc like. his dad???? he was breaking down and then it somehow got SO MUCH WORSE

-no cause the whole taking wedding bands with miraculous thing actually makes sense. 0 leaps of logic there. sorry i just love these small details -well nice to know he cares (???) about adrien i guess...

-seriously WHY GIVE SO MANY INFORMATIVE INTERVIEWS i understand she is your best friend but cmon bro

-god this hurts so much worse knowing that marinette is going THROUGH it but adrien is like. going through it x10

-never like the "didn't realise i was crying" thing cause how/??? but i get it for this one. ur having a panic attack probably. it's cool.

-yeah no u kinda suck for the whole humanity thing like no blame!!! just a passing thought but also. when the connotation of humanity is in fact personhood..... yeahhhhhh like it SHOULDN'T BE but YEAHHHH

-big fan of the bugette mention and subsequent mentions like yeah that's something they would totally think about!!!

-adrien is literally so sad like as a character like what the fuck you know

-also side rant but SCREW EVERYONE THAT SAYS THE ABUSE PLOTLINE IS INVALIDATED BY THE SENTI THEORY ACTUALLY IT ADDS ONTO IT BC IT'S A PERFECT METAPHOR FOR HOW ABUSERS CONTROL THEIR VICTIMS AND HOW IT FEELS LIKE U CAN'T ESCAPE AND THERE'S JUST SOMETHING ALLPOWERING THAT STOPS YOU FROM DISOBEYING EVEN WHEN YOU KNOW IN YOUR MIND sorry i just hate everyone that has ever said that. fuck u actually

-very real reaction. immediately swing over there like yeah fr

-"careful with her words" FORESHADOWING...

-you're so lucky you said her name bc if you hadn't she probably would have actually like collapsed to the floor bro

-"took care of it" EVERY INSTANCE OF DEHUMMANIZATIION IN THIS FIC JUST MAKES ME SO SO MAD..... LIKE AND THAT'S THE POINT SO IT MAKES SENSE BUT STILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD FUCK EVERYONE!!!!!!

-also having the emotions about dehumanization and also the inside knowleedge about chat noir but also THE HTINGS HE SAYS. rips me apart on another level bc 1. the fucking things he says about himself oh my god get a hug pls 2. his friends instantly being like no actually WRONG but also 3.?????? the way they hate him for it so much?????? bc like i understand completely i would react in the exacct same way its' just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S SO SAD LIKE. EVERY PART OF THIS FIC IS SO SAD

-yes bring up chloe!!!!

-the social media hate is so funny in this but also so.... !?!??!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?

-nino this is quite literally the worst time to be going on twitter are you fucking

-like i get it but also. AHHHH

-no but jean's right tho the feather thing is hilarious

-this is so funny bc it's exactly how twitter would act. i don't even use twitter but i know. yes the simps would do this

-it is a nightmare but i would be taking u a lot more seriously if you weren't named "adrien's bae"

#haha my brain waves #my other thing isn't posting so this partial thing will do for now #hopefully it goes through??? cmon cmon

[certainrcmances]

           It’s 9 o’clock in the morning when Grayson West arrives at the Chateau Marmont lounge and approaches our table with a smile on his face. He’s dressed to the nines in a plain white button-up shirt and black jeans, with his dark hair and beard cut and trimmed to perfection. The British actor is kind when he greets me, takes a second to introduce himself as ‘Gray,’ shakes my hand, and asks how I am doing. He is just coming off a major high, having won several awards throughout the last year and starred in multiple, critically acclaimed projects, but the man remains as humble as ever. When asked about the year he’s had, Grayson isn’t sure how to put it into words for a moment.

           “Quite honestly, I wasn’t expecting it.” He tells me, “I thought it was going to be a quiet year for me, since it was the year before, but then the nominations came out and I was lucky enough to be nominated alongside so many people I admire. And then, to my surprise, I won.” He is quite the talker, and even kinder than most people would believe him to be. It’s something his peers have spoken about at length, and what many of them admire him for. When asked what it is that makes him so humble, he can’t help but become bashful. “Is that what they call me?” He asks with a laugh, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “Well, my parents definitely raised me to not be a total knob, which includes not being too cocky, though I can’t say that without mentioning how my mum tells me that I’ve got too big of a head sometimes.”

           And it seems as though awards season will be bringing even more nominations for the actor, with one of the many ongoing rumors surrounding his new film, God’s Country, being that both him and his co-stars will certainly be the talk of The Academy. The film is dark and thrilling—unlike anything else that we’ve seen from Grayson West. There’s the usual western theme that we are all used to from him, but with a new, dark twist reminiscent of the horror films that his co-star, Mia McGowan, has thrived in. The pair have incredible chemistry on screen, but it has been reported that it has extended beyond the screen. When I ask about Miss McGowan, there is a semblance of a grin on the actor’s face as he has nothing but praises for his co-star. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? When we were on set, I really did try my best to get on her level as she is truly brilliant in absolutely every scene of our film. It’s one thing to work with someone you admire, but it’s another to work with someone who makes you want to be a better actor and that’s how it was working with Mia. She makes notes on every script, asks questions that no one else would even think to ask, and never misses her mark.”

           It was after this interview that I was able to get on the phone with and interview Mia McGowan, who also had nothing but kind things to say about Mr. West. “He was always making us laugh on set, albeit a bit too much, which always led to us becoming distracted. He says that he’s a serious actor, but I’d argue differently.” She reveals with a laugh, “I had an absolute blast working with him, and I’d love to again.”

           God’s Country is certainly going to sweep all the awards when the season rolls around, and it has already been picked to be a favorite by many critics, even with another year of films to go. I ask about Grayson’s reaction to the early reviews of the film, and he’s ecstatic. “It’s the most excited I’ve been about a film of mine in a while, and that’s not to slight the other projects I’ve been in, I just feel as though this has opened another door for me. I don’t want to be type-casted, or constricted to just one type of role, not when I think I have the versatility and want to branch out to other things.” He explains, “I love westerns and the stories that I get to play apart in telling, but I also love getting to challenge myself and God’s Country really was a challenge to me… at least at first.”

           In an email exchange with Jane Campion, she speaks to Grayson’s ability to really delve into his characters and take them on in a way that’s beyond what is usually expected of actors these days. “He’s not one to shy away from a challenge, and that’s why the casting director, Darlene, and I sought him out for the role. That, and we also knew that he was already familiar with western themes and tropes, but not familiar with the horror or thriller aspect at al, which is why we brought Mia McGowan in.” She writes, “The chemistry you see between their characters is all them, and they really put so much of themselves into these characters and it shows. They both gave spectacular performances in this film, and it was a privilege to work with them.” When I speak of this to the Academy Award winner, he can’t quite believe it. “You might have to forward me that email so I can read it over and over again.” He laughs, “Might have to print it out and frame it as well.”

           After two hours of discussion and a few cups of tea, the conversation almost reaches it conclusion, until its shifts to what Grayson sees happening for himself in the future. It is difficult to imagine the actor doing anything but acting, and yet, he says that he wants to do more than just that. “I’ve been a part of the industry for so long, been on a lot of sets and see the behind-the-scenes action, but I have never actually been a part of the process—the writing, producing, directing... just everything that goes into making a film. It’s something I have always been interested in and I would really like to be on the other side of the camera for once. I’m not saying that I will stepping away from acting in the future, because it is my life, but I would like to be more involved in the process.” As for his personal life? “I’d like to get married and have kids, I think. Lord knows my mum wants me to.” He laughs, “But, I’d like that. The family life, y’know?” Do you have anyone who you’d want that with currently? “I think I do.”

#m: grayson west #mine

[crazybigredlove]

17th July 2013

Dear Pete, 

My Friend! How are things? However they are, reasonably confident they have to be better than they are here. 

It's happening again. 

The feeling of wanting to eat constantly, to hide from the world in baggy jeans and with unkempt hair, passing through my days in a despondent haze; that feeling is back again in all its glory. Right now my senses are telling me to run screaming when men get that look in their eyes. You've seen me do this before. It's not pretty. It's the reason for the serious weight gain of 2008 that we have both vowed to never talk about again. So many potatoes... Each one more delicious than the last... 

But I digress. 

The problem is that dating is such hard work. When a relationship ends, whether it be after a few months or a few years or even decades, there is always that crap that you have to sift through. 

Packing boxes. Returning stuff. Tears to be cried. Letting go of baggage and moving on. Such. Hard. Work. Not to mention stressful and exhausting. 

You know what is infinitely harder? No. Not that. Mind out of the gutter, Pete. Ahem. To even have the privilege of feeling all that crap, to ever be lucky enough to drown in the fallout of a relationship that has ended, you have to sift through a whole lot of ill-fitting waste just to get to a point where a relationship lasts long enough that it can end. All that struggle just to find someone you care enough about that you are sad when they go. 

And there are so many judgements on that journey... 

We can't all be crazy. We can't all be insane. High-maintenance. Too laid back. Ambitious. Difficult. Uninterested. Demanding. Clingy. Aloof. Lazy. Lacking in drive. 

The problem - I have rather wisely discovered and am now sharing with you - is that what is a perfect fit for one person is someone else's worst nightmare. When I think back to that photo (you know, the middle finger salute one), I realise that some girls would think that was the funniest thing ever. The stupid thing is that had I been in a different mood even I might've laughed... 

Does this mean that my entire dating history is potentially the result of some bad decisions on days when my mood was more sombre than others? That the men I should've dated never got the joy of receiving my phone number because I was too hung- over, or hadn't slept enough, or was angry with low blood sugar levels at that exact moment in time that our trajectories crossed? Perhaps my mother was right to be fearful that my crap decision- making would one day ruin my life??? 

Oh God. In theory that would mean that potentially I'm a failure at life because I don't sleep enough, I eat too many high sugar foods, and I partied too much during my youth. As such I have spent my entire adult life being moody with potential dates, one of which was probably the man I was supposed to marry half a decade ago. 

Fuck. 

Do you remember that trainer friend of PT Patrick's? Caleb? He was married. Still is actually. He sent me some messages in the last few days. At my lovely, boring, kill-me-now office desk, the phone started vibrating like crazy and one after another they came through. At first I thought they were just sweet and innocent. 'How are you?' and 'You're very pretty'. Thinking to myself that maybe he'd heard about my latest relationship debacle and wanted to make me feel better I warmly accepted the compliments and responded politely. When the text came through including a picture of his penis, well, that was when I figured he'd probably gotten the wrong idea. Or someone told him about the road trip of 2004. 

Dear God, I really hope he just got the wrong impression... 

More exciting is that Miranda was standing right behind me when the picture came through and she, being the snooty-nosed, controlling cow that she is, was of course staring down at my phone hoping to catch me out doing something wrong. That ended in a counselling session with her and, for added pleasure, her boss, and we all sat around discussing what is and isn't appropriate use of work time. Double fun is that it was the work mobile that he sent the messages to. Even more amazing was that she apparently needed a copy for my HR personnel file... 

The thing is though, if I were a man, and if I had a penis, and if it were that size... Hesitation would definitely occur on my part before I decided to share that with the world. Or at the very least there would be some serious Photoshop applied prior to spreading photos of that nature throughout the population of single women in this town. 

This letter is a little scattered because I'm 97% certain that I've have lost my mind and it's no longer my own. There is a very real point that I am attempting to make, but at the present time I'm probably being a little inarticulate... 

What I think I'm trying to say is that this idea you had about me throwing myself into the dating world? I'm just not sure it was your best idea. Nutella brownie sundaes the night before you left? Those were an excellent idea. Road tripping up and down the coast during the Post-Lawyer Lucas slump? World's best remedy. This? Well, this all seems a little too much like hard work right now. While the payoff would absolutely be worth it if Mr Right managed to find his way into my life (again, how are things going with the Prince Harry hunt? Secured him for me yet?), the battle of looking is the bit that is tripping me up. Honestly, there are only so many penis pictures you can see before you completely lose interest in pursuing anything with anyone who has one of those appendages. 

(To clarify, I'm not saying I'm all about the hooha now, I'm just saying that men are wearing me out with their strange mating rituals). 

So. Have asked the married man to leave me alone for a while but indefinitely would be better. Asked Tea Boy again to stop messaging me. Women Shouldn't Work Guy was told to lose my number. 

Carpal tunnel risk: Extreme. 

Pete, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want me to do with my time while you're away? Dating? Really? And without supervision! 

Oh it doesn't matter anyway. After tonight The Czech and I will finally realise that our perfectly mediocre friendship is the stuff that dreams are made of and when we failed so spectacularly at dating last year it was because we were aiming for that Hollywood script ending, when in reality, perfectly mediocre friendship is what lasting relationships are built on. Whilst they aren't going to write Nora Ephron-type movies based on that plot line, perhaps they could write Olivia Spencer movies. Or rather, I could. I am Olivia Spencer! What is the point in having a degree in creative writing with completely average results if you're not going to use it? 

Was meant as a joke, but now that I think about it I am going to go download a book on writing screenplays. 

Will give it more thought and keep you updated. 

Liv x 

[inu-mxki]

change of heart / eren yeager x fem!reader / college au

a/n: got serious s4 eren brain rot. we’ve all been there

warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, sexual themes, strong language, smoking/drinking, kind of toxic!eren to begin with, consensual sex, descriptions of sex, praise kink, pet names (angel, baby, princess)

word count: 2621

College was made for people like Eren Yeager. Captain of the football team, undeniably beautiful, a stand-up student, and the biggest fuckboy you’d ever met.

It wasn’t that Eren couldn’t hold down a woman, he just straight up didn’t want to. There’s just too many options. With popularity like his, he hardly had to look for a quick hook up, and he wasn’t about to throw that away to lock himself down to just one person. They were all far too starry-eyed for him anyway, and lust wasn’t love, he knew that much, not that he even knew what love was. So, when he met you, he had his intentions set. 

You were just how he likes them, the new girl who just transferred across the country and needed a nice boy to show her the ropes, big innocent eyes matched with a shy demeanour. Jesus, you drove him wild, right from the moment you wandered into his literature class. So pretty, so sweet, you’d be the death of him. He knew it, how innocently you asked if the seat beside him was taken and then proceeded to ask if you could walk to the next class with him. Like he’d say no. Like he’d turn a beauty like you away, God he’d never seen such a pretty little lady in his life. Even if there was someone sitting there, you were going to be his desk buddy, he’d walk you to the next class and pull out the chair for you. ‘Course he fucking would. Needed to butter you up, didn’t he? Get you all doe eyed for him, have you looking at him with those damn eyes as he’s picturing what on earth he was going to do with you.

And so it began, his favourite pastime, replacing all logic with him and him only.

And it worked, for a while. Had you in his dorm room within a month, suckling and lapping at the pretty sight between your legs like a man starved, feeling you gush around his fingers, around him, probably four times a week if he was lucky. But something happened, something strange and uncomfortable and downright pathetic happened, and you started invading his mind, and not just with thoughts of you under him, panting his name and sucking on his length, no, this wasn’t sex related. These thoughts were genuine, involuntary, in the middle of the night as he lay there awake, when you didn’t show up to class, when he saw you across the canteen, and he hated it.

He physically shook his head when the smile on your face became clear in his mind’s eye, clutching his chest when his heart felt like it had flipped over and back again as you cuddle up to him in your sleep, cursing out loud when he realises that he actually misses you. He’d never hated something so much in his life. Why couldn’t you be like the others, an airhead whose mouth opens just to please him, why couldn’t you cry when he called off your plans for his friends, pleading and begging him to give you attention. Why, why did you just smile and say, “that’s cool, have fun and make sure you eat something.”

And why the heck was he thinking about you the entire time instead of pressing another girl up against Jean’s bedroom door?

He’d had advances, all night, so many pretty girls in about as much clothing as you could get on your little finger wanting him to ravish them, but something stopped him each time their hand ran down his arm or pushed against his chest. He took their wrist, and said sorry, he actually said sorry, and then left to down a shot. Jean wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders and gave him a little shake.

“What’s going on with you, dude?” he laughed, red cup in his hand and hair a mess from where Mikasa’s hands had been only moments before, “Historia just came up to me crying about how you turned her down. I thought you wanted to fuck her?”

“I did,” Eren said over the music, throwing another shot back, “but I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“Not feeling it. What’s wrong, you sick or something?”

“Yeah, of you,” Eren smirked at his childhood pal, and Jean pretended to look hurt, “nah, I just want to save some energy. Big game tomorrow.”

“We all got tickets,” Jean said, refilling the cup in his hand, “Armin got us front row. Scarily persuasive that one.”

Eren laughed, looking across the room at Armin, who was trying his best to not appear absolutely wrecked in front of Historia, who’d chosen her next prey.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Eren said, feeling the alcohol setting in, “coming?”

“Nah, I’ve got unfinished business,” Jean grinned, “just getting ‘Kasa a drink, like the good boyfie I am.”

“Please never say that again,” Eren said, grimacing at Jean’s choice of words, “catch you later.”

The night air was colder than he thought, and he shivered against the breeze as he rolled his cigarette, licking a clean stripe along the paper to hold it down. He lit the end, inhaling sharply and falling back against the wall. Frat parties used to be his favourite weekend activity, but tonight he felt odd. Just that afternoon he’d found you in the library, and that stupid feeling in chest had him clutching at his jumper again before he cancelled your plans for that night. You didn’t put up a fight, to his displeasure, and just said it was fine.

Fine, you said.

If you were anyone else, he’d have told you how annoying it was, but Eren couldn’t do that. The mere thought of not getting to fuck you into his mattress was enough to keep him up. He could easily be accused of being obsessed, but he swore he wasn’t. He found a good fuck and wanted to keep you around, that’s what he told himself, his friends, and anyone who questioned his behaviour.

But now he was thinking about you again, the alcohol making his hand fumble with the phone in his pocket. He wanted to call you, hear your voice down the phone asking if he was alright, and clumsily he found himself scrolling for your contact. It rang, three times, and then went to answer phone, and his heart dropped into his stomach. His hazy head started calculating, are you with someone else? Someone that’s not him, is some other guy finding all those sweet spots he knew like the back of his hand?

That’s when he legs took him over to your block, still drunk and puffing harshly on his cigarette, but ready to knock out whoever dare touch his property. He punched in the passcode, the one you gave to him months ago, and headed up to your room purely from memory at this point. His fist met the door with force, and from the other side he heard you fumbling about before the lock clicked and there you were. His reason for going there suddenly left his mind, seeing you in just a t-shirt, his t-shirt that fell before your knees, bare legs and hair tied up messily. Have you always looked this good in his clothes? He didn’t care, and the smell of your shampoo drifted as you moved closer to him, eyebrows creasing and questions not reaching his ears.

“Ren?” you said again, “everything alright? I thought you were with Jean.”

He couldn’t find the words, everything in his clouded head was just you, in his shirt, your legs he’d kissed down a hundred times and the way you moved a strand of hair from his face that had fallen from his bun.

“Renny?” you say sweetly, the nickname falling off those soft, plump lips, just how it did when he was making you feel oh so good, and his body moved before he could think, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into to a feverish kiss.

His lips were hot and desperate, and you realised why he’d come here, taking his jumper in your fist and pulling him through the doorway with you. He was so familiar, his hands untying your hair to tangle his fingers in it, kissing you like he’d never get a chance to again, tongue tasting each inch of your mouth as you both clumsily reached the bed. You fell, softly, with his weight on top of you, pushing you against the fabric as his mouth moved across your jaw, down your neck, hands roughly grabbing at your shirt to get to your favourite spot, just below your collarbone, and there it was. Such a sultry sound, breathy and fucking delicious, his name rolling off your tongue and making him groan into your skin.

“Again,” he panted, hands reaching under your shirt to palm at your bare breasts, mouth leaving wet kisses along the expanse of your neck, “say it for me, baby.”

“Renny,” you breathe, and the growl in his chest was almost feral, rolling your nipple between his fingers as your back arched your body into him.

“Missed you,” he found himself mumbling, swallowing your little whimpers as he gave the other breast the same treatment, “needed to see you.”

“Fuck me you mean,” you say light-heartedly between his lips on yours, and he stops, your breaths heavy and chests heaving. His eyes were onyx, pupils blown wide, a drunk but adored look in them. He spreads his hands over your hips, moving you down to slot against him like a puzzle piece, his growing arousal pressing against your clothed core.

“That’s just a bonus.”

He wasn’t usually like this, so needy, whining in such desperation as you rolled against him, your thighs now straddling his bare hips. His hands gripped your sides so harshly they were leaving red marks, helping you bounce up and down on his impressive length. Eren was usually rough, perhaps a little harsh, not giving you time to even catch a breath before slamming his hips into you, but tonight was different. It was intimate, softly panting into each other’s mouths, slow, soft kisses and his hands caressing the curve of your ass, the plush skin of your thighs.

“So pretty,” he mumbled against your lips, snapping his hips into yours roughly, causing a rather lewd moan to rumble in your throat, “my pretty baby, my pretty little baby.”

“Renny,” you whine, detaching your lips from his, his half-lidded eyes looking up at you like you were something ethereal, “I’m getting close.”

“I got you angel,” he says softly, gripping your hips again to help you through it, “do it f’ me, yeah?”

A high-pitched moan left your mouth, eyes closing as the coil snapped, clenching around his length so tight it took everything to not lose it himself.

“Fucking hell, that’s it, my good girl, my good fucking girl,” Eren praised you, voice both rough and airy, his head falling back against the wall, “fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Renny,” you cry again, overstimulated as his hands continue to bounce you at the same speed. He loved it when you whined like that, told him it was too much, drove him silly.

“Not long now, baby,” he forced out, chest rising and falling rapidly, “jus’ feel so good, princess.”

You ran your hands down his toned torso, feeling each crevice, when his grip tightened so harshly you squeaked.

“Fuck, gonna come angel,” he strained quietly, resting his forehead against your shoulder, goosebumps forming as your nails trace down the back of his neck. His movements stutter, a deep groan vibrating in his throat as he came. He shamelessly nuzzled more into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, softening inside. Your nails still traced his neck, down to his shoulders, lips pressing soft kisses below his ear.

“Good?” you ask him, and he just nods into your skin, not wanting to leave your embrace. He felt you chuckle against him, resting your head on his, “I missed you too.”

His heart clenched again, that horrible feeling he always got when you said something like that. He hated it, but he was slowly realising why he hated it, why he hated thinking about you, just you, and nothing else, because deep down he knew what it meant. He hugged you tighter, before moving to look at you. Calloused hands tucked hair behind your ears, those green eyes everyone talked about scanning over your features like he was memorising them. He pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, adoring the way you exhaled in pleasure.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been with,” he says, pressing more kisses along your jaw to your ear, “Christ, I don’t even think about anyone else anymore.” You wanted to ask what he meant, but his soft kisses against your shoulder were making you lose your train of thought, “I’m so fucking mad,” he continued, “you’re just there, all the time, and I can’t stop it. You’re all I think about.”

“Ren,” you say softly, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look back at you, “what are talking about, honey?”

Honey. He loved it when you called him that. Sometimes he heard you say it in his head even when you weren’t there.

“I don’t know even know,” he admitted, eyes searching yours, “all I know is I’ve never felt like this before and I’m doing a really shitty job of telling you about it.”

Your eyes were so soft and gentle, smiling at him with that kind look on your face, pressing a peck to his nose and rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“You’ve never been good with words, Renny,” you giggle lightly, “but that’s okay, sometimes we don’t need words, you know? Sometimes our actions speak for us.”

God you’re so damn perfect, touching him like he’s never done anything wrong before, like he deserves to be treated like that by you.

“What do you mean?” he asked, like a child, watching you so intently, each movement, each flicker of your eyes. You just smiled, nudging your nose against his.

“I thought you’d come here tonight for the same reason you always do,” you tell him gently, “but this was different, you are different, in such a beautiful, vulnerable way, Renny.”

He didn’t deserve it, that was his conclusion as he yanked you closer and captured your lips in another hungry kiss, but he didn’t care right now. His guard was falling, the walls he’d built were crumbling under your touch, and he was at your mercy, on his knees for you, he’d grovel to keep you, go to the ends of the earth to wake up next to you every morning from this day on. But he just couldn’t say it, he didn’t know how to, so he hoped that his actions could be his voice, he hoped that this kiss was enough, he hoped, prayed, that you knew what he meant, that you could feel it in every bone and vein in your body, like he did, like he felt it every time he saw you, how your name hung around his head like balloons on a ceiling. He prayed to God that you knew that he loved you.

Oh God, he loves you.

He’s so in love with you.

“Please understand me,” he breathed against your mouth, and felt you smile.

“I understand,” you whisper to him, “I understand, and I want to, for a long, long time.”

disclaimer: i do not own aot or any of the characters/storyline associated with it

#inu-mxki18+ #eren yeager #eren #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x reader #AoT #eren aot #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager imagine #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger #eren smut #aot smut

[thegetoufather]

AYO pondering hours with aman??? 🤨🤔🤔

spare er*n thoughts??????

god i have so many im pretty sure he destroyed my cerebral cortex. this got away from me im so sorry.

warnings: smut, 18+/minors DNI, sex under the influence (alcohol, its two consenting adults tho), college au, unprotected, mirror sex, some ass play, prissy jean lol, horny fluff, im in love with him and i hate it!

I think about partying with new boyfriend eren a lot.

When the alcohol floods your system you can’t help but think he is even more handsome, the party lights illuminating his sharp cheekbones even further, his laughter filling the room and adding to the vibe. It makes you dopey, sinking even further into the honeymoon stage as you watch his hands slam the red solo cups down in flip cup and think about how lucky you are that he is yours.

He always has that same goofy smile when he catches you staring at these things, walking up to you and kissing you even if you’re conversing with your friends in an odd form of punishment for drooling over him so publicly. He always breaks it with a teasing smile, introducing himself so effortlessly afterwards as your boyfriend in front of the girls who sit next to you in English. Its insane, how he’s carrying as solid conversation with them about how much of a hardass Professor Shadis could be so nonchalantly, like his tongue wasn’t in your mouth a minute ago and while he now squeezes your ass to let you know he’s been having the same drunk thoughts all along.

You break away from the conversation soon after, Eren scooping you up into a carry as you push past the crowd into a bedroom, getting crudely tossed into the bed so Eren can lock the door. Your furrowed brow soon disappears as he strips off his shirt in a fluid motion, abs rippling under tan skin as he settles in between your legs to hike up your dress to settle around your waist. He presses a kiss to the wet spot in your thong before pulling it down, reveling in your soft little moans as he peppers kisses down your thighs for no reason other than to tease you, you’re practically drooling in the sheets already. He rolls you on your stomach, large hands gripping your the globes of your ass apart as he runs a thumb over that puckered hole and you whine, begging for him to do something already.

He presses into you with a kiss between your shoulder blades, a languid motion that has you moaning into the sheets beneath you. You’re glad he can’t see the way your eyes rolled into the back of your skull when you heard him let out a strained fuck when he was flush with your ass, it would have been embarrassing, but its like he could read your mind — reaching over to grab your neck to pull you up to his chest and bring you face to face with your flushed reflection in the mirror.

The large hand never leaves the pretty column of your throat, putting a light pressure on your carotids so that he could hear every little sound you make with every thrust. The other squeezes your thigh to stabilize you, grip tightening with every flithy thing Eren whispers in your ear.

“Can’t enough of this pretty pussy, yeah? Look at what a good job you’re doing taking me, can’t believe this is the first time my girl gets to see what its like. Fucck.”

And with every squeaked yes and broken cry of his name you nod in agreement, entranced by the sight of your bodies in the mirror. The faintest part of your brain is wondering when he even had it put into his room, but the thought gets pushed away every time his cockhead kisses your cervix. Your hand leaves his wrist to sneak to the apex of your thighs, rubbing circles on your clit so that you’re brought closer to your orgasm.

What sends you over is another one of Eren’s comments, a gruff “yeah, keep touching yourself like that, princess” that causes sparks to flow throughout your body as you clamp around his girth, Eren spilling into you shortly after. You collapse back down to the sheets as you catch your breath, cum dripping out on the navy fabric below you as you still your beating heart.

You still feel like you’re floating when Eren turns you around, and you prop yourself on your elbows as you watch him clean you up. He tosses the tissues aside and clambers back on top of you, whispering a cheeky “hey there,” before pressing his lips against yours.

It’s soft and lazy, the kind of kisses that feel like they are taking forever and no time at all because all you can feel in the moment is him, and each time you break apart you can’t help but rest your forehead against his and giggle, reveling in the afterglow of your orgasms.

The thumping bass line of the party music brings you back to earth, and you announce that you should probably return back to the scene before people start wondering where you’ve gone. You hop off the bed, searching for your panties only to find Eren’s tucked them into his jean pocket with a wink, taking his souvenir and heading out the door.

The rest of the night is a blur of dancing and a couple more shots, the night ending with you falling back into bed for round 2 before promptly passing out in each others arms.

He’s awake before you are, green eyes watching you intently as you blink your eyes open.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs against your forehead.

You whisper back a good morning as you snuggle into his warmth, feeling his hands slip past the edge of his old shirt so he can stroke your back, a soothing motion threatening to lull you back to sleep.

But the sweet moment gets cut short with a blood curdling scream, you and Eren leaping out from under the covers and into the hallway where you find Jean clutching cum stained navy sheets in his hand with a death grip.

“WHO FUCKED IN MY BED?” he yells, sending Connie doubling over in laughter as Marco tries to calm his boyfriend down. “THESE ARE THOUSAND COUNT SHEETS, YOU KNOW!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, realizing that you were right to question the mirror, but before you could sneak back into the comfort of Eren’s room to escape Jean’s wrath, you’ve realized he’s laughing manically too, catching Jean’s attention immediately.

At the very least, you’ll both go down for your crimes against Jean’s Anthropology sheets together.

#thir$ts #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #aot thirsts #eren jaeger thirst #i screamed about this with kari too and its rotting my skull

[writing-wh0re]

I can have one where Peter is a fuck boy and unknowingly slept with Y/N (stark) and they meet at the tower on a group meeting day. (and he in front of the avengers pretends to be innocent). Love you

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

Peter Park x Female Reader - Tony Stark's Daughter.

Words: 3,625 - longest I've ever written.

Warnings: Smut18+, Vaginal intercourse, Male and Female Performing Oral, Praise Kink, Unprotected Sex, Fuckboy Peter Parker, Angst.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this, I took three hours to write and edit this. I got a little carried away with it (I think) and I apologise for it being sooo long.

So far your senior year had been amazing, you were destined to finish top of your class which would make your dad happy and you had also been offered an internship with him, which some of your classmates thought was bullshit but hey, considering you didn’t want to go to some flashy expensive school, you were doing pretty good, even with your dad’s help.

That was until you went out to your first party with your best friend Macie, she thought it was about time you let loose and have fun. You didn’t want to go and had even told your mum and dad who only encouraged you to go out, so that plan backfired. So here you were, standing in Macie’s living room, red solo cup in your hand while dancing with your best friend, happy to have listened to her for once and let loose.

“How do you know this many people?”

Macie shakes her head “I don't know them, they’re Tyler’s friends from his school.” I nod in agreement, looking around the room for Tyler, Macie's boyfriend who is chatting with a guy I’ve never seen before. His brown slightly curly hair, puppy dog eyes and a smile that causes butterflies inside of my stomach. Macie grabs my shoulder, following my line of sight before laughing and shaking her head.

“Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker” I repeat his name, loving the way it sounds as it falls from my lips. “He’s fucking hot.”

Macie laughs at me before nodding. “Yeah he’s alright, he goes to school with Tyler. He’s a bit of a ladies man but I don’t know too much about him.”

“He’s into science and technology?” I almost feel bad for questioning the boy's intelligence, judging him solely on his handsome appearance.

“Yeah, Tyler, Peter and a guy called Ned won their last science fair two weeks ago.” Macie informs. “Let's go say hi.” Macie grabs my arm pulling me through the body’s of unknown teenagers before we come face to face with Peter and Tyler.

“Hey babe, we were just talking about you.” Tyler pulls Macie into his side, kissing the side of her head.

My eyes fall to Peter, both of us smiling at each other. I feel my skin fall hot slightly as his eyes wander over my body. I mentally thank myself for wearing my red leather shirt and lace crop top.

“I’m Peter.”

“Y/n.” I smile before hearing someone clear their throat. Turning my attention to Macie, a cocky smirk on her face.

“Tyler and I want to play beer pong, want to join?”

“You’d have to be partners though.” Tyler quickly adds, before walking away with Macie to the table to set the game up, not even waiting for a response.

I look to my side slightly silently asking Peter if he’d like to join.

“I need words Y/n.” I take in a sharp breath at what Peter just said to me.

“Uh, would you, um like to be my partner for beer pong?” Peter licks his lips before smirking at me.

“Of course.” His hand falls to the middle of my back as he guides me to the table Tyler and Macie had just set up. Macie raises her eyebrow at me, causing me to blush and shake my head, knowing exactly what she is thinking.

“Okay so standard rules, but we haven’t decided what the winner gets yet.” Tyler states.

I watch Macie stand on her tippy toes whispering something into Tylers ear causing him to chuckle.

“Okay, the winner has to make out with their team member.”

I sigh at my best friend before nodding.

“Fine, okay.”

“Sound a little more excited.” Peter whispers, flicking his eyes from mine to my lips. I roll my eyes, ignoring his comment as Macie flips a coin.

“Heads.” I call quickly, watching Macie reveal the coin, heads being the winner.

Tyler throws Peter the ball, catching it perfectly in one swift motion.

“Fuck.” I whisper to myself, seeing him smirk slightly. He surely didn’t hear me, did he?

I stand beside Peter as he lines up the first shot, landing the ball into the cup causing Tyler to groan.

“Lucky shot.” Macie mumbles before lining up to take her shot, missing the cup as I pout.

“Awh Mace.” Macie narrows her eyes at me before flipping me off.

I grab the ball, lining up the shot, before I can let go of the ball, Peter’s hand falls to my elbow, his other placed in the middle on my back.

“Lower, otherwise you’ll miss and we want to win.” His warm breath fans my neck causing my heartbeat to pick up. I let the ball slip through my fingertips, missing the cup I was originally planning on but landing the ball in the one behind.

“That’s unfair.” Macie complains before drinking from the cup.

The game continues with us losing our lead, until the last cup for both teams. I take a deep breath, knowing it's my go and praying that I won’t miss this shot.

“Breathe, lower your arm, line it up and sink it.” Peter whispers, his lips against my ear, his hands placed on my hips. I follow his instructions, taking a breath, lowering my arm and letting go of the ball. The room feels like it slows down as the ball bounces on the table, landing into the cup.

“Good girl.”

An uncontrollable whimper leaves my lips which causes his grip on my hips to tighten, feeling my arousal pool in my panties.

“Holy shit, you won!” Macie cheers, clapping her hands as Tyler follows suit.

I don’t get a chance to respond to Macie as my body is spun around, my chest bumping into Peter’s. One of his hands cupping my cheek, the other still on my hip, his lips locking onto mine. I feel my body relax against his lips, putting my arms around his neck deepening our kiss.

Peter smiles against my lips, everyone around us whooping and hollering at our interaction. We pull away from each other, before he leans back in, quickly pecking my lips.

*Optional but I listened to this song while writing this next part*

“I love this song, Y/n come dance.” Macie almost squeals, grabbing my arm and pulling me from Peter’s embrace. “Was that as good as it looked?”

“God yes.”

Macie smiles at me before mouthing the words ‘she got that rich girl la vibe.’ gesturing to me as I flip my hair over my shoulder, laughing at my best friend. Macies hands fall to my hips, swaying to the beat with me, I place my arms around her neck singing the words with her.

Macie goes wide eyed slightly before letting go of my hips, I raise my eyebrow about to protest her actions before feeling a familiar grip. I tilt my head back, resting on his shoulder grinding my ass against his crotch, his grip tightening on my hips.

“Behave.”

I roll my eyes, spinning around in his embrace, without a second thought I lean forward, kissing up his neck before softly biting his earlobe.

“Make me.” I dont have a second to think before I’m being pulled behind Peter, a smug smile on my face. He drags me through the crowd, banging on the bathroom door before pulling me through the door with him.

His lips are instantly on mine, my back against the door, his fingertips running up and down my sides. I grab his wandering hand, placing it on my boob causing him to groan softly. I bite his bottom lip, pulling back as our eyes lock together. His lips fall to my neck, kissing and biting the skin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”

His compliment causes a shiver to run down my spine, my fingers running through his hair, pulling on his curly locks earning a moan from his lips. The warmth of his body leaves mine, grabbing my hips and picking me up, I softly squeal, shocked how easily he lifted me. Peter places me on the bathroom counter, tugging on top as I pull the flimsy lace fabric from my body, his lips instantly kissing my boobs, swiping his tongue across my nipple.

“Fuck.” I hiss, watching Peter pull my nipple between his teeth. Peter kisses down my body, pulling my skirt up letting it sit around my waist.

“You’re dripping for me.” Peter presses against my clit through the fabric of my g-string. I slowly rock my hips up, attempting to get some friction.

“Needy little girl.”

I whimper at his words, feeling myself become wetter by the second. A gasp falls from my lips as Peter pulls my panties to the side, blowing on my glistening heat.

“Please.” I beg, causing Peter to chuckle. He trails feather light kisses up my thighs before licking a stripe from my core to my clit. On instinct my fingers tangle in his hair, my head falling back against the mirror, mouth agape as moans and gasps fall from my lips like water.

“Yes, fuck.”

Peter slides a finger inside of me, causing my pussy to clench around the contact. His lips cover my clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves earning a hiss from me. Peter adds another finger, pumping in and out of my pussy, my hand slaps across my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure. Peter looks up at me, using his free hand to pull my elbow.

“Let me hear you.”

I flutter my eyes closed, Peter’s lips on my thigh, sucking and biting the skin, his fingers still buried deep inside of me.

“I’m close.”

The second the words escape me, I regret them. Peter pulls away from me, standing to undress himself. Without a second thought I fall to my knees, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Naughty girl.”

My hands fall to his pants, unbuttoning his jeans before hurriedly unzipping them. I palm his cock through his underwear, a breathless moan escaping from his lips. I tug at the fabric, having his help to pull it off. His dick springs free, my breath hitching at the size of him.

I take him in my hand, pumping up and down slowly, swirling my tongue around the head. Peter bites his lip, his fingers brushing through my hair, his eyes focusing on my every move. I lick from the base to the tip before taking him fully in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down. The sounds Peter makes cause my pussy to ache, his fingers pull on my hair, helping to guide my mouth. I gag around him as he hits the back of my throat, an unholy sound falling from his lips at the contact.

Peter pulls my mouth off him, pulling me up by my arms, placing me on the counter again. I grab his cock, running it up and down my slit, causing Peter to chuckle.

“Someone’s eager.” I simply answer him by positioning his cock at my entrance, hooking my legs around his waist to pull him into me.

I moan at the feeling of him inside of me, his eyes flutter closed at the contact, moaning at the sensation.

“You feel so good.” I smirk at him, watching his eyes flick to where our bodies meet, his thumb brushing against my clit.

I pull Peter closer to me, locking our lips together as he slides in and out of me, deeper with each thrust, causing my body to tingle, the speed of his thumb picking up before slowing right back down.

I pull away from our kiss, trailing kisses down his jaw, running my tongue down his neck, sucking and biting the skin. Peter grips my ass at the contact of my lips, spanking me hard as I rack my nails down his back.

“Just like that Peter.” I whisper in his ear, softly biting his earlobe as he groans.

“Fucking so good.”

I feel the band inside of me tighten, my pussy tightening around his cock.

“Cum for me, come on baby.” My eyes roll back, shocks of electricity flowing through me, holding onto Peter tight. Peter moans against my shoulder, biting the skin before finding his own release.

Before he pulls out, Peter kisses me, holding my face in his hands.

“You’re incredible.” Blush heats up my cheeks as he pulls out of me, hissing at the loss of contact. Peter and I both get dressed quickly, walking back out to the party, moving through the crowd to find Macie and Tyler.

I lock eyes with Macie as her mouth falls open, quickly rushing over to me and pulling me away from Peter.

“You had sex.”

“Shh, don’t tell the whole party.”

Macie rolls her eyes, moving my hair over my shoulder before wincing.

“Have fun explaining that one to your dad.”

I go wide eyed slightly, turning to the hallway mirror and seeing three hickies on my neck.

“Fucking hell.”

Macie chuckles at my expense, pulling me with her to go back to Peter and Tyler. I frown my brows, Tyler now by himself.

“Uh, where did Peter go?” I question as Tyler shrugs. I quickly look around the living room, my eyes landing on Peter watching him slip out the front door without a word.

“Did he just leave?” Macie asks almost dumb founded.

“Guess so.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Y/n, just be lucky you didn’t sleep with Peter, he’s a bit of a fuckboy to be honest.” Tyler chuckles as I feel my body fall cold. Tyler looks between myself and Macie, choking on his drink slightly. “You fucked him.”

“I’m going to head home.” I mumble, Macie quickly pulling me into a hug, walking me to her front door, the same one Peter had just ducked out of.

“You can stay.”

“It’s fine Macie, I want to shower and sleep in my own bed.” Macie smiles weakly at me, pulling me into another embrace. “I’ll text you.”

Macie nods in response as I pull my phone out, calling Happy to pick me up.

--

The next morning I wake up feeling rough, hating that I mixed different alcohol’s and feeling off about having slept with a complete stranger, knowing how unlike me that is.

“Good morning Y/n, your dad would like to see you in the kitchen.” Friday’s voice bounces off my bedroom walls. I groan at the announcement, grabbing a scrunchie to throw my hair up in a messy ponytail. I quickly look over my outfit, sweatpants and a stark industries crop jumper, good enough. I grab a pair of socks before walking out onto the cold tiles.

“Friday summoned me.” I announce walking into the kitchen, seeing my dad and the avengers sitting around the table. “Oh awesome.” I whisper.

“And what time did you get home?”

“Eleven, maybe.”

I open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and sitting on the bench, facing everyone.

“How was the party? You’ll have to tell us everything.” Wanda smiles as I nod.

“Y/n Stark, what is that on your neck?” My dad bellows, standing up and tilting my head, looking at the hickies on my neck.

“Nothing.” I push my dad away as everyone at the table snickers.

“You did tell her to go out and party.” Steve states causing my dad to turn and point at the super soldier.

“Stay out of this Rogers.”

“She’s young Tony, let her enjoy her last few weeks of school.” Nat pipes up causing my dad to tut and sit back down.

‘Thank you.’ I mouth to Steve and Nat as they both smile and nod at me.

“So why do you look like you’re having a meeting?”

“We are welcoming a new member to the avengers.” My dad states, sipping his coffee.

“Right, so why did you want me here for that?”

“Because you haven’t met him yet and you’re both going to be interning for me in a few weeks, thought it might be good to be acquainted.” I nod in response to my dad, taking a sip of my water.

“They’re all waiting for you.” I hear Happy’s voice say as he walks into the room, all of the avengers stand and look behind me, I turn and look over my shoulder, feeling my heart beat pick up, my mouth falling dry.

“Peter.” His name falls from my lips in shock.

Peter’s eyes lock onto me as he swallows harshly.

“Peter, buddy, welcome.” My dad greets him like an old friend, his eyes moving from mine to my dads.

I feel a hand grip my forearm, a gasp pulling me out of my thoughts, I quickly pull out of the grip.

“Get out of my head Wanda.”

“He did this.” Wanda whispers gesturing to my neck, Nat and Steve both looking at me. I hold my finger to my lips, pleading with my eyes.

“How much did you see?” Nat whispers to Wanda. I don’t hear Wanda’s response as my dad calls me over to him. I quickly slip off the bench, Nat with a small smirk on her face. I sigh softly knowing they know.

“You called.”

“Peter Parker, this is my daughter Y/N Stark, she will be interning with you and is typically on our communications for missions.” My dad states as Peter puts out his hand for a headshake, I scoff before accepting his gesture.

“So what’s your ability?”

“He’s Spiderman, isn’t it great to finally put a face to the suit.” My mum says, standing next to Happy. Instantly, everything from last night makes sense, the smirk he had when I whispered, the soft touches, leaving the party abruptly. It all makes sense, he knew what he was doing. He could read me like a fucking book.

“Y/n is very fond of you, she studied your web abilities.” My dad states, causing me to run my hand down my face.

“Ah, well, maybe you should show me what you learnt and I could fill in any blanks.” Peter states, causing my dad to hum in approval.

“Why don’t you do that now while I get paperwork ready for you to sign.” My dad smiles. I feel a hand cup my shoulder, looking to the right and seeing Steve.

“Steve Rogers.”

Peter grabs his outstretched hand, wincing slightly at the grip Steve gives. I slightly elbow the super soldier, knowing Wanda told him what she saw.

“Maybe Banner should go with them, do you want a teenage boy to be left alone with your teenage daughter?” Steve asks, my dad sighs before chuckling.

“Clearly she was with a teenage boy last night, I’m sure Peter here is harmless compared to last night's company.”

I hear Nat and Wanda giggle before passing it off as something else.

“Go.” My dad instructs, I sigh, turning away from him and leading the way to the lab.

The walk to the lab is silent, only my dad’s voice bouncing off the walls asking the group why they’re being weird.

I walk over to my desk, grabbing the file on ‘Web Slinger’ and handing it to Peter.

“Take it.”

Peter’s hand brushes against mine before he grabs the file, sitting in the chair beside mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Oh yeah because you gave me time to tell you.”

Peter sighs, putting the file on my desk before pulling my chair closer to him.

“Could have told me beforehand.”

“It didn’t seem to matter, how was I supposed to know who you were?”

Peter stays quiet, his eyes looking everywhere but mine.

“Not like you stayed afterwards for us to actually have a conversation.”

“I had shit to do, people to save.” Peter states, now looking at me dead in the eyes.

“Fine, I get that but couldn’t you give me your number or some way of contacting you?”

Peter once again stays quiet.

“Did you tell them? Because Captain America seems to be protective.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “No, I didn’t tell them. Wanda Maximoff read my mind, guess she told him.” Peter sighs before I continue, “Look, we can just forget it, okay? You’re a part of their team now and we’re just going to have to move on.”

Peter’s hand falls to my knee, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of my sweatpants.

“What if we don’t move on? What if we start something?”

“Peter, I don’t want you to feel you have to start something because I’m your boss's daughter, if you want to forget it ever happened we can.”

Peter tuts, moving his hand from my knee to my face.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I meant what I said last night, you’re incredible” My heartbeat picks up, butterflies erupting inside of me causing Peter to smirk. “I have an effect on you.”

“Cocky arent you.”

Peter smirks smugly, before brushing his lips against mine.

“If you don’t want to try this, stop me.” Peter hesitates for a few seconds before I close the gap between us, kissing him. Peter’s hands move under my thighs, picking me up from the chair and placing me on my desk.

“Peter Parker!” Peter jumps away from me at the shouting of my dad’s voice. “You two have some explaining to do.”

Peter scratches the back of his neck, looking at me as I shrug lightly.

“Maximoff told me, I should have listened to Rogers, but don't tell him I said that.” My dad walks over to us, grabbing the chair Peter once sat in. “I’m listening.”

Peter takes a deep breath before explaining it all to my dad, leaving out a few details as I but in to fill any holes.

| | |

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#writing wh0re #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x fem #peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker headcanon #mcu spiderman #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x fem #spiderman smut #spiderman angst

[avintagekiss24]

—you can pretend you don’t miss me; bucky barnes

pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4049

warnings: 18+ ONLY, knife kink, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, tiny bit of blood, attempted murder

challenge: @cockslut-padalecki a decade under the influence “what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat”

request: bucky barnes + “i have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight” + orgasm denial

author note: surprise! it didn’t take me two months to write something sjsksjs please enjoy fic #3 of my 5/5.5k follower celebration! also another quick congrats to lisa for hitting 10k!!

inspired by this art ; gif by @zacharylevis ; line divider by @firefly-graphics ; title inspired by billie eilish bitches broken hearts

The taste of bourbon and cigarettes is on his lips and tongue as he licks into your mouth. He moans into you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hooks your leg right around his waist. Your back is up against the heavy door of his apartment, fingers in soft brown hair, wet lips smacking and sucking, teeth nibbling on his swollen, red bottom lip. He laughs, relaxing into your kiss and lips and teeth as he anchors your weight in his metal hand, flesh hand rummaging in his almost too tight black jeans for his door key.

There’s a smirk on your face as you pull away from him. Your lips are still touching. Foreheads resting on one another's. Eyes a little shy, only connecting for fractions of seconds before they’re on the floor or a pair of lips. The jingle of keys fills the hallway, then the thunk of one as it pushes into the slot and stops hard against the rusted metal of the lock. The deadbolt slaps back into the door and with a push of his foot, and a little help from your weight being pinned against it, the swollen door scrapes against the frame as it pops open, swinging back into the wall.

Bucky slips his hands down your sides, grips your hips tight as he starts to back you inside. They stay there, those hands, as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours and dip down to your mouth where he licks his lips and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s fantasizing about wanting to feel them again. A metal hand cups your face, his palm warm as he sweeps his thumb along your cheek.

His tongue sneaks out just before your lips meet again to tease the roof of your mouth before he grabs your top lip between his. You both inhale deep, breathing each other in, a concoction of soft and sweet and smoke and warmth.

You’re not sure who moves first, whether Bucky is pushing or you’re pulling— probably a little of both— but you’re inside of his apartment before you know it. The door slams shut. Your leather jacket slips off your shoulders and hits the hardwood floor as you back further inside.

Fingers and hands are everywhere. Yanking at shirts, popping buttons, pulling zippers as lips get more desperate. You back into a set of bar stools, knocking them around just a little as you stumble and catch yourself, throwing your head back as laughter spills from you. Bucky pushes out a breath and a small laugh while he eyes you all hungry like as he pulls at his boots.

You tease him a little, putting those feminine wiles to good use— tilt your head, twist your hair around your fingers, push your tits forward. With your shirt crumpled on the floor, the titanium bars pushed through your nipples catch the soft pink, blue, and purple lights of the neon signs pouring in through the kitchen windows through the sheer mesh bralette covering your chest.

Bucky looks a mess. Hair all over his head, pants open— the band of his Hugo Boss boxers peeking out— plain black t-shirt now in a rumpled pile on the floor. His footsteps heavy as he stalks towards you. He stops short, wraps black and gold fingers around your wrist and yanks, collecting you again to crush your soft body against his hard one.

You tilt your head up towards him, eyes turning to slits, lips brushing against his as manicured fingertips push just inside his jeans. Soft tips sweep over a rigid cock, the size making a sly smile curl onto your face. This one is full of surprises.

“Well well,” you purr, kissing him quick, wet and loud, never taking your eyes off him, “I have a feeling I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, a breath pushing out through his nose as a lopsided grin paints his handsome face, “Aren’t you a smart girl.”

You curl your fingers around his neck, digging the tips into his messy hair and draw him in— dragging the wet velvet of your tongue over his mouth real slow, watching as his eyes close, “You, bed,” you instruct, “Me, bathroom.”

Footsteps fill the quiet, surprisingly lived-in apartment, the clicks of your heels and his heavy thumps as he pulls you towards the bed. He just points off to his left as he falls onto the mattress, resting a leaden head on a wide palm as he settles in. Eyes blinking at you slow as you disappear behind a white door.

The bathroom is immaculate. White. Sterile. Nothing out of place— very military of him. You undress slowly, removing your shoes one by one before moving on to your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a see through bra, waist high panties— and a black leather ankle holster housing your six inch, hand crafted, butterfly knife.

You lift your foot, place it on the white countertop and slip the blade from the holster before carefully, quietly undoing the straps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up a little straighter, roll your neck and shoulders as you stare back at your reflection. The pony tail comes down, silky hair falling over your shoulders and down your back— best fifteen hundred bucks you’ve ever spent on yourself.

Gotta look good on the day you finally get to kill the Winter Soldier.

With a soft flick of your wrist, the blade flips out and you can’t help but run a manicured finger over the edge, pressing the sharp point into the pad. You find yourself in the mirror again and tilt your head a little as your brain goes a little empty— except for maybe one thought.

You wanna fuck him. You’ve earned it, and regrettably so, you find Bucky Barnes sort of interesting. Funny. Engaging when prodded a bit but still somehow deadpan and aloof.

His huge cock doesn’t help matters either.

You sigh, oh well.

The door clicks as you open it and pass through. You keep your hands behind your back as your body softens— sinks into itself a little. Hair falls in your face as you feign shyness, batting big, soft brown eyes and sinking your teeth into an ample bottom lip.

Bucky took the time to get completely naked. Hard cock gripped in his flesh palm, slow drags from the base to the glistening tip.

God, you really kinda wish you could fuck this man.

“Come ‘ere.”

An outstretched metal hand accompanies the gentle beckoning. You move soft, a small sound of your feet sinking into the carpet before you reach out with your empty hand and slide it into warm metal, using the sturdy grip to hoist yourself up and over his stomach.

His hands find your hips— big, warm, manly hands. They slip upwards just a bit to grip the soft of your sides. Move down again for thick fingers to graze over your ass and tickle the backs of your naked thighs. Still, you palm the handle of your knife tight and high, in the small of your back, as you use your free hand to push the dark strands of hair out of your face.

Bucky’s eyes meet yours when his fingers push between your parted legs, finding a wet spot in those mesh panties. You inhale deep, blinking back at him as his fingers keep a sweet little rhythm back and forth against your cunt. Hips defy your brain and push forward into those fingers— wanting just a little more.

Maybe you can wait… maybe until after...

You lean forward before your brain can finish stringing the words together— you have to or you’d lose all your nerve and give into that weak devil telling you to taste the sin. Let him spread you open until it hurts. Your mouth finds his hot and swollen and you kiss him hard, so hard he groans into it. You pull back just enough to lick his mouth again, eyes bouncing between his.

“What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart? You need more of an invitation than this?” Bucky asks low and slow, pushing his cock right into your ass as his fingers creep inside your panties.

You smile, real nice and sweet before swooping the arm from behind your back to push the knife into his neck, “Oh nothing, baby,” you purr, “Just waiting for the right time to kill you is all.”

You lean back a little to see his face, tipping your head to the side. He’s pretty calm for a guy who’s minutes away from bleeding out on his own bed— but he is an assassin. Not much can shake him— should shake him.

Bucky blinks slow at you, hands coming to rest by his sides. His eyes don’t widen, pupils don’t dilate. Steady breathing stays just the same— he doesn’t even shift uncomfortably. Just blinks back at you. Slow. Easy. Without a fucking care in the goddamn world.

An angry heat blooms across your skin at his nonchalance as the seconds tick by. Your chest starts to rise and fall a little harder. Your eyes start to bounce between his as you suck your teeth in indignation, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

A blink is all you get.

“Of course you don’t,” you hiss, “Why would you? I was just one of many in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?” Your grip on the handle of the knife tightens as you push it harder against his skin— this time he swallows, “Who cares how many innocent lives you’ve destroyed as long as you got what you wanted.”

He still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react. Just stares up at you as you crack, laughing angrily as you take his silence mockingly, “Well, I couldn’t fuckin’ forget you. Eight years. Eight years of living in absolute terror that you’d come back for me.” You’re seething now, eyes wild, breath coming harder and faster than the one before it, “Constantly looking over my shoulder, jumping at every bark of a dog and clink of keys and slam of a car door outside my apartment— do you know how it feels to live like that? Huh? Expecting to die every second of every hour of every goddamn day?”

Another silence drops over the room and it’s just the two of you staring at each other. You’re not even sure why he isn’t fighting back— why he’s just lying there and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Of course he knows what it’s like to live like this. He’s used to it.

A trickle of blood slips down the side of his neck, the singular plop staining the white sheets below, “I’ve never thought about after— once you’re dead. What if I can’t forget you? I’ve spent so long hating you— it’s, it’s like by killing you, I’ll burn your name into my throat, you know? You’ll always just,” you tilt your head, digging the knife in a little harder, “Be there. With me always.”

The funniest thing happens as soon as the words slip through your teeth. His lips start to twitch. Curl into a smile— one where those pearly whites are on display— and then he’s laughing. Like someone just told a fucking joke.

It makes you recoil. Makes you squint and has your face twist in confusion, lips separating as a heavy breath passes through.

“Well,” he finally purrs, the laughter rumbling through his chest dying down, “Go ‘head, honey.”

When you hesitate, he pushes his chin forward, arch’s his head back to put his neck on full display, “Come on, baby. Don’t get my hopes up and not follow through.”

“You’re insane.” You hiss.

He leans up a little, another smile curling onto his lips, “In this business, you gotta be.”

The words stick in air like glue as he settles back into the pillow below his head, blue eyes twinkling underneath the soft neon lights pouring in through the windows.

He’s fucking with you. Just do it. The words echo, knocking around your brain as you stare down at him, blade still shoved into the crease of his neck. Another drop of blood plops onto the sheets below. Your lip snarls slightly, eyes narrowing as heat flashes across your skin again. He’s mocking you. After everything he’s done, all the pain— the fear.

You inhale deep, grip the handle so hard your nails dig into your palm and instinct takes over. The hatred, the built up aggression and vitriol guiding your hand, about to slash that pretty thick neck wide open. You are more than ready to see a deep red stain white sheets and blue eyes lose all of the life he’s built into them and fade away into nothingness. Just when you’re about to make your eight year long dream come true, it all flashes before your eyes.

Within a blink— half of a blink— you're off his lap, slammed up against the wall opposite the bed, warm flesh hand around your throat. You gasp hard, nearly choking on the air you can’t grab as you start to struggle, slapping at his face before swinging the knife wildly.

Bucky catches your arm with ease, squeezing your hand until you’re grunting and hissing in pain, grip relaxing around the metal. You blink again, and your knife is now pressed against your throat as you growl, struggling to no avail.

“You’re lucky baby,” he mutters, “Nobody survives that long while holding a knife to my throat.” He kisses you hard, digging his teeth into your bottom lip to drag it back with him when he pulls away, “You’re a cutie tho, so, you get a little reprieve.”

He leans back in real close, eyes roaming along your face as his head tilts, breathing easy. Staring back at him, lip curling again as you huff hard, angry breaths beating out of your nose. But your hands have come to rest on his arms. You can feel the blood coursing through the vein that’s popped out right down the center of his bicep. Your fingers flex around metal and muscle, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air conditioning tickles hot skin.

“Of course I remember you,” he whispers after a long time— too long, “I remember each and every face of the last seventy years,” his eyes bounce between yours, “I knew exactly who you were as soon as you popped up on that stupid dating app.”

Another sharp influx of air squeezes out of your throat when he drags the tip of your knife underneath your chin, down the length of your throat, down your chest. Slips it along your stomach before pushing it into the mesh that covers your chest. A flick of his wrist and you’re bare, the thin material giving way to the blade.

Your chest heaves, eyes wide, lips parting as the tip of that blade scrapes along your skin— right between your tits. Brown eyes drop to his red, wet lips quick, then shoot back to focus on his piercing blues.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted,” he whispers, flattening the blade over a piqued nipple, clinking against the metal bar piercing your thick flesh, “If you recognized me after all this time— I mean, with the new hair and everything.”

A hum sounds at the back of your throat, trembling and airy and Bucky picks it up right away— another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The fingers around your throat peel away slowly but he watches you all the while, fire behind his eyes as he tests you.

“You’re a good little actress,” words still soft but full— maybe amazed that you were able to get as close as you did, “But you knew that already, huh?”

You swallow hard, eyes tipping down to watch his fingers drift down your arm. Light little touches, “You have to be when born— ah,” the edge of the knife catches your thick nipple as he slides it across your tit.

He kisses you again, real sweet this time though. Tongue sweeping along your bottom lip as both his encase it, “I’m sorry baby. You were saying?”

Flesh fingers dance along your stomach, sweeping from hip to hip. Just the tips. Feather light drags so you don’t forget about them. His large palm grips your hip, pushes his thumb into the meat of your side and you have to close your eyes— clear your throat to center yourself. To remember why you’re there in the first place.

Sweet breath washes over your face as Bucky rolls your left nipple now into the edge of the blade— kissing you again when you shriek at the quick, sharp pain just to eat the sound. You lose the fingers around your hip, only to find them again suddenly, jumping in slight surprise as calloused pads cup a soft, wet cunt.

Bucky’s still blinking slow, fingers pushing along a swollen clit, massaging. He’s real close now, prickly cheek rubbing against yours, teeth nibbling at your jawline.

Your own fingers dig into his biceps as your eyes flutter with the tightening of your stomach. A warmth starts to spread through your veins. Hips find a little rhythm against his hand. A sharp prick here and there as he circles that knife— your own damn knife— around your tits and back up to your throat again.

That’s when he sinks two long, thick fingers into you, not stopping until his palm is flush with your sticky folds. His thumb pressed against the sensitive little nub at the center of you.

His eyes are slits, head tilted up slightly as his mouth hangs, dragging in the air you expel. Only then does his fingers start to move, delving in and out, thumb still pushing along your clit.

“God,” you pant, pushing your head upwards against the wall, “Mmm, I can’t—” his fingers push deeper and the words are gone, like they never even existed in the first place, “Fuck.”

Bucky pushes the smooth blade against your throat just a little harder— the sharp edge forcing your chin upward a little more. He flattens his thumb against your lower stomach, starts to pull his fingers, not push them. The heel of his palm starts to slap against your skin as you buck into the motion.

Your hands slip up to his shoulders, both arms wrapping lazily around either side of his neck. The soft hum from earlier is replaced with high pitched whimpers and breathy little squeaks. Bitten off words fall from your lips as you squirm against the wall, wanting him deeper, faster, harder— which he delivers without you having to say a word.

He grabs your cheeks, pinching hard as the blade flattens across your pouty lips. A weak, desperate whimper sounds, all your resolve gone. Whatever leverage you thought you had completely wiped away— and it makes a wicked grin spread on Bucky’s lips.

“You close, baby? Hmm?” he hums, licking at your mouth again, “Oh sweet girl, you wanna come, huh? You gonna come for me?”

He strokes your clit with the tip of his thumb, your walls clenching around his fingers. The gentle encouragement continues, real soft and between sweet little kisses all over your face. A dull ache settles in your belly, a thick heat starting to stir within. Your heart leaps into your throat as your hips pump with Bucky’s hand, the release so close you can taste it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, “‘m gonna fuckin—”

“You want it? Huh? Want me to make you come honey?”

You squeak in response, nodding fast as you bite down into your lip, “Please. Please.”

Heat ripples through your body as you start to tremble, legs going shaky and weak. Muscles start to burn all over as you tense hard, coaxing the sweet agony swirling in your stomach. You cry out, his name hanging on your lips as the rush of it all pushes higher and higher.

Just as you start to unravel, just as the coil begins to snap, his fingers are gone. Pulled from your cunt and clit. You’re whipped around his body, forced back towards the bed. Your mind racing— maybe you’ll be getting some of that cock afterall.

Or not.

Metal slaps around your wrist, bites into the skin as it clamps down, the clink of teeth sliding into the lock housing ringing in your ears. You snap your head towards the sound when it all finally connects in your murky brain. The horror of realization floods into your veins— blood running cold as your stomach drops to your feet.

The handcuffs clink against the dark metal headboard as you fight against it, “You bastard! You fuckin’ piece of shit, let me go!” you shout, thrashing your arm back and forth, pulling as hard as you can, “Goddamn it— let me the fuck go! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you bast—”

“Ooph,” Bucky jests, octave rising as he slips back into his jeans, “You got a filthy little mouth on you.”

“Fuck you!”

He scoffs, laughing gently as he pulls his black shirt back over his head. The bastard even starts to hum as he plops down on the edge of the bed, taking his time while he pushes his feet back into his boots and shrugs into his jacket.

You keep sharp eyes on him as he stands and turns to face you, dangling a pair of small silver keys next to his grinning face before he tosses them somewhere deep in the apartment. You swipe at him with your free hand as he approaches, just barely catching his chin as he kneals down, “I’m gonna kill you,” you smile, a blind rage engulfing every pore, every muscle, every ounce of your body.

Bucky shrugs, “Not tonight, sweets. Listen, tell Sam I’m sorry about the mess, hm?”

“Who the fuck is Sam?” you hiss.

He looks down at his watch, “Yeah, he should be home in about an hour. It’s not everyday you walk into your apartment to find a naked, wannabe assassin handcuffed to your bed, so, give him my apologies— wait, you know about Sam, right? The new Cap, they made it official a couple of weeks ago.”

Your jaw clenches as you stare back at his smiling face, more humiliation pouring through you as you realize he’s had you pegged the entire goddamn time.

“Oh baby,” he laughs again, “You didn’t honestly think I’d take you back to my place, did you? I don’t even know you— you kids today are so reckless.”

Blue eyes bounce between yours for a few seconds before he glances down at his hands, works them back into his black gloves. He pulls your butterfly knife from his back pocket and starts to play with it, flicking his wrist to close it, and then open it over and over again.

“I’m keeping this,” he offers as he locks it closed and slips it back into his pocket, “Maybe you’ll find the balls to try and take it from me.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head, “I’m taking it back.”

Bucky stands, the sound of his heavy boots sounding through the apartment as he moves towards the door, “I look forward to it kiddo.”

***

If there’s one thing you respect about Bucky Barnes, it’s his attention to detail.

Right on the dot, exactly one hour later, you snap your head towards the front door as keys start to jingle in the lock. With the bed sheet wrapped loosely around your torso, you straighten up against the wall, eyes wide as you watch an exhausted Samuel Thomas Wilson walk into his apartment.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, jumping slightly and dropping his bag to the floor when he locks eyes with you, “What in the fuck?”

“I can explain… sort of.” you start, holding up your hand.

You apparently don’t need to. Sam’s phone is to his ear within seconds as he starts to pace back and forth, “Bucky, this is not why I gave you a key to my mother fuckin’ apartment!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #5k...holy god

[secondhand-trash]

Put a Ring on It

A/N: I started it with the intention of writing a thirst post but it ended up being 1.7k of pure fluff lmao

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Word count: 1772

-

Miya Atsumu had a thing for wearing rings.

Maybe it was how he thought that they made his hands looked bigger, or how the accents never failed to draw even more attention to his slender fingers. Likely, it was just the way how most teenage boys went through a phase of wanting to look stylish and edgy without really bothering to look into having an actual style of their own, resulting in him halting a baggy t-shirt, cargo pants and an unnecessary amount of rings as the peak of men’s fashion. You had your own thoughts on how he was so determined to slip a ring or two into whatever he was wearing whenever he was out of his uniform. You made fun of his sense of fashion none stop, pointing to his bleached hair that has faded from the gold it was supposed to be into a sharp yellow and cheap chunky jewelry as the main culprit.

“You look like a delinquent who smokes cheap cigarettes in parks after school.”

You sniggered when he let out an offended ‘huh’. His chunky silver rings that had obnoxiously prominent carvings on the side brushed dug into the gap between your fingers as he squeezed your hand tighter when he snapped towards your direction. Your free hand, the one that wasn’t in a lock hold by his ring clad one, reached out to brush away his side-swooped bangs. His hair was fried from the boxed bleach he used regularly but as a side perk, the dryness did add to the volume of his hair.

He stood there still as you carefully pushed his hair back, his upper body leaning towards your direction just a little so you didn’t have to struggle to reach him despite his initial protests. You were messing with his hair and he was looking at you, only at you, with his fingers still linked with yours even though you always complained about his rings making it hard for you to hold his hand.

You finally pulled back and your gaze dropped from his bangs to his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when you met his eyes and they were full of you.

You cursed your weak heart for its sudden moment of swooning when he stood back up straight and his ring scratched against the inside of your finger.

You sighed, “You are so lucky you have a nice face so that people will be too caught up to notice how you dressed.”

Atsumu pretended he couldn’t hear the second half of the sentence and decided to focus on how you said he had a nice face instead.

But then you graduated from high school and he slowly started dressing less like a disastrous teenage boy and more like a proper adult. That athlete money did him well and he was finally able to dress the way he wanted to dress without having to turn into a questionable direction because of monetary limits. The baggy pants were gone from his closet, replaced with pants that actually fit his body and elevate things instead of holding back the visual upper hand he was supposed to have because of his physiques. He finally stopped bleaching his own hair after your many years of nagging but you nearly lost your composure when he showed up in front of your door to pick you up with his new hair for the first time.

“I got the stylist to trim my bangs for me,” he said as he ran his hand through the curl sitting at the side of his forehead and you gulped when you realised that his hair was soft enough for fingers to go through them with ease now, “I���m still trying to get used to not having things over my eye.”

“Oh?” you replied, your voice breathy as you tried to calm down your sea of thoughts at the sight of your boyfriend’s new look. 

You were aware that he was good looking, but everything that he was not born with used to be questionable so it balanced things out. Now he was wearing tight-fitted jeans that made his legs look even more toned as if it was even possible, with a white t-shirt that was tugged in loosely. He had a blazer on too, probably because you made him take you somewhere nice in celebration of his first VLeague cheque, but at this point you were almost certain he had that thing on just to drive you insane. 

And his hair, his god damn windswept fluffy no longer bright yellow hair.

“Do you think I should grow it longer?” he asked as he rubbed the tip of his bangs between the pads of his finger. The silver that sat at the bottom of his digits contrasted starkly with the pale gold and it finally dawned upon you that he stopped wearing the cheap rings you used to make fun of him for a while ago. 

Oh dear, now he was actually hot.

“No,” you blurted out, “it looks nicer this way.”

"You think so?” he asked as you forced your legs to move past your door before shutting it behind your back firmly. You had to force yourself to go out before the urge to make him come in could win, or else you would most certainly end up doing things that would make you miss your reservation.

And you had been excited to leech off of his athlete money.

“Yes, yes I do think so,” you said as you grabbed his hand to pull him along with you. 

You groaned in satisfaction when you realised his new rings did not stop you from sliding your fingers between his like the old ones did.

You started having fewer objections towards his choice of accessaries after his general fashion sense shifted for the better. You even started liking the rings after a while, crediting it to him opting for designs with more simplicity. You liked the way the metal was already warm from his heat when he put his hand on your thigh out of nowhere because he was bored, or when he was at the driver’s seat and the pad of his finger drummed against your skin steadily as he waited for the lights to change. The warmth of his hand always brought you security and he was well aware that nothing called your attention to him like it did. You were not even sure if he was aware, but he had a habit of toying with his rings whenever you were neglecting him because you had your attention on something else. The band he was playing with always ended up off his finger and up yours when you were least expecting it, the feeling of his calloused finger holding your hand as he slid it down always managed to call your gaze back to him.

‘What a child,’ you chuckled to yourself when he looked at you innocently like he could not be having any hidden thoughts, his hand still holding onto yours as he held the ring that was too large for your finger from falling down.

So being the child he was, who always couldn’t fathom the thought of letting you leave his side and was equally eager to let the world know he wasn’t leaving yours, it did not surprise you at all when you were tidying up your drawers one day to find a velvet box tugged all the way back into his sock drawer.

You had a feeling it was exactly what you thought it was, and you laughed at the image of him trying to find somewhere to hide it in the house while you were not around.

Of course, leave it up to Miya Atsumu to hide a ring at the back of his sock drawer because he thought it was the one place you wouldn’t look into unless you were left with no choice.

You giggled to yourself and closed the drawer, letting the box stayed right where it was.

You weren’t looking. You wanted to, but you weren’t. Because you knew he would whine to no end if you didn’t look as surprised as he wanted you to be when he finally showed it to you for real.

He still had no clue that you already knew it was coming when he got down on one knee and took the box out of his pocket with shaky hands. He cried when you said yes and you cried when he started crying, even though you had already rehearsed in your head for a million times on how you would say yes ever since you saw the velvet box inside of his sock drawer. 

He was still sobbing when he realised he needed to get up from the ground, wiping his tears away on the sleeve of his very expensive blazer before clumsily taking the ring out of the box to put it on your finger. Miya Atsumu was an ugly crier through and through and you finally admitted to yourself that you were a whipped fool when you still wanted to kiss his stupid face even though his eyes were swollen and he missed your finger a few times before finally getting the ring in.

“Now we match,” he said with a hiccup, laughing but sounding like he was about to break down into another round of tears as soon as the chuckle left his mouth, “you can’t make fun of my rings anymore.”

He was so dumb, and you felt like crying again when he took out an identical ring from his pocket and put it on his own hand. Who the hell does that? You wanted to laugh at him but you couldn’t, because you knew you would start sobbing again if you do that.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, grabbing his hand to steady him because he was shaking and you were sure he might just drop the ring if he kept fidgeting.

He sniffled, grinning ear to ear through his tears when he saw the ring that sat on your finger.

“So?” he said, happily holding your hand in his to look at how perfectly it fits, the rings and your hands, “You can’t get rid of me now, I got the ring to prove it.”

You huffed, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when he rubbed his fingers along his engagement ring like he was making sure that it was still there.

You decided that it would be your favourite ring of his until you get to put the wedding band onto his finger yourself.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagines

[contemplativepancakes]

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

-

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

-

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

-

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

-

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

-

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

-

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

-

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

-

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

-

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

-

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

-

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #contemplative writing #vampire! geralt