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frenziedfireworks · 7 months

Text

First Time

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : You've been trying to figure out how to bring up sex to your boyfriend..

CW : SMUT, 18+, virgin!reader, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, nervous/awkward reader, praise, creampie

A/N : I am sorry I am a few days behind on kinktober! I am working on all the stories now and hopefully posting them soon! I've not been feeling amazing.

masterlist

Fred was an amazing boyfriend. He respected your boundaries and only wanted you to feel safe with him. The two of you hadn’t even brought up the topic of sex despite being together for a few months now. Lately however, you had been thinking of it quite a lot. It didn’t help that every time he got back from quidditch practice all sweaty it made you.. horny.

You squirmed against Fred’s bed as you listened to him talk about some ‘wonderful plan’ Wood had come up with. Frankly you couldn’t pay attention as your eyes wandered his bare chest and your nervous thoughts arose again. Did you want to ask? Would he laugh at you for being so inexperienced? You didn’t know.

“Love, are you even listening?” Fred laughed as he turned to face you, throwing his dirty clothes in his hamper. You shook your head and smiled.

“Yeah Fred, sorry. Just got a bit distracted.”

Fred’s eyebrow raised as he walked closer, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Is something wrong? Do I need to prank someone?”

You couldn’t help but snort at the last part.

“No Fred. Nothing bad.”

“Then what was it dear? Just admiring your handsome, amazing, gorgeous boyfriend?” Fred teased as he struck a pose. You rolled your eyes as you held back your true answer.

“Oh of course. Don’t forget humble too.”

“Oh yes. I am quite humble aren’t I?” Fred grinned as he leaned in to steal a quick kiss. Your hands tangled against his locks and he groaned against your lips. The kiss became more heated, both of you laying against the bed as your tongues brushed past eachother. Fred, ever so respectful, kept his hands on your arms. As much as you felt honored by his movements you couldn’t help but get a little annoyed. Did he not want you? No.. you were just overthinking.

Fred moved back, brushing his hand against your cheek.

“Darling, something is bothering you. You might as well tell me. Then neither of us have to worry.”

You bit your lip as you thought about how to word it. Your stomach churned at the thought of embarrassment and how he would respond. You knew him better than to expect something bad but it still was.. nerve racking.

“Well.. I just. Do you ever think about sex?” You blurted out and automatically wanted to smack yourself. Way to be subtle..

Fred’s smile turned into a smirk, his hands dusting your shoulders.

“Is someone horny? Is that what’s wrong?”

You could feel your face burn as you looked anywhere but him. Fred’s hand rubbed at your cheek redirecting your eyes back to his.

“You don’t need to be nervous, love. It’s a normal thing. If I was wrong you can tell me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Fred’s voice was calm, his eyes softening with affection. You couldn’t help but feel the urge grow stronger at his care.

“I-I.. You’re right. I am just really nervous.”

“About what?” Fred placed a few smooches against your jaw as he worked his hand down your arm.

“I’ve never done this before Fred..”

Fred’s smile grew larger at your words as he pulled you closer.

“And you want it to be with me? I’m honoured. I’ll be gentle if this is what you want..”

You could only nod and Fred took it as a sign to move. His lips pressed into yours again, starting the kiss out slow. Your need overpowered his soft urges and you deepened the kiss, your hands roaming down his chest. You pushed yourself against his form and let out a moan as his hands trailed across your ass.

“Can I touch you?” Fred whispered as he stalled his hands around your waistband. Your breaths were harsh as you felt your core pulse.

“Yes Fred.. Please.”

Fred’s hands were quick to action, helping you to shimmy your pants down. You could feel yourself growing nervous under his gaze. He rubbed your thighs, leaning down to kiss on the insides of them.

“You’re gorgeous. I love you.. All of you.” Fred licked at the skin and pulled, making you gasp in surprise. He chuckled against you as his fingers rubbed over the wet spot on your panties, making your legs wrap tightly around his shoulders.

“So responsive.. I bet you taste even better.” Fred continued his pats to your thigh as he pushed your underwear to the side. You shivered at the cold air against your moist core, turning your face away from the erotic sight. It was nerve racking and hot at the same time.

“Darling have you fingered yourself before?” Fred questioned as his fingers ran up and down your folds. Your mind was so distracted you could barely take in his words.

“Y-Yes..” You stuttered out as his thumb circled your nub, already making you clench.

“What a good girl. I’m going to use a finger to prep you.. Alright? You just relax and enjoy it.” Fred continued his ministrations to the outside of your pussy for a bit before he deemed it ‘good enough’. You felt his digit tease at your hole, your eyes tightening together as you desperately awaited.

“Relax, it’s not going to hurt you.” Fred chuckled as his finger continued to circle and you groaned.

“I’m not scared.. I just want it.” Your words seemed to shock Fred as his eyes went wide before a wicked smirk appeared on his face.

“You want it, yeah? I’ll give you it, baby.” Fred’s fingers finally took the plunge, making you throw your head back in pleasure. He pumped them in slowly, letting you adjust before he picked up the pace.

“Feel good? You look like you taste amazing..” Fred whispered out, his face getting closer and closer to your cunt. You felt your body jerk as the realization of what he was about to do dawned on you.

“Fred.. You don’t want to put your mouth there.” You felt yourself burn and tighten around his finger, your body wracked with apprehension.

“Oh but doll.. I do.” Fred gave you another look to make sure you were fine with it before his mouth closed against you. Your hands grasped at his hair as your cunt spasmed at the new sensation. It was all so much, his finger, his tongue, his watchful eyes.

“Fred I’m gonna..” You choked out, your body just a few seconds from flying over the edge. Fred just nodded as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“Cum for me.”

You did as you were told, falling apart against his mouth. His tongue lapped at your juices making you jump at the sensitivity. Fred stood up as he stripped most of his clothes, leaving him in just boxers. He sat down next to you, rubbing at your torso with a wide smile.

“Are you still sure about everything? We can just leave it there if you feel nervous. I am so proud of you darling..”

You shook your head. There was no going back now and you definitely didn’t want to. Even after already finishing you could feel the desperation in you beginning to ramp up again. Your eyes wandered along the tent in his underpants before looking back up to him.

“No.. I want you Fred.” You leaned in to kiss him, your hands mimicking what he did to you. He hummed at your actions and began to help with the fabric confinement in the way. You pulled back and watched as his cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach. The tip was an angry shade of red and dripped with precum. You could feel yourself gush at the sight, a sudden urge to lick at the slick filling your mind.

“You like what you see?” Fred laughed as he pulled your legs apart, slipping between them. His cock nudged at your folds and you felt yourself shake with anticipation. This was it.

“Do it…” You choked out, tired of how slow he was going. You appreciated his care but now the need in you was growing far too strong. So strong that it outweighed any anxious thoughts you once had minutes ago.

“As you wish.” Fred slowly began to enter you, your body tensing at the harsh feeling. Your eyes watered a bit as he continued, trying your best to adjust. Fred took notice of your discomfort, his thumb beginning to circle around your pulse point.

“There there darling. It’ll feel good soon I promise.”

It took a while before your body got used to the intrusion and you nodded for him to move. He began to thrust shallowly in and out of you, watching to make sure you were alright. The more movement he made the more you got used to it, slowly feeling the sharp pains turn to ones of pleasure.

“Oh..” You gasped as he bottomed out and Fred took notice of the change. He smirked and began to thrust harder, your mind going dumb with ecstasy.

“That feel good? Your pretty pussy feels good around my cock. Squeezing me so damn hard.. I don’t think I’m gonna last too long.”

Your lips mumbled out incoherent yeses as he continued to gain speed, pushing you deeper against the mattress. You could feel the string in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, your eyes meeting his with a plea.

“F-fuck. Cum for me.. I love you.” Fred’s thrusts became sloppy as you peeked, your cunt spasming against him, your legs locking him in place.

“Fred-” You gasped as you felt his hot seed fill up inside of you, his head falling against your shoulder as he came.

Slowly he pulled out and fell next to you in bed. You rubbed at his sweaty cheek, moving a bit of hair off his forehead as you both shared a sweet kiss.

“I love you Fred.” You whispered out.

“I love you too Y/N. I hope I made your first time special.” Fred pulled you against his chest and you listened to his heartbeat. You felt full and satisfied. Not only did you not have to overthink anymore but you would remember this moment forever.

“You did. Thank you.”

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #weasley twins #weasley twin imagines #weasley twins smut #harry potter #harry potter imagines

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star-girl69 · 3 months

Text

Apocalypse

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: a day of capture the flag, and clarisse finds out you’re ashamed of your scars.

a/n: love love love love love also from this ask

Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: shitty ending but IDC!!!!!!!, hurt/comfort, more hurt/comfort, god i need to be put down, insecure y/n, scars and all that stuff, possessive clarisse, protective clarisse, soft clarisse, probs ooc clarisse, yeah, swearing, mentions of food, mac n’ cheese is y/n’s fav but you can just pretend if you’re a weirdo and don’t like mac n’ cheese, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“I don’t get it,” he laughs. “How can you be a daughter of Aphrodite and still have those ugly scars all over you?”

You pretend like you don’t hear him, leaning your head back against the tree, staring up at the blue sky through the gaps.

Him and his two friends have been teasing you the entire 20 minutes you’ve been tied up to this tree, captured by the blue team.

That was horribly embarrassing, but you were doing your best to ignore it- instead doing your best to pray to whatever God would listen that Clarisse would win for the red team.

It’s just plain stupid. He’s been saying the same thing over and over again for 20 minutes- can he at least come up with something original?

Besides, you don’t see where he gets off from this. It’s not like you give any reaction, or even look at him. The most you give him is the occasional squeeze of your hands- imagining his neck under them.

“Maybe she’s forsaken you,” he hums, kicking at your limp leg.

You finally look up at him. You’re sitting on the ground, arms at your sides, back pressed to the tree and rope digging tightly into your chest.

“Maybe your mother gave up on you after the second scar,” he says, staring straight into your eyes. “And then you’ve just gotten uglier and uglier ever since.”

You have scars all over your body. Clarisse has them too, and she shows them off proudly, a dramatic story for each one. You have a horrible memory, so you don’t remember all of them- but the tiny one on your jawline is from you accidentally tripping with scissors in your hand as a kid.

Clarisse had laughed hysterically when you told her about that one, pulling you closer when you pouted, saying something about how she was going to carry all scissors for you in the future.

The one on your collarbone is from sparring gone awry. Clarisse likes to kiss that one- it’s silvery smooth, she says some bullshit about how it feels like your lips.

The big one on your arm is from some clawed monster getting a bit too close to you- slashing at your arm and leaving a permanent tattoo of your failure to kill the monster. Or at least successfully run away.

Then, there’s all the tiny ones you can’t remember.

The boy, you seriously don’t even know his name, looks at you. There’s fire in his eyes, he wants a fight, but you won’t give him one. Especially not when your stomach squeezes inside of you in a way that makes you feel like you might throw up.

The conch mercifully blows, even as you feel sick- you don’t want to let his words effect you. But you just can’t help it.

He gives you an odd look, like he’s contemplating just leaving you out there- but eventually releases you. You stand up, dusting yourself off, grabbing your sword from where it was discarded on the ground.

“Good game!” you say, smiling brightly, but you can’t even pretend to be nice to him, so it tapers off into a laugh. He glares at you, but you’re already jogging through the woods, eager to see Clarisse again.

—-

The blue flag waves proudly above a sea of orange camp t-shirts and red helmets, so you smile widely and skip down to the beach. Your team has formed this huge pit of people, everyone congratulating each other, shouting and celebrating. You stick your sword in the sand as you head into it- one person on your mind.

“Clarisse!” you shout, heading straight towards the middle. “Clarisse!”

She actually rips apart two people hugging to meet you.

“Baby!” she says, even when the two people give her dirty looks, pushing past them and into your arms. “We won!” she giggles, kissing your cheek.

“I know,” you smile, digging your face into her neck. She holds you there for just a moment, hand on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of her girlfriend running to her after a long day.

“Are you tired?” she fusses, squeezing your waist. “What happened? Did you get hurt? I knew I should have made you stay with me-”

“No, Clar,” you laugh, taking your face out of the hiding spot that is her neck and pressing your noses together. “I got captured,” you sigh.

Her fingers wind through your hair.

She scans the crowd, like she might just beat up any random member of the blue team.

“If they don’t learn to not fucking touch you I am going to make them learn.”

“Guard dog,” you tease her.

“And?” she says, leaning down to kiss the scar she loves kissing, right at the beginning of your collarbone. It makes you freeze. “You love it,” she mumbles against your skin.

You can’t think of an answer.

When you stay silent, she looks up at you, confusion in her face.

“What? You look… sad. Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?”

“N-nothing,” you breathe, because it’s just embarrassing to know you let his words get to you like this.

“You can tell me anything,” she says, searching your eyes.

“I know.”

The conch blows, making you jump at the sudden loud noise. “Lunch!” someone shouts, and Clarisse settles for just grabbing your hand, walking with you back to camp.

—-

You stop by your cabins first, taking off your armor and switching into clean camp shirts. You hesitate for a second, but eventually put on a thin long-sleeved shirt under the orange.

You take extra care in reapplying your makeup, making sure to cover the scar on your collarbone and your jaw, and once everything is as covered as it’s gonna get you set out.

Clarisse is waiting for you outside the Aphrodite cabin, smiling as you open the door, applying lipstick with one hand. She grabs your hand and helps you down the steps, admiring the way you’re so intensely focused on getting the perfect lip, even without a mirror.

It’s not like you have to try very hard, but still.

“I don’t mind waiting a second longer,” she says, bringing you closer by the waist as you tube the lipstick and stick it in your pocket.

“You’re a hungry demon after capture the flag.”

“Yeah,” she says, not really trying to deny it.

You smile and lean against her, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“Oh, do I look pretty now?” she asks, rubbing in the lipstick that came off onto her lips.

“Always,” you smile.

Her eyes focus in on the green sleeves pulled up to your wrists.

“It’s, like, 100 degrees, baby. You’re gonna boil.”

You frown and shake your head. “No, it’s not that bad. I’m cold.”

She looks at you oddly, but seems to begrudgingly accept it, hand against your forehead as she brushes your hair back. You make it into the buffet style line for lunch, grabbing plates, Clarisse quickly piling hers with a cheeseburger and a hot dog, making you laugh.

“You’re so hungry, all the time,” you mutter when she gives you a dirty look.

“I work out all the time,” she glares. She flexes her arm. “All of this takes a lot of work.”

You stare at her muscles peeking out from just under her sleeves, biting your lip as you quickly look away. She smiles brightly.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought. You love these muscles, don’t judge me.”

You make your way down the line, scanning the trays of food.

“Ooh,” Clarisse coos, “They have your fave, pretty thing.”

She scoops probably the biggest portion of mac n’ cheese you’ve ever seen in your life, slapping it onto your plate with a smile.

You gape at the now almost empty tray, remembering the still long line behind you. Hopefully there’s another one somewhere.

“Clarisse, we should save some for everyone else.”

She seems actually confused by that statement.

“Uh, yeah, no. My girl gets the best.”

“Clarisse-” but you’ve reached the end of the line and she heads off to a table. You follow her, begrudgingly, because you really do covet this mac n’ cheese like it’s ambrosia.

—-

By the time the night rolls around, you’ve retreated into the blankets of your bed, feeling much safer completely covered up. You’re supposed to be going to the bonfire- all of your siblings have come over and bugged you at least once about going, but you’ve refused them all.

Finally, all of your siblings leave in their pretty but revealing outfits- after today, you don’t think you could ever wear something like that again.

The door to your cabin creaks open.

“Y/N?”

You make a mumbled sound in the back of your throat that’s supposed to resemble “I’m here” but Clarisse is already walking over to you and pulling the blanket off of you.

“Silena told me you were staying back. Why?”

You pull the blanket back up over yourself.

“I’m jus’ tired.”

“Okay…” she says, sitting down on the bed. She puts her warm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a headache?”

“No, Clar, I’m fine.”

“I’m confused,” she huffs. “You love the bonfires. Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m just tired, Clarisse, that’s all.”

“Fine,” she says. “I can be tired too.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed with you, under the blankets, chest pressed against your back.

“I’m not good at this. You know that,” she sighs after a second. “And I wish I was. But I do know something’s wrong. And I really don’t know for the life of me what it is, but I really want to know. I really want to help you.”

She traces her fingertips up and down your arms, tracing over the silvery scar from the monster- and you involuntarily jerk away.

“Oh,” she says. She’s painfully observant. She notices everything. She notices you pulling away when she touches your scars. “Your scars.”

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

“W-when I got captured, this boy kept teasing me. And I tried not to let it bother me, I tried not to give him a reaction… but I just- what if I’m not worthy of my mother anymore? It’s embarrassing. I know. But I…”

“Who the fuck said that to you?”

She sits up, eyes blazing, like she can just imagine it and whoever hurt you will suddenly feel her wrath.

You turn around so you’re facing her, laughing.

“I don’t even know his stupid name,” you mutter.

She looks down at you, at the tears spilling from your pretty eyes.

“I’ll kill him later,” she mumbles, settling back down and kissing the corner of your cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve never met your mother, of course, so I can say that without getting us both struck down by doves, or something.”

You swat her chest.

“I’ll kill you with doves, watch me.”

She hums. “Probably. Okay, stop. You’re getting me off topic.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not good with my words,” she whispers. “But I hope I show you everyday that you are the only woman I have eyes for. This is, like, really embarrassing… but I’ve planned out our entire lives together. We’re gonna go to to college in Arizona by my mom, we’ll have an apartment off-campus, and after we graduate we’ll get married. I really wanna be married to you. And I don’t care if that’s cheesy, I just really want you to look at the ring I’ll give you and be able to feel all my love. Besides, if you ever want to get away from me, it’ll be a hell of a lot harder.”

“I would never wanna get away from you, Clar,” you smile. “It’s not embarrassing. I wanna go to college in Arizona. I wanna marry you.”

“Good, because you didn’t really have a choice,” she smiles.

“And you’re plenty good with your words.”

“Yeah… okay, I guess. But let me show you, too.”

“What does that even-”

She shuts you up by kissing your lips.

“I love your lips. I love how soft they are, and how they feel so perfect against me.”

She kisses your cheek.

“I like your cheeks for the same reasons.”

Your temple, your forehead, your nose.

“Same reasons,” she smiles.

Finally she ends up at your jawline. She rubs over the scar, taking concealer and foundation with the pad of her thumb.

“And I love this scar. It looks kind of like a C, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Freak,” you huff, and she doesn’t have to say it. You both know you love it.

She kisses your neck and talks about how she loves the way you get mad at her for leaving hickeys, the dedication you pour into covering them up before you eventually decide it’s too much effort and let them show.

She kisses the scar on your collarbone.

“I like putting my head here, right under your chin. I can feel your pulse. I can hear you swallow, too, which is weird but also soothing.”

She kisses from your shoulder and down to your arm, skimming past the scar. She kisses the back of your hand and your fingertips.

“I love it when you braid my hair, or just put your hands in my hair for… other reasons.”

“Freak,” you mumble again. “You’re just obsessed with kissing me.”

“True,” she hums, kissing back up to your scar. “I don’t have anything poetic to say about this one. It’s just fucking badass. I mean, you got it when you were 12- you survived what most have been something truly monstrous to leave a scar like this, and that’s all you get? Most of the kids here would have died. Even the ones our age. And you escaped when you were only 12.”

You smile like a lovesick fool. The apocalypse could be going on outside, and you would just be here with Clarisse.

“In conclusion, your beauty is actually life changing. I mean, have you seen me? I become a total softie, just for you. And it’s all because I like seeing that pretty smile on your gorgeous face. But you frown pretty, too, which I didn’t even know was possible- so I win either way.”

You smile and put your hand on her face, kissing her softly.

“Thank you, Clar. For always taking care of me, and reassuring me…”

“It’s quite literally my job,” she smiles. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“You don’t even trust me, Little Miss Makes-My-Plate-For-Me.”

She laughs and presses her head under your chin, her hair tickling your skin, pressing a kiss to your scar.

“It’s my job,” she smiles. “As your girlfriend and future wife.”

“I love you, Clarisse,” you whisper, a secret just for the two of you. Nothing can have you here. No pain, no suffering.

“I love you too,” she says. “I love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

—-

the kid who bullied you walking around with a big ass scar on his cheek the next day 😍😍😍😍😍 no….. no clarisse did not cut him with her spear….. ofc not….

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 11 months

Note

Hello!! I love your hantengu x Wifey! Reader, I been giggling and kicking my feet while reading this fluff, But i have a questions of this story, like.. how did the clones and reader got married? How did they met? What makes them fall for reader (or how reader fall for them? :D

How the hantengu clones found their wife

Warnings: slightly suggestive

PART 1

PART 2

It was the dead of winter, and (Name) had been taking care of her parents cabin the best she could. The young woman lived by herself ever since her parents had passed away from sickness. Although she tolerated the cold and loneliness to protect her childhood home, she often felt lonely in the large cabin.

After gathering all the firewood she could carry, she placed the damp logs and twigs next to the already roaring fire to dry. She heaved an older log into the flames, then turned away to work on dinner.

(Name) hosted a pot onto her stove to prepare a meal for herself when she heard a cry from outside. She froze in her spot, clutching her shirt in fright. The anguish in the voice caused her heart to throb.

“H-help! Please!”

(Name) had always had a heart of gold. In her youth shed rescue wildlife and go into town to help the elderly with tasks. Now she was a woman, and knew better than to go outside into the night when she heard someone call for help. It could be a trap.

This didn’t stop her from throwing on her thickest coat and snow shoes, though. She slid her door open, then closed it behind her. In her knife she held a kitchen knife, and in the other a lantern.

“H-hello?” She called into the darkness, holding her coat closed over her chest. The knife was now differ behinds the thick folds of her coat, though the feeling of its cold blade against her skin did little to comfort her.

She approached the woods, where the sound had been coming from. When she finally reached her destination, she gasped and quickly dropped her knife to kneel down next to a figure in the snow.

The figure belonged to an older man, who’s appearance was obviously strange. He gasped out when she reached out to touch him, covering his face and crying.

“You- you’re with them aren’t you? Don’t hurt me!”

(Name)’s gaze softened and she kneeled down in the snow, slowly reaching down to cup his cheek. “Sir, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not with anyone, promise.”

He whimpered, lightly leaning into her soft feminine touch. She smiled and helped him up, before realizing he wouldn’t be able to walk.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll carry you.”

The man was surprisingly light. She feared he may be an abused elder, something that was on a rise in her community. Sometimes the sleepy would wander the forest and beg to not be sent back home, but unfortunately that’s all she could usually do. Harboring a missing person could land her in jail, and she certainly did not want that!

“You’re too kind… so kind.”

(Name) could feel his tears run down her neck as he cried. She tried her best to ignore the feeling of his tears slowly turning to ice against her skin.

Once they were inside, she helped the gentleman into bed. It was dark inside her home now, and though she had candlelight and could certainly tell he looked strange, this wasn’t going to stop her from caring for him.

“Sir, can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

(Name) squeezed out some excess water from a rag and laid it on his forehead. He was surprisingly warm, his breathing shallow.

“I was poisoned…”

“What?! Oh dear I’ll need to fetch a doctor right-“

The man grabbed her wrist as she turned to leave with surprising force. He released her before she could process his overwhelming strength.

“No doctors. This will go away on its own… just need rest.”

(Name) nodded slowly, sitting down next to him. As the night went on, he requested she tightly close the blinds, stating sunlight would worsen the poison. She didn’t know a poison that would react to sunlight, nevertheless she did as she was told.

“Sir, are you hungry? I was just about to cook dinner.”

The man pondered her words for a moment, before nodding. “Yes. Thank you.”

She grinned, pushing the hair out of his face.

“One last thing. What’s your name?”

He sighed, content to have such a kind woman watching over him. “Hantengu.”

—————

(Name) busied herself in the kitchen, putting together a simple beef stew. It would have enough nutrients for someone sick and be quick enough to feed the two before going to bed.

When she finished she slowly hand fed her guest, cleaning his face after. He thanked her after he finished and grasped her hand.

“You have such beautiful hands, (Name). You would make a wonderful wife, you know?”

(Name)’s face heated up and she laughed, waving her hand. “No, no, I’m not good enough to be someone’s wife. I’m just a simple woman.”

Hantengu didn’t reply, only squeezing her hand lightly, before falling asleep. (Name) slipped her hand from his grasp and tiptoed away.

She undressed, hanging up her winter kimono and slipping on a nightgown. She looked at herself in the mirror, sighed, then tucked herself into bed.

———————

‘Mmm… warm…’

(Name) snuggled into something warm, the feeling enveloping her. The cold of the winter was far from her mind, the only thing she could think of was…

‘Wait… why do I feel hands on my waist?’

(Name)’s eyes shot open, and try as she might she couldn’t get up. She looked around her surroundings to try and see what was holding her down, only for shock to take over.

Laying on either side of her were extremely muscular men. They had a strange demonic look to them, with horns sprouting from their heads, one of them even having wings!!

“You’re finally awake, (Name)~”

The one behind her nuzzled into her neck, gently nipping at weak spots. She gasped, reaching her hands back to gently push him away. Her action did nothing, pushing the man felt like pushing a metal statue. His yellow eyes watched her in amusement.

“Aww, look, she’s so confused!”

She quickly turned to face the man in front of her who lied on his side to stare at her. He smirked, tilting her chin up to take a better look at her face.

“Sekido was right, she is perfect.”

(Name) blinked, watching the man in front of her lean in closer. She slammed her eyes shut, only to have the feeling of his tongue sliding down her cheek.

“Tastes so sweet. Urogi, tell the others she’s awake.”

Once Urogi left the room, the other man pulled her into his lap. He bounced her up and down on his leg, pulling at her nightgown.

“H-hey! Stop that!” She pulled the hem of her nightgown away, her cheeks flushed. He only chuckled, moving his hands from her night up to her waist.

“So soft and warm. Humans always are so soft and smell so good, but you smell the best. Mmm…”

He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. (Name) couldn’t help but whimper at the man’s close proximity. She’d lived a quiet life with her parents, and now some creature was fondling her in her childhood home. Her parents would be so disappointed!

She tried to pretend to dislike the attention she was getting, but couldn’t ignore her fluttering heart. No one had ever treated her like a woman before, and he certainly was.

(Name) jumped when the door opened, nearly falling and hitting her head. Before she could think someone was catching her in their arms.

(Name) looked up to see a demon with the prettiest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with hesitation, holding her up just long enough to stand in her feet. She didn’t even notice she was leaning into his touch, her only indication was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke.

“(Name), we’ve been waiting for you. Sekido needs to speak with you.”

He spoke as if you had known each other for years, guiding you with his large clawed hands ever so gently to the living room.

Sat on your father’s favorite chair was a man with red eyes, his aura was intimidating. (Name) shrunk away, clinging into the blue eyed man’s side. He pat her head reassuringly.

“Sekido, you may want to try and look less frightening. Humans are fragile beings, and she is a woman.” He was calm, the feeling of (Name) clinging to his side filling his chest with pride. Sekido frowned, but tried his best to remain calm.

(Name) turned and looked at Sekido with her big (e/c) eyes, causing the man to smirk.

“Perfect. Come here, woman.”

When she didn’t move, he turned his gaze to the man. “Aizetsu, bring her.”

Aizetsu obliged, walking forward. “Karaku, bring the ring.”

Sekido pulled the woman into his lap, resting his hand on her stomach. She shivered as his breath tickled her neck.

Karaku walked into the room, holding a purple pouch in his clawed hand. He approached (Name) keeping his eyes locked on hers. She tried, but couldn’t look away from his glowing green orbs.

Karaku plopped the bag into her awaiting hands, giving her a kiss on her forehead before he backed away.

She stared down at the cloth bag, wondering why she had been given it. Sekido’s already short patience wore thin and he yelled at her to open it.

“O-ok!”

She opened the bag, wiggling around in his lap to untangle the cord. He grunted, holding her hips still. She tried to ignore the feeling of something poking her but as she finally got the bag open.

(Name) turned it upside down and shook it lightly. The feeling of cold metal hitting her palm was enough to tell her it had fallen out.

“It’s… a ring.”

(Name) gazed down at the silver ring, a simple crystal in the middle. It was the only jewelry she’d ever held, and she was immediately captivated by it.

“Yes. I heard human women like to be proposed to with rings.” Sekido smirked, his chest swelling with pride. She turned to look at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Propose? You want to marry… me?”

All the men in the room voiced their approval, gathering around her. Sekido, stood, holding her in his arms with ease.

“You can think this over, but it’s made up in our minds. You are ours, but according to human customs we will give you time to think things over.”

She didn’t think he understood what thinking things over meant.

——————

Having a bunch of men crowd in her house was a lot less scary than (Name) thought it would be.

Aizetsu helped her clean, Urogi helped her cook, Karaku gathered firewood, and Sekido did repairs on she couldn’t.

Along with their helpful actions, the men had been behaving… strangely. She’d already figured out they weren’t human from their appearances and lack of human knowledge, but she thought that’s where their differences ended.

Not true.

Urogi had recently started bringing her… gifts. Sometimes, it was shiny things he’d found on his flights, and other times it was freshly killed animals and bags of gore. She tried not to think of where that came from.

Karaku had taken to purring at her to get her attention, which usually worked because she found it cute. This quickly turned into biting and growling when she didn’t respond quickly enough.

Sekido watched her. Constantly. At first this was reassuring. He’d follow her at night and make sure she was safe, and sometimes even carry her where she wanted to go. Recently he tried following her everywhere, this included to the bathroom and into her room when she was changing.

Aizetsu was the most tame, only wishing to be with her as much as possible. This only bothered her in the mornings when she couldn’t escape his iron grip to go pee.

She’d had about enough of this strange behavior, so she called all the boys to gather in her living room.

“Okay, why are you four acting so strange? Sorry to say but humans don’t like being followed, growled at, given bags with questionable contents, and being held for too long!”

She let out a huff and crossed her arms, her foot tapping away at the floor. The four exchanged looks, seeming confused.

“(Name), this is common demon courting etiquette”

She stopped, tilting her head. “Courting etiquette?”

“Yes, when a demon finds a suitable mate they court them with gifts, mark them, protect them, and spend time with them.”

(Name) nodded. “That makes sense. So how do I get y’all to stop your… courting?”

Sekido steps forward, offering her the ring. “All you have to do is accept our proposal.”

(Name) but her lip and weighed her options. On one hand, (Name) didn’t know if she was okay with the thought of marrying demons, but on the other hand… she’d grown to quite like the four over the past month. She didn’t know if she could go back to living alone, with no one to wake up beside her.

“I… I accept.”

The four let out a cheer, even Sekido seemed happier than usual. She was quickly surrounded, being kissed and nipped at from all angles.

“Now that you’ve accepted…”

Sekido reaches out a claw hand that traces down her side and lands at her hip. His eyes focus on her neck, and he leans down to inhale her scent.

“We can consummate this marriage.”

A/N: please leave a comment if you’d like a spicy~ part 2!

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heartsofminds · 6 months

Text

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.”

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have.

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him.

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing.

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be.

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?”

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.”

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used.

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.”

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan.

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving.

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options.

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more.

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time.

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt.

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is.

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman.

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop.

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him.

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.”

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs.

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed.

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that?

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy.

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once.

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.”

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go.

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason.

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans.

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.”

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.”

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.”

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her.

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him.

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.”

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year.

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry.

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl.

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort.

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.”

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.”

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks.

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures.

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be.

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid).

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox.

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms.

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?”

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears.

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair.

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs.

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?”

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick.

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?”

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween.

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.”

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated.

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is.

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest.

God, this girl is so dramatic.

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness.

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.”

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can.

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why.

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.”

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby.

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.”

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him.

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.”

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return.

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.”

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up.

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.”

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle.

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends.

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him.

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue.

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them.

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion.

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?”

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.”

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?”

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!”

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.”

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –”

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend.

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar.

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up.

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew.

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face.

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there.

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice.

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight.

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed.

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night.

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello.

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume.

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley.

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak.

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?”

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween.

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy.

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet.

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.”

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows.

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm.

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!”

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize.

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically.

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.”

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head.

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in.

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley.

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened.

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles.

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her.

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.”

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.”

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in.

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead.

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway.

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses.

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips.

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.”

“She’s what?”

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!”

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately.

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him.

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex.

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding.

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad.

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position.

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder.

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.”

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now?

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.”

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?”

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for.

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him.

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself.

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.”

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand.

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.”

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father.

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be.

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her.

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.”

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews.

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby?

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest.

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor.

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017).

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob.

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week).

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores.

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention.

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?”

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you.

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there.

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken.

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that.

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language.

Fuck. Why do I always do this?

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in.

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend.

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces.

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind.

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.”

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –”

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off.

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you?

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use.

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –”

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.”

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you?

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.”

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you?

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table.

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.”

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?”

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble.

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you.

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it.

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend.

Some things just aren’t meant to be.

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha.

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,” Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth.

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth.

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks.

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?”

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry.

“You what?”

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.”

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?”

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron.

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him.

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?”

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact.

“You did what?”

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.””

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say.

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.”

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it.

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all.

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person.

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain.

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago.

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how.

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.”

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you.

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queer-n-here · 1 month

Note

Making Poe/Sigma ride a dildo PLS.

Also you're a great writer

Hey, thanks! Hope you like this one, too.

Also, I fucking love Sigma. I fucking love him. Him and Tanizaki are the two characters that I simp so hard for I would do anything to have them.

Contents: Making Sigma ride a dildo cuz you had a wet dream about it

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, masturbation, sex toys, nipple play.

It had been on your mind for a while now. More accurately, ever since you'd had that dream about Sigma riding a dildo like a bitch in heat, eyes glued to yours and hands bracing against the floor.

You wondered now, stepping into your shared room at the Sky Casino with a bag in your hand, if Sigma would agree to your little request.

You found him sitting at his desk the way you always did. Him, hunched over numerous sheets of paper spread out so he could see all of them at once. You walked over to him, wrapping an arm around Sigma's shoulder and placing a kiss on his temple.

He barely even looked up, murmuring a, "Welcome back," half-heartedly. You didn't mind, ruffling his hair gently and putting down the bag in your hands on the bedside table to go freshen up. When you emerged from the shower, hair dripping water onto the fabric of your T-shirt, neither Sigma nor the bag had moved. You plopped down on the bed, grabbing your phone to pass time.

"Say, baby," You said casually, and Sigma hummed to show that he was listening. "I went down today for an emergency supply run."

'Down' meant back to the surface of earth.

"Mm-hmm," Sigma's eyes were still glued to his paperwork. "See anything interesting?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words. "Why, I did actually."

"Hmm," Was his only reply, attention stolen completely by his work.

You didn't mind; being in a relationship with someone with the personality of Sigma had that requirement of patience. His work could wrap him around him like deadly vines sometimes. Only when it started suffocating him could you step in, beating back its branches and freeing your boyfriend from them.

And Sigma himself had agreed to your suggestion that after 10 o'clock, he should forget work and just be your boyfriend. So you waited.

The very second the clock in your room struck ten, you threw your phone down and left the bed, going to stand over Sigma instead. You bent down, and picked Sigma up from his chair, making him yelp in surprise and latch onto your neck for balance.

"[Name], what-" He began, but you cut him off.

"It's ten," You jutted your head towards the clock.

Sigma glanced at it, sighed, and then wrapped his arms more firmly around your neck, his expression resigned. "Fine."

You grinned unapologetically, and carried him to the bed, setting him down on the soft mattress and laying down beside him on your side, an elbow propped up against the bed to support your head up with your hand.

"So," You said, looking down at Sigma with a mischievous combination of a smile and smirk plastered on your face. "Did you hear what I said earlier about going down for an emergency run?"

He racked his brains. "Oh, yeah, you said you saw something interesting. What was it?"

Your smile-smirk-combination turned into a full smirk, and you reached over to the bedside table to grab the bag you'd brought with you, depositing it on Sigma's chest carefully.

"Is it a present?" His face lit up, eyes shining as he scrambled to sit up to open the bag.

"Mn," You nodded, eyes glued to that expression of his. "Two, actually. One of them is for you, and the other one might be for me."

Sigma frowned. "But if you brought it for yourself then-"

"Just open it," You raised your head to kiss his lips gently. "Either way you're gonna use it."

He shrugged, "Okay," and reached into the bag. The first thing he pulled out was a small jewellery box made of oak wood, its surface shiny and well-polished. His face lit up again, throwing you an excited glance before opening it, making you smile at him fondly.

It was a silver bracelet, somehow sturdy and delicate at the same time, which was why it had reminded you of Sigma when you'd seen it in the glass case of a jewellery shop you'd been passing.

"It's beautiful," Sigma said, looking up at you with that ecstatic expression on his pretty face.

"You like it?" You asked, and he nodded earnestly. "That's good, then."

You sat up to place a soft kiss on his forehead, and he turned to hug you tightly.

"Thank you," He whispered against your chest as you stroked the back of his head. "I'll cherish it."

You smiled. It felt so good to be able to make him smile, it was surreal.

Sigma got up from the bed to carefully put the bracelet in a drawer, face all split from that wide smile on . He returned for the second gift, the one you had deliberately placed lower in the bag so he would see it later.

Sitting down next to you again, he took up the bag and reached into it for a second time. When he pulled his hand out, sitting on his hand, all innocent looking and perfectly stationary, was a bright purple dildo.

His eyes widened, and a heavy blush rose up to his cheeks. He dropped it back into the bag, turning to you accusingly as his face burned with shame.

You met his gaze with a calm one of yours, smirking. "How d'you like it?"

Ten minutes later, you received the answer to your question.

You had somehow managed to convince a very flustered Sigma into cooperating with your plans. Now, he was on the floor next to you, hole tight and pathetic around the dildo that you'd stuck to the floor.

You sat close to him, letting him clutch your shirt in his hands as he huffed and panted, eyes wet and shoulders shaking.

"I think you're ready to move now, right, baby?" You asked, supporting most of his weight as he leaned against you.

Sigma nodded, and slowly began moving. He raised his hips till only the tip of the dildo was in him, before engulfing the entire thing again. His thighs shook, and moans spilled from his pretty mouth as he began riding it. You let him bury his head into your chest, knowing full well the shame that made him red now would be gone soon.

Sigma began gaining a rhythm slowly, his hips speeding up as your hand reached for your own waistband. Supporting him with one hand, you used the other to pull your cock free from its retraints. You began stroking just as Sigma's moans grew louder, each thrust of the dildo against his gummy walls making him more breathless than before.

"Look at me, baby," You said, hands fast on your cock.

He did, fingers of both his hands clenching you so tight you wondered if he'd be able to tear your skin through the shirt. His eyes were leaking tears down either side of his red face, and his sweat-soaked and messy hair was sticking to his forehead. His eyes were wide, pupils all blown out and blurred up. You leaned down and kissed him, swallowing each of his moans as he bounced on the dildo.

You continued jerking off to the sight of your boyfriend riding that dildo, knowing full well it could have been your cock if you'd asked for that instead.

"Move faster, baby," You told him, and with tears streaming down his face, he did as he was told.

As Sigma bounced wildly, your eyes glued themselves to the point where the dildo plunged in and out of his already swollen hole. He bit his lips, throwing his head back and letting you lower your head to bite at his pale flesh and kiss his nipples. His shame, as you had predicted, had already vaporized into thin air, and he made eye contact with you as he rode the dildo, mouth open and spilling lewd sounds. You licked and bit and kissed and teased to your heart's content as Sigma's body moved beneath your lips.

Soon, his moans turned into cries, and his movements grew sloppily and wilder, arms wrapping around your neck desperately and pulling you closer. Your hand sped up around your cock, knowing from his mannerisms that Sigma was close to his orgasm.

"Let's finish together, hmm?" You said, and Sigma nodded, leaning up to catch your lips in a kiss.

You reached over with your free hand to stroke his length, making him gasp and try to pull away, but you held on firm. You stroked both cocks in rhythm till he was crying, burying his face into your chest and just sobbing, his orgasm strong and unavoidable as it washed over him.

Ropes of cum shot out of your cock as Sigma collapsed onto you, breathless and tired. You reached forwards to pull him up and away from the dildo and onto you, wrapping both your arms around his shaking frame.

You let him calm down and come down from his high, stroking his back and pressing kisses into his temple. Soon, he pulled away to look at you, tears dried on his cheeks.

"Was that good?" He asked.

You nodded, smiling. "So good, baby. Now that you've had practice, d'you wanna try the real thing?"

Sigma's eyes widened, and he flushed impossibly darker.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub sigma #sub character #sub character x you #sub sigma x you

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starryschoolgirl · 6 months

Text

Just A Man

| A Soldier's Song Installment |

Summary -> As the weeks leading up to Elvis' deployment to Europe begin to dwindle you and Elvis try to help your son understand what it will mean. Meanwhile, inevitable tensions between you and Elvis are pushed to the side as the two of you figure sex is better than facing your issues, especially with such little time left together.

Warnings -> mention of family death, domestic fluff, flirting, mention of war, pre-deployment, Elvis being a young dad & husband, (much needed) sex with 50s Elvis, angsty undertones, smut, kitchen sex, swearing, foot kink, stocking kink, almost footjob(?), breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), unsafe sex

WC -> 5.8k

A/N -> So this is more of a prologue to the actual events of which this au series is based upon, to sort of give a glance into what life was like before Elvis gets deployed to Europe, I hope you enjoy it! In the next installment, we WILL see Elvis in uniform. This is an installation of the A Soldier's Song AU

“That one made my hand hurt Frankie!”

The little boy giggled at his daddy’s shocked face.

That battering of a baseball against a leather mitt is all that kept you company on the back porch of your home. Watching the two boys, your two boys, in the yard tossing the ball back and forth puts a smile on your face, but as you turn your head to the empty chair next to you that smile falls ever so slightly, missing the warmth that often emanated from that chair.

Elvis had been at basic training when she passed and was only able to make it back in time for her funeral, but even then while you were a wreck he remained as strong as he could. He held you in one arm and held your little boy in the other as the service proceeded.

You’d only had two grief-filled days with him before he went back to finish his basic training, you couldn’t even figure out whether or not he’d really come to terms with his mama because it all happened so fast. And now you’d only have a few final weeks with your man, all crisp and in shape from basic training, till he was off to a poor war-stricken country in Europe.

With that in mind you remembered to smile, in the knick of time too as Elvis looked up at you after running to pick up the stray ball that had rolled along the grass toward the porch due to your little boy’s poor aim.

He stared up at you like the school boy he used to be, and said with that tone of voice you’d often heard since he first laid eyes on you, “Hey there Cutie”

And like the school girl you used to be, you’d blush and only offer a small smile as you waved him off, “Go play with your son”

Elvis gave you that look, he wanted to say something he couldn’t say in front of young ears. He got up, ball in one hand while he wore his leather brown mitt on the other, with each step up the wood porch his smile grew, you could feel his curled lips on your cheek as he leaned down to kiss it.

Then quietly he’d murmur in a cooing, baby-talk type tone,

“Daddy wants to play with Mama though”

You rolled your eyes and put a placating hand on his clean-shaven cheek. After leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips you spoke quietly with that same baby-talk curve to your voice,

“Daddy can play with Mama when Baby goes to bed”

Elvis smiled softly at you and mumbled out a soft and assured, “Alright”, before stepping away to go back down onto the grass, giving Francis, or as Elvis nicknamed him, Frankie, an underhanded toss of the ball.

You turned one last time to the other chair and the empty cushion on it, you couldn’t look at it anymore. Thankfully you were needed elsewhere as you could smell the roast in the oven drift through the window of the kitchen out onto the porch.

After going inside as you tended to the food you could watch Francis and Elvis play about in the yard, it was quite big, but the two of them only remained within a small portion, part of the reason could’ve been because Francis couldn’t yet throw very far.

The sun was setting and the light practically flickered off of Elvis’ hair. Now being in the army he didn’t bother with that black dye, it would just be washed out as soon as he was back at base after all. And it wasn’t like he’d be making movies or releasing songs anytime soon, no not with what he was on his way to do in a few weeks.

You could just barely hear Elvis’ voice as he praised your son, “Frank my boy you might be the Babe Ruth of your generation if ya keep at it”. You couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile, Elvis talking to Francis as if the four-year-old knew who the Babe was and as if he knew what the word “generation” meant.

It was in Elvis’ nature to talk to children in that way though. He always treated them like little adults. You couldn’t recall a time when Elvis didn’t speak to children that way. His mama had made fun of him for it when Francis was two and he could only remark, “Frank is just people, like you and me are just people”

Oh goodness, you thought of her again.

You don’t think a day goes by when you don’t think about her. Elvis’ mama was a godsend, truly. And while he’d never open up about it, you know it’s affecting Elvis immensely. She was so involved in your life ever since you entered Elvis’ and she was always sweet and welcoming.

You could think back to a time not too long ago when after you’d eloped with Elvis and announced the news of your pregnancy at the young age of 18, your parents kicked you to the curb, but she welcomed you with open arms.

At the time Elvis was still driving a truck he hadn’t yet become the “movie star” that he was now. But despite the financial struggles of her Presley flock, Gladys happily welcomed another bird.

It was just a few months ago, before the whole fiasco of Elvis getting drafted and sent off to basic that you’d had a conversation with her in this very kitchen about that.

You told her how appreciative you’d always be toward her for being so welcoming to you, and she told you with an arm around your shoulder, “I’m a mother Hon, it’s only natural. The two of you were babies when ya had that itty bitty boy of yours, I couldn’t ever leave y’all out in the rain, you know that”

You knew no matter what Elvis would have stuck beside you, you knew he’d always be there to hold your hand. After all, you were mothering his child. But it helped so much more that his mother would be on the other side of you, holding your other hand to help you in whatever way you would allow.

Things were slowly returning to normal within the home, her lack of presence isn’t as pronounced, but that’s because she lives through memory now as more time passes, it’s almost like she’s not gone.

You hope that’s how Elvis viewed it. His stone face didn’t leave any slack for a crack or two, and for once it was getting hard to read him. But you’d continue to hope that it isn’t a facade and that he is okay. Yeah, you’d hope with all your might that your man was doing okay.

-----

Dinner was quiet, whenever your voice, or Elvis’ voice, or Francis’ voice didn’t fill the air, love would keep you all company. Of course as always Elvis got on Francis about playing with his food, having grown up poor Elvis was more sensitive to matters of waste such as that.

But if that was the stress high-point of the evening, then you could call it a good evening.

And as you now sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on Francis’ blanket-covered knee while Elvis kneeled on the floor next to the short, small children’s bed, you had a soft smile play on your lips as Elvis talked on the subject of him leaving in a few weeks.

Elvis and you had been explaining night after night to Francis what would soon happen, why his daddy would be going away for a while and what would happen after. After talking about it quite a bit within the first month of knowing about Elvis’ draft you and he decided it was best to be very open on the subject to make it less daunting when Elvis suddenly left home.

And after Gladys’ death you had to explain to Francis that his daddy’s absence would be different from his grandmother’s absence.

“Ya g-gonna fight bad guys Daddy?”

Elvis smiled and brought his hands up in fists, then with a few shadow-box moves which made Francis laugh, Elvis assured,

“You betcha, gonna give the bad guys one of these! And one of these!”

The little boy laughed, his laugh too big for his body as he bent over on the bed and held onto your arm with both his little hands.

After his precious giggles subsided, Francis sat up and asked curiously, a glimmer of what must’ve been a child’s worry in his eyes as he asked with that stutter that his daddy used to have,

“W-what if the bad, bad guys hurt yo-you Dad-Daddy?”

Your smile fell slightly as you and Elvis made eye contact at the suggestion. Of course that is something that you and Elvis had been careful approaching when it came to explaining this sort of thing to Francis.

You couldn’t explain it without truly worrying the boy, you felt tears prickle your eyes at just the thought. Elvis knew of your worries, he knew that quite a few of the girls you were friends with down at the beauty parlor had husband’s overseas, and that a few of them had gotten the dreaded telegram, along with a folded American flag.

He knew all too well your worries as he’d spent many nights being the one to soothe you back to bed. When he’d feign sleep even though he knew you’d spend mornings staring at him, just wanting to look at him as if you would soon lose this view.

Of course if he had died at war it might be different. Having been in a few films and sung a few hit records, he feared that if he died you might find out about his death through the newspapers. You would either find out through that, or as Elvis heard, on rare special occasions they’d send something much more personal, they’d send chaplains and military officers to tell the grieving widow in person.

Elvis hoped if he died he’d be that special occasion, that way you wouldn’t be alone when you heard about his death, the same way you were alone when you saw his mother in her state of death.

“Well,”

He started before getting up, and sitting next to you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reached a hand out to rest atop yours which rested on Francis’ knee.

“Listen buddy, that sort of thing might happen, but ya don’t gotta worry. Your daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna get home to you and Mama. He promises.”

Your lip quivered as you tried to smile. Elvis could feel the way your hand tensed under his, he quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and mumbled quietly for his little family to hear,

“And ya know I’m not a liar, I wouldn’t piss on ya leg and tell ya it’s rainin’ now would I?”

You abruptly turned your head toward Elvis’ crude analogy and hit his shoulder lightly making him laugh as Francis giggled at his daddy using a “nasty” word.

As Elvis laughed he stood up and pulled you with him, leaving enough time for you to kiss Francis goodnight before taking you with just a tug of his arm around your hip.

As you reached for the lamp next to your son’s bed your spoke softly,

“Get a good sleep Frannie”

Once you and Elvis were making your way out of the room he teased you softly with his hand still resting at your hip, “Wish ya would stop callin’ him such a girly name, his name’s Francis”

As soon as you closed the door you laughed softly and pointed out, “So he’s Francis when I call him Frannie but he’s not Francis when you call him Frankie?”

Elvis shrugged and popped out a “yup” as he guided you down the hall. Just before reaching the bedroom you told him you remembered you still had some dishes to do and made a B-line to the staircase to head toward the kitchen.

After getting down there and getting the dishes loaded you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring down at the soapy dishwater with not a thought in mind.

It was Elvis’ voice that pulled you from your trance as he spoke, “Baby?”

You jumped slightly and turned around to see Elvis throwing you a confused half-smile, his red shirt from earlier was off and he was left in just black trousers and his wedding ring. There was a dampened towel on his shoulders, the tips of his hair were slightly wet, likely from having just washed his face.

You sighed softly with a smile at the sight, “I’ll be up in a minute Handsome, just getting some things done”.

Elvis’ neck stretched slightly as he saw the dishes were washed and now laid on the drying rack, he then turned toward the stove to see that the leftovers were put away. You didn’t have anything to do.

He took a few steps forward, till he could comfortably rest his hands at your hips.

“Looks to me like everythin’s been done, why don’tcha head upstairs with me?”

You took a moment to look around and realized he was right, quick on your feet you slid away from his hands and walked over to the oven and opened it, you gestured a hand toward the inside,

“I haven’t cleaned the oven out yet”

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook head and mumbled with a hand on his hip,

“Honey, ya never clean the oven out till the 1st of the month, I mean unless things have changed that much since I’ve been at basic…”

You sighed softly. As you gently closed the oven door Elvis walked over to you with a small frown, his hands finding their place at your hips once again as he asked,

“What’s goin’ on Genevieve?”

You bit your lower lip softly, whenever Elvis called you by your name you knew he was serious, there was no wiggling your way out of it, especially now that he had you pressed back against a kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips with resolution and a look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting you go without a fight.

With a shake of your head you looked away from Elvis, suddenly deeming the drying rack a few feet away to be a better view than your half-naked husband. Elvis’ head followed your gaze and suddenly it was him you were looking at again.

“I just, I wish you would stop doing that…”

Elvis looked confused as he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He really looked different from a few months ago, his jaw was sharp and his cheeks sort of caved in, but not in the way a waif’s would. His hair was a crisp, fall-ish brown, and his body was cut in a way that felt a little foreign.

While he was naturally slim and tall, he was usually still soft and smooth around the edges. You’d realized his first night back from basic that his body was more sharp and angular, and you worried they weren’t feeding him properly. But as he’d been home a week or two now, his body remained sharp and cut, and now your worries were on your own lacking areas, you knew your food couldn’t replace his mama’s but you’d swear if his mama were here, he’d be back to his soft and squishy self.

“Stop doin’ what Hon?”

As your eyes lingered over his body more you’d completely forgotten what you’d first been talking about as you changed the subject by asking, “Are you still hungry?”

Elvis laughed softly and titled his head to the side, “What are ya talkin’ about?”

Your lower lip quivered in worry and concern, it seems all the dulled emotions you’d been feeling lately came together to overpower your own emotional maturity as your lip wobbled pathetically. As Elvis saw the sight his smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bent down slightly to look you head on. “Oh, Baby, now,” He cupped your cheeks with his hands to keep you from turning away from him.

There was a soft incredulous laugh that left his lips, “Why are ya cryin?”

As Elvis pulled you close to him, you could feel his body shake with each laugh that left his lips, you knew what he was thinking, it was what he always thought (and sometimes said) whenever you started crying, it was-

“You women and your emotions…”

And just as you would everytime, you’d hit his chest with all your might (which would only evoke another laugh at your pitiful effort) and mumble into his chest wetly, “Stop laughing at me Elvis Aaron Presley.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore Mama, now what was it you wish I would stop doin?”

Your arms around his waist tightened slightly as you thought back to the original topic of discussion. Elvis gave you a moment as he rubbed his chin along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in doing so, but you didn’t care enough to mind.

“I just wish you would stop pretending you’re this indestructible force Elvis.”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke,

“Well, I gotta make sure my son knows there ain’t a man better than his Daddy, ya know that Hon”

With a soft sigh you pulled back enough to look Elvis in the eye while your arms remained around his waist.

“I’m talking about with me, Elvis. You do that same thing with me that you do with Francis. You talk to me like I’m a child- Like, like I don’t know what you’re going into, like I haven’t been reading the papers”

Elvis’ smile flatlined as he listened to your words. You continued on.

“I’m your wife Elvis, I know that you’re not some indestructible being.”

As Elvis' eyes lingered away from yours, you placed a hand on his cheek to regain his attention as you could tell he was searching for ways to change the conversation.

“You’re just a man Elvis”

There’s his way out. Elvis bit his lower lip before breaking into a smile as he stared down at you. His hands that were wrapped around your waist fell down to each globe of your ass, giving you a soft squeeze through the fabric of your dress. The abruptness of the action caught your attention as your eyebrow lifted in suspicion and confusion at what he was doing.

Here you were pouring your heart out and he-

“Well, I can admit I am just a man, and a man’s got needs ya know?”

He had a boyish smile on his lips as he said the last part quietly, as if he were a child trying to tempt his mother into letting him get his favorite piece of candy. You knew how this would go, it would go as it always did. You and Elvis would avoid this topic and go on to avoid a few other topics, then in a few weeks or a month you and him would get into a huge argument of all the topics combined just to kiss and make up.

It’s happened often within your relationship, hell, you and him hadn’t fought the entirety of your pregnancy with Francis and on the day your water broke, all hell broke with it as you and Elvis got into a huge argument. You almost gave birth in the house because you refused to have him be the one to drive you to the hospital.

But that would be fine for now, especially when he smiled down at you the way he was now.

Your previous pure look of concern had washed away with a defeated smile as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass like dough and his smile only dug into his cheeks further, almost bringing back that full look of them.

With a fond tinge to it, you sighed out,

“You really are just a man”

He brought his nose down to nuzzle against your cheek before pressing his lips against the soft skin, murmuring, “Your man”

“Mhm, my man”

You began to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips dragging from your cheek down along the sensitive skin of your neck. You tried tucking your chin into your neck as you continued to let you squealed laughs.

Elvis let out a soft playful growl as he spoke into the skin,

“Flutterin’ around like a bird”

To stop your incessant wiggling Elvis tightened his arms around your waist, his nose changed locations from the crook of your neck to the dip of your collarbone till it landed in the deep neckline of your dress, snug between your breasts as he nuzzled himself into the skin, trying to get a whiff of you in your purest form.

The smell of you at the end of the day, the light scent of your perfume that somehow lingered late in the day mixed with whatever sweat had tried to grace your body, it was a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

His lips began to press gentle little kisses at the inside of both your breasts as he tugged at the neckline a bit more, trying to give himself more ground to cover with his lips. You laughed softly and buried your hands in his brown locks as you pressed numerous kisses atop his head.

You could hear him mumble where his head was buried between your breasts,

“Mm kiss me Baby…”

You laughed softly and between pecks on his forehead said, “That’s what I’m doin’”

He finally came up, his eyes lidded slightly as he murmured, “I mean really kiss me”, before kissing you with the same lips he just worshiped the skin of your tits with.

You hummed into the kiss with delighted surprise at the hungry tenderness of it all as Elvis’ body backed you completely against the kitchen counter. He felt around blindly for the counter behind you as he refused to break the kiss and then with two gentle pats to the back of your thighs you jumped up just slightly for him to pick you up by the thighs and push you onto the counter.

Elvis’ hands quickly worked the fabric of your dress, tugging it up till it pooled around your waist and as he pulled away from the kiss to look down between the two of you he was left with the sight of your legs, almost completely bare except for your seamed stockings that ended at your thighs and were held up by the garters connected to your panties.

His hands glided along the thin fabric of your stockings along your calves and thighs, he loved how they felt. You couldn’t help your smile as he admired you. When he stepped back he could pull one of your legs up nice and high so that he could see the seams on the back of your stockings that ran up your legs, giving the illusion that you had much longer legs than you really did.

All his focus was on that leg that he had stretched above your head, pointed to the heavens as he stared with admiration. You, his own point of interest, had betrayed him as your other lonely leg that dangled from the counter stretched forward to dig lightly at the bulge beginning to form in Elvis’ black trousers. Elvis’ brows creased and his eyes closed as his mouth opened to let out a low, heavy breath.

“Oh, Mama…”

Elvis’ grip that held your foot high had loosened at the undoing of his usually calm and collective nature within the act. “Mhm?” You took the opportunity and brought your other foot down to join in on the pushes and presses of your feet into the growing bulge.

He only repeated with a breathy, more defeated voice,

“Oh… Mama…”

His head fell back slightly and his legs looked to be going a little slack, knees bending in the slightest as his hips pushed into the pressure of your feet.

It was only when you attempted to dig your foot’s heel into Elvis’ groin did he make a move, spreading your legs apart and pushing his way between them with an eagerness. His hands were quick as he unclipped your garters, followed by the rough yanking of your stockings off your legs. You were thankful you had stabilized yourself onto the counter with your hands otherwise he might’ve yanked you off it right along with your stockings.

You figured you’d help him as you lifted your ass up and began to shimmy your panties off, having to bite your lip to keep back from whining at the cold slap of the counter against your thighs and warmed heat. As Elvis turned to look at you, his mouth was left slightly agape, he could never get used to the image of his wife being all pliant and pretty for him.

The men he used to work with as a young truck driver told him to never get married to a girl he liked, because when women became wives they lost their appeal, they became prudent and too good for casual sex with their husband. Oh how wrong those men were.

“Spread ‘em f’me Hon”

You obeyed as you watched Elvis kneel down, he had enough height on him to where even kneeling down he could easily be face to face with your bare cunt as you sat on the edge of the counter.

From below he made eye contact with you again and murmured,

“Spread those as well Baby”

You let out a breath at his words, feeling a heat spread from your chest up your neck from the embarrassment of where he was referring, but you’d listen. Your hand hesitantly danced down your body before landing at your cunt, and with a soft, wet sound, your pointer and index finger spread the lips of your pussy apart, giving way for Elvis to see the white discharge that was just edging out of your entrance, you had practically sprung a leak down there.

“You’re so pretty Baby…”

He looked up at you to make sure you knew it before steadying himself by gripping the sides of your thighs before pressing his head further between your legs. His aquiline nose ran along your core before anything else, but his tongue and lips were quick to follow as he licked a stripe up the center.

You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling and tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, the blank ceiling, boring enough for you to be able to focus entirely on the sensations Elvis was filling your body with.

As his tongue poked and prodded at your entrance you let out a cacophony of back-to-back breaths. As he moved his lips lower, his tongue now scraping along that gap of skin between both your holes, his nose was enveloped entirely by your entrance, and you could feel it inside of you.

Then his fingers on one hand reached toward that little nub of nerves that rested atop your pussy like a pretty bow, and like an expert he could easily undo that bow with the twists and turns of his index and middle finger.

That is what made you squirm and squeak, hushing out a high-pitched,

“Elvis..!”

His answer was a hungry hum which only pushed you even further as the low baritone of his hum reverberated in your pussy. “E-Elvis..!”

Your hands burrowed greedily into his hair as you contradicted yourself, while you made it seem like you wanted him off you, you only pushed his nose further and further into your entrance, you might suffocate him at this point. It was as if his life was in the hands of whether or not he could make you come.

You attempted to drive your hips further into his mouth as he pulled you closer with that hand still gripping your thigh.

As his fingers strummed your clit like the strings to a guitar your breathing got uneven as you felt the incoming of those waves of pleasure that only your very own husband could pull from you.

He groaned loudly into your heat as your grip on his hair became painful to the man bearing it, but he’d continue on till he got you to your release.

“Oh fuck Elvis..! I’m, I’m…”

Your hands entangled in his hair began to drive his head completely home as you let out a guttural moan, the pleased pitch cutting off as you’d reached the peak of your pleasure.

Your entire body felt limp, not even having enough strength in your hands to continue holding onto his hair. Elvis’ head remained tucked away long enough for your dress to fall over onto his head and hide him away as he finally pulled away for air.

You watched with tired eyes as his hands came up to pull the fabric off his head, he had the biggest lazy smile gracing his lips as he looked up at you, and for a moment you had a hard time deciphering whether or not the dampness on his face came from his sweat or your own pleasure, you settled on it being a mix.

“I make ya feel good Honey? Played with Mama just right, hm?”

He slowly stood up and brought the fabric of the dress up with him.

“You always do Elvis,”

He hummed with a smile and brought the wrung up fabric to your mouth with one hand and tugged your chin down with the other, leaving room for him to set the fabric between your lips for you to bite down on.

“Good, now, you’re gonna help Daddy feel good too now right? Gonna sit still f’me right?”

You hummed, “Mhm”, feeling eager to please the man after the trip he just sent you on. Elvis smiled down at you as he watched you hold the fabric between your teeth.

The fumbling of Elvis’ hands undoing his trousers was momentary as he’d become a bit of an expert at undoing his pants in the years you two have been married. You watched with blown out eyes as his dick shot up against his pubes and stomach as it was freed from the confines of Elvis’ pants and underwear.

Your legs were already spread and ready, your hole was already warmed up and loosened, you were his for the taking.

As Elvis took a step forward he tugged you just slightly closer to him before lining his uncut cock along your hole. Then he pushed in. His eyebrows creased from the pain of needing to be patient at this part, trying to find a good balance of needing to be watchful of your expression while wanting to watch as his foreskin begins to prematurely slide back before he’s even completely inside of your warm pussy.

“It’s goin’ in smooth Honey? N-no burn or anythin’ right Baby? I can keep goin’?”

You hummed out a quick, “Mhm”, with an eager nod of your head, and you could see the relief spread along his face at not needing to wait, because to be quite truthful he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

Elvis kept a hand on his base as he guided the rest in and when he was fully in, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, practically pulling you off the counter as he wanted to be as close to you as possible while he pressed kisses along your neck.

“Fuck Baby, feel so good,” He groaned softly as he pulled out slightly just to shove his way back in, eliciting a used squeak from you as he did so. “Think that I still haven’t broken ya in properly after bein’ at basic f’so long huh?”

You could only moan softly at his words as you kept the fabric of your dress clenched between your teeth. As he repeated a similar motion he mumbled into the skin of your neck,

“It’s alright Honey, we’ll make more room in there, make more room for a little one or two…”

You wiggled slightly only for his body to press impossibly closer as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just need ya to sit” he pulled out just to harshly press back in, evoking a whimper from you, “still.”

Elvis’ thrusts became fuller and more drawn out with every second that passed and every moan that left your lips. He was a chatty lover, and while he liked to believe he was talking you through it all, it was really himself he was talking through the motions of sex. He had a strange anxiety when it came to sex that had only shown itself since his takeoff in the entertainment business.

“Gonna fill ya so full of me, gonna leave a piece of myself here to watch over ya Honey,”

Your noises continued to be muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked in saliva from being kept in your mouth for so long.

The build-up of precum that had been filling your insides made for a wonderful lubricant, even better than your body’s natural one. Elvis’ hips continued to thrust roughly into you. As the speed doubled, even tripled, Elvis’ breaths and voice got raspy.

You were certain he’d bruised your cervix by now, but the desperate rasp of his voice left you as gooey as your insides were.

“Shit, this is it..!”

Elvis buried face into your neck and you felt the heat of his breath sprawl across your skin as he groaned throatily. The animalistic, rhythmic pace of his hips dying down to slow downward grinds. He slurred out as he came down from that peak of pleasure,

“So good… So fucking good…”

Finally as his body came to a rest you spit out the fabric and inhaled as much air as possible through your mouth.

As Elvis geared himself to pull out, your arms wrapped around his neck abruptly as you held him close, mumbling a soft, “Don’t.” as you did so.

Elvis’ body felt stiff for a moment as he asked with hushed concern,

“W-why? Did I hurt ya Hon? You know you’re supposed to tell-”

You stopped his sentence short with a quiet,

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Just, wanna be with you a little longer. You don’t mind do ya?”

Elvis let out a breath of relief to hear that. He’d never want to hurt you. So in that moment of silence he held you close and buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose linger on that pulse point that he watched you apply perfume on every morning for the past 4 years.

And you carded your fingers through his hair, kissing the skin of his head as a form of apology for how rough you were with it earlier.

His voice was like honey, sweet and thick as he assured,

“Of course not. I wanna be with you all the time, otherwise I wouldn't have married ya”

You smiled and remarked into his hair,

"Smartass..."

To which he fondly mumbled,

"Cutie"

This was more a passion piece, just because I really wanted to write something involving those pictures, seriously he's such a dad.

The masterlist will be posted and linked as soon as I get up from my nap! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!!

Taglist Lovelies: @suraemoon, @drtyelvisfantasy, @mydarlingelvis, @astral-eyed-cat, @lialocklear, @obsessedvibee, @sexystarfish, @everythingelvispresley, @thebardotreincarnate, @prettyprissyblvd

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arabellasleopardcoat · 7 months

Text

A Thousand Words (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You want to marry him. He wants to fuck you. The two things are not as incompatible as they sound.

Requested: Yes! Predator/Prey with Daemon.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal unprotected sex. Animalistic sex? Sadistic Daemon. Toxic relationship. Mentions of breeding kink. PWP with baby plot.

You leaned down, examining a few bergamot flowers more closely. Asking for permission in a low voice, you cut three of them. They would be enough to soothe the children’s bee stings.

As you placed them in your basket, you heard a twig snap, followed by leaves crunching. You straightened up immediately, flowers forgotten by your feet. Your eyes glanced towards the tree line. There were no animals near you, apart from a few birds. Yet, the noise had been loud. As if the twig had snapped from something heavy stepping on it.

You knew these forests like the palm of your hand. You had grown up here, after all. There were no animals heavy enough to make such a noise around this area.

“Is someone there?” You asked, feeling a bit silly for doing so. Other than the chirping of birds and the soft murmur of a river near, you heard nothing. But if there was someone there with ill intent, they weren’t about to announce themselves.

Keeping your movements very slow, you picked up your basket and kept picking flowers. Despite always enjoying long treks in these woods, you were unable to concentrate on the beauty surrounding you. Uneasiness pooled in your stomach, all the hairs on your body standing up to attention. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every few steps, you looked over your shoulder, but there was nothing there.

This outing was meant to be meditative for you, and you were clearly not reaching that goal. The pressure of being the Lady of your household sometimes got to you. When you were a woman, it was as if you had to do twice as much to prove yourself worthy. Nature had always been a respite for you, yet today, peace seemed to evade you. You felt too anxious, too nervous, to be able to tune in with yourself. The ambience had been ruined by the sound, triggering all your paranoia.

You decided to head back towards the castle. Since you were still uneasy, you decided to take a few confusing laps, just in case you were being followed. You walked towards the darker part of the forest, where the trees were older and taller, their branches overlapping and obscuring the view of the sky. To anyone who was unfamiliar with the place, the twists and turns you were taking would throw them off.

Unfortunately for you, whoever was after you was not unfamiliar with the place. Now that you were in the more isolated part of the forest, you could hear footsteps after you, even with your pulse beating loudly in your ears. With a muttered curse at your own idiocy, you hiked up your skirts and started to run.

It went badly. You tripped over a root, going down hard. The skin of your palms lifted, slowly starting to bleed. And someone pounced on you from behind. Hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a solid chest.

“Have I startled you so much you forgot your way in your own lands?” You recognized the voice just as you were about to shriek. Daemon Targaryen and you didn’t have much in common. In fact, you were total opposites. While he preferred the noise of the city, you enjoyed the calm of the woods. He liked dornish red, while you much favored arbor gold. He liked bedding a new woman every night, you liked compromise. And, of course, how could you forget? Daemon liked chasing, and you liked running.

“My Prince!” You tried to sound scandalized. This game of yours was one of your favorites to play, and you guessed this was why the Rogue Prince kept coming back to you. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase too much to not give in to it. “You aren’t meant to be here.”

“I can’t stay away from you. You know that.”

“You should.” You frown at him, playing your part. Despite it, you cannot help the teasing tone that your words take next. “It’s not proper, for a Lady and a Prince to be alone together, so far from other people.”

Daemon doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls you more into his body, your back flush to his chest. He starts to press lavish kisses to your nape and shoulders. You nearly moan. Nearly. Because you have a part to play.

“Don’t. No. We could get caught.” You mutter, urgently trying to get him off you. So far, getting him into your bed had proven a piece of cake. Getting him to come back to it, slightly harder. Getting him to offer you marriage, damn near impossible.

In the eyes of others, you were nothing more than friends. Not even courting, despite his constants visits to your household. It certainly got tongues rolling among the realm, but there was nothing official yet.

“Come on. Just let me have you.” Daemon bites down on your shoulder, softly. “You know you want to.”

“Out in a forest?” You laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous if we both want it.” He pushes your dress slightly lower, tracing nonsensical patterns on your back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, with how much you like the outdoors.”

“No.” You are lying through your teeth, and he knows it. Knows you. But it’s such a sweet game, that the two of you play. For you, it’s the high of getting to scream and bite and be as wild as you wish to, away from the stiffness of your everyday life. For him, you guess it is part of being a conqueror and getting to rough you up a little.

You are at a stalemate. You will never admit it to him, how much you enjoy this. Not only are you too proud, but you feel slightly embarrassed by it. There is a certain pride in being different, in not conforming to the role society has decided was yours to fill. Fate bends to your will, after all. You are someone who makes things happen, not someone that has things happen to her. Be it your own marriage plans, to commanding your household with an iron fist. Yet, you crave being made to feel helpless.

Daemon is not about to budge, either. When he thinks he is right about something, he is right about it and there is no room for arguing. His grip on your waist gets more restrictive. You stay like that, kneeling on the floor as he sits patiently behind you.

“What about a… Friendly wager?” Daemon kisses your earlobe as he speaks, softly. “If you win, you can leave. I won't bother you again.”

“And if you win?” You know already that Daemon is going to win. Not only is he competitive, but you don’t want him to leave you alone. Like, ever. You would marry him in a heartbeat, were he to ask. So if it is necessary, you will lose on purpose. It’s not the first time the two of you played like this. You have gotten talented at it. The key is in not making it too obvious, less you anger him. The male ego is such a fragile thing, and Daemon needs to be handled with care. He is as proud as you are.

“I get to take you. Here. As you are, in this forest.” He whispers, as he leaves behind soft, wet bites over your shoulders. Already, your blood is warming. You feel hot all over. Were it not madness, you would slip out of your cloak and dress and try to cool down.

You ponder on it for a few seconds, distracted by the feel of his mouth and the way his skilled fingers pull down your bodice. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, in fact. But it does sound tantalizing. To be run down by Daemon, held down and fucked as if the two of you were nothing more than animals in heat is… Well, it’s certainly something. You don’t know if it’s the moon, or the way he seems to have a talent for convincing you of bad ideas, but you cannot help the way your cunt pulses when you think of it.

“Fine.” You say, in an annoyed tone. As if you are not as aroused as he is by the idea. “What do I have to do?”

Daemon’s breath hitches. You can hear it and feel it, pressed this close to him. He takes the tiniest intake of air, chest moving softly against your back, before stuttering a little.

Surprised. You know even without looking at him. Out of all the games the two of you play, this one has to be the one that has taken it further. It’s risky, and he probably offered it on a whim, knowing the odds were not in his favor. But you said yes. And that changes everything.

“Try to get out of the forest before I catch you.” His voice sounds dazed. It’s clear Daemon is still in disbelief. Yet, he is clearly eager to play because you can feel his hardness pressing into your lower back.

“I assume I will get a head start.” You tilted your head back and gave him a cheeky smile. The sort of smile that drove him mad. Daemon gave you a rare, soft smile, before kissing you. It was warm and demanding, forcing you to open up to him. When you parted, you were the one feeling nearly drunk on sensation. He was back in control.

“I’m feeling generous, so I will count to twenty before giving chase.” Daemon spoke, but the words didn’t really register in your mind. You blinked at him, slowly. Your brain had been turned into mush thanks to the amazing kiss. He smirked and spanked your arse. “Starting now. One.”

Jolted out of your trance, you stood abruptly. Your clock was running and you wanted so badly to complain you were not ready, but there was simply no time. Beside you, Daemon kept counting.

“Three… Four… Five…” Bewildered at the injustice of it all, you scowled. But Daemon's face remained smug, and so you had no choice. You stood up, wiping your palms on your dress, and ran off as fast as you could. You got a bit tangled in your skirts and had to stop to hike them up properly.

“Seven… Eight… Nine…” It was pronounced with a hint of laughter. Almost halfway. You wanted to scream, but you knew Daemon. He never played fair. Instead, you chose to duck behind some trees, so hopefully he would lose your trail.

You kept running, until you no longer heard his voice. The only noise you could hear now were your own agitated breaths and the soft sounds of the forest. If you were to make it out, you still had a long way to go.

Since you didn’t really want to make it out, and you were getting more agitated the more you ran, you stopped. Deciding to remain still until you heard his footsteps again, you sat down on the grass. But soon, you could hear the tell-tale sound branches make when being pulled apart, twigs and leaves crunching under a pair of boots.

It was not as long as you thought it would be, and so, you startled a little. There was a bit of panic gripping you, as well as excitement. You were pretty sure he would tackle you into the ground when he saw you, and you were not anticipating that pain. That this was happening made you feel small in all the right ways. As if you were no more than something to be conquered, to be caught, by a much bigger predator.

Crouching, you sprung out, your movements louder than you would have liked. You thought you had more time. This was not going how you expected it to go, not at all. You had barely calmed your breathing down when you were running again.

“Come here!” You heard him scream, and you resisted the urge to look over your shoulder and watch just how close he was. You sprinted, pushing your body harder. But your body was already tired from your earlier run, when you thought someone was following you. You were slower than usual.

“Come on. Give in.” Daemon’s voice sounded too close. He was not running after you, from what you could hear. Merely walking. Circling you, closer and closer, until he was ready to pounce on his prey.

The thought made you embarrassingly wet. Your thighs clenched, trying to get some friction on your cunt, but with how you were moving, it was nearly impossible.

“You boast a lot, my Prince. But I don’t see you doing anything.” You answer, cheekily. This time, you do turn around and look at him. His eyes are dark with hunger. It makes you feel small and powerless.

You remind yourself this is why Prince Daemon likes you so much. He loves how submissive you can be, how willing to play his game. You let your face show everything you are feeling, face contorted between arousal and fear, eyes darting restlessly searching for a way out.

Daemon walks calmly towards you. Instead of running, you remain rooted in place. It seems fear has frozen you. You let your skirts fall back down around your ankles, dropping all pretense to keep running.

He takes his time, circling you like a hound would do with a bunny. Waiting for the right time to sink his teeth and tear apart, until you are no more than exposed tendons and flesh.

“Now, now. Don’t look so fearful.” Daemon brushes your hair behind your ears. The touch is tender, a contrast to the sadistic glee shining in his eyes. It's clear the chase has been as exciting for him as it was for you. “I am a gracious winner. I won’t hurt you. Too much.” And with a dark grin, he is pulling your cloak open, tearing at the bodice of your dress, pushing you down. It all happens in a flurry of movement, too fast to follow where his hands are, too brutal to realize when it is that you end up on your knees.

Without needing to be told to, you go to your hands and knees. Daemon chuckles, pulling your skirts up and your undergarments out of the way.

“This was what you needed, wasn’t it?” You can feel his hand making its way between your thighs, checking your wetness. Your face heats up in shame when you hear the loud squelching noise his finger makes when entering you. Never have you been so aroused from looks and words alone. And Daemon can definitely tell.

You fix your eyes on the grass beneath you. You can hear how Daemon unbuckles his belt and shrugs off his pants. Then, you feel his weight on top of you, as he goes on his hands and knees too. His legs bracket yours as he forces you to lower your chest, pushing your face into the earth.

More shame and arousal twist on your belly. This is not how a lady should be treated, taken on her hands and knees, teats out and hanging out of her dress on a forest floor. Daemon is about to fuck you as if you were a common whore, and you can't help the gush of wetness that floods your center when you think of it.

“You did.” He gives an incredulous laugh, noticing how you are absolutely dripping. He rubs the tip of his member against your folds, coating himself on your slick. The feel of it against your hole, firm and scorching hotel, makes you squirm with the need to take him in. “You really did.”

“Stop teasing.” You complain, trying to move your hips and chase him. It's useless. The position Daemon has you in lets you do little but be smothered by him.

Suddenly, there is a pull in your hair, making you shriek. Your roots hurt, so you arch your neck, going with the movement his fisted hand is imposing.

“And who do you think you are, little girl? To order a Prince?” It's nasty and menacing, whispered in your ear as he forces your body to bow. “It must be so hard, acting so tough all the time. So collected, so proper. When, in reality, you just need someone to take you as the wanton whore you are.”

You can only gasp, seeing white stars reflected on your eyelids, the stinging pain of the pull heating your poor scalp and neck.

“I hunted you down. I brought you to your knees. I own you.” Daemon pushes forward in a single, punishing thrust. You scream, desperately scratching the grass for purchase. He is not very deep, but he feels huge, splitting you open in all the right ways. Often, when Daemon and you go to bed together, your foreplay is much longer. He is not as young as he used to be, or so he says. Despite it, Daemon finds ways to prolong your encounters even when his body doesn't cooperate. You are not used to taking him without preparation and it shows.

“I am in charge.” His voice comes out strained, through gritted teeth. He pulls at your hair, just for the sake of it. You feel sweat start to gather at your temples and lower back, both from the strain and how heated your blood feels. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You mutter, struggling to form a coherent thought thanks to the way he is fucking you.

“Louder.” Daemon snaps his hips against yours. His grip on your hair gets even more punishing. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” It comes out in a sob, as you try to hold on to the grass, the earth, anything. Your fingers hurt from clawing at the dirt, your face slowly getting squished against the grass. Despite how much you struggle to stay somewhat upright, you are no match for his strength.

“What was that, my Lady?” The smell of moss and sweat fills your nose, as Daemon presses you down in an even more brutal way. He kneads at one of your breasts, cruelly. “I didn’t catch it.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream, voice hoarse. Your words melt off into a litany of moans, punched out little noises that seem to come out from so deep in your chest that they are more like sobs.

He lets go of your hair, encouraging you to lift your hips instead.

“Raise your hips.” His hand rubs at your hipbones, demanding. You obey, too weak to fight him. This is the part you like the most when you play like this. The way your mind goes blank, and you can focus only on obeying him. “Good girl. What would your servants think if they saw you like this? Their lady, reduced to a breeding bitch.”

The demeaning words bring you out of your haze. He can’t… Surely, he wouldn’t. You won’t allow him to ruin your reputation, not like this. You try to get up and fight his grip, but Daemon lowers his hand and starts rubbing at your pearl until you are a trembling mess. The last thing in your mind is getting away from him.

“You take me so well, little girl.” He coaxes more and more pleasure out of your body, forcing it to rise to impossible heights. You feel like you are about to fall off the edge, stomach tensing, knees buckling until you are face down in the dirt. His hands on your hips are the only thing keeping you upright, as you scream and scream, whole world blooming into pleasure. “You were made for me.”

No matter how much your cunt flutters and twitches in pleasure, Daemon keeps fucking you. He doesn’t seem to care that you are overstimulated, that it’s too much. He chases his peak unashamedly, losing all inhibitions.

“I’ll fill you up with my seed. Put a bastard in your belly." The words are spoken in a frustrated tone, probably not even meant for your ears. "You won’t be able to keep running, then."

While you have insisted on previous encounters that Daemon pulls out, you find yourself curious about his words. Is he really going to spill inside you? Being one to avoid compromise so badly, you would not have expected Daemon to even think of doing so. Has your teasing driven him so mad he is unable to contain himself?

Never before have you felt so smug. You have him. Finally. The satisfaction is too much to bear, so you decide to reward him by clenching around his member.

The reaction is immediate. Daemon curses and his hips lose all rhythm. He muffles his scream on your shoulder, panting wildly.

You get to marry him not even a month later. After all, returning to your castle in a grass stained dress, with the Prince in similar conditions, is a picture that speaks for itself.

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littledemondani · 6 months

Note

bestie can i get something abt fuckboy!eddie and shy!reader selling to you but you don’t have enough money if you catch my drift 😏

warnings: fuckboy!eddie, fem!reader, oral (m receiving), r buys weed from eddie, r is shy but not shy?, no use of y/n

you’re normally so put together. there’s never been anything or anyone that has ever caught you off guard. you’re so quick with witty comebacks and overall being the epitome of confidence. all of your friends pride you on it, while some wish they had even an ounce of your courage and lack of giving a shit about what anyone thinks of you.

so, when you meet eddie munson, the dealer your best friend suggested could hook you up with some weed while you’re home visiting family from college, you are taken aback by how quickly you fucking fold.

his charming smile, bright personality, and overall damn good looks rendered you fucking speechless. you’re a bundle of nerves, fidgeting in your seat and looking anywhere else but at him.

eddie finds it adorable. normally he’d be annoyed to hell and cut the deal off, but your soft eyes and voice captivate him.

“so, whaddaya say?” he asks, holding the baggie filled with weed out in front of him. “you good with twenty dollars?”

you stutter for a bit, having completely gotten lost in the warm brown of his eyes. “yeah, yeah, lemme just…”

you open up your wallet and visibly deflate when you notice how much is in there. fifteen, not enough to cover the full amount he’s willing to charge you. you mutter a low ‘fuck’ under your breath, but not nearly low enough.

“something wrong?” eddie presses, leaning forward slightly against the picnic table as he looks you up and down.

“i don’t have enough,” you say, tossing your wallet back into your purse. “i’m sorry. i thought i had way more in there.”

eddie takes a minute to respond. he’s mulling something over in his mind, rapping his fingers against the wood of the table as he does so.

“what if,” he says slowly and thoughtfully. “you can pay me another way?”

you pinch your brows together, clearly not understanding what he means. “wait, huh?”

“i’m saying…you don’t have to pay me with money, sweetheart,” he raises a brow at you, a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

then it hits you. the realization of the offer he’s giving you. you’d done that more times at school than you’d like to admit. but in those instances, it was always you who suggested blowing them, and what twenty-year-old college boy was gonna say no to that?

you just never expected yourself to be on the receiving end of that same offer.

“so what, i blow you, you give me the weed, and that’s that?” you ask, suddenly getting a sliver of your confidence back.

eddie studies you for a bit before grinning devilishly. he normally isn’t this straightforward when he sells. opting to keep it professional at all times but there’s something about you that makes him throw all of that out of the window.

“i think it’s a pretty fair trade,” he points out. “but if you’re not into that, then don’t worry about it. this is only if you want to. i’m not a sleaze ball like that.”

you stand and walk around the picnic table, trailing your fingertips along the old wood. you stop in front of him and sink to your knees, keeping your eyes on him.

“i think it’s pretty fair, too,” you say, rubbing your hands up his thighs to the bulge already formed.

he shifts and widens his legs a bit to make room for you, his eyes darkened with lust and anticipation.

you waste no time in undoing his belt buckle and pulling his jeans down just enough for his long, thick cock to spring free of its confines.

your mouth waters at the sight of it, throbbing and leaking at the fat tip. you dart your tongue to lick it up, moaning softly as you do so.

eddie groans at the feel of you, bringing his hand to grip onto your hair. his eyes roll back as you wrap your lips around the tip and suckle, bucking up towards you instinctively.

you slowly take more of him down your throat. you gag a little, though it only turns eddie on even more. he grips your hair tightly, and you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back from fully fucking your face.

once your gag reflex settles, you set a steady pace, swallowing around him.

eddie brings himself to look down at you. you’re already gazing at him, and he smiles.

“you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth, sweetheart,” he moans, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “shit, i could get used to you like this.”

you bring your hand to his heavy balls, giving them a gentle squeeze before massaging them. eddie whines at your touch, tipping his head back as he curses.

“your mouth feels amazing,” he says, holding your head still so he can fuck into you. “goddamnit, i’m gonna cum. fuck, you’re too good.”

he thrusts a couple of times before his release overtakes him and he cums straight down your throat. he moans loud, shuddering a bit at the intensity of his orgasm.

when he finally lets go of you, you pull back and swallow the remnants of his cum.

“here,” he pants, reaching for the baggie to hand it to you. “a deal is a deal.”

“thanks,” you stand on shaky legs and take the bag from him, giving him a soft smile.

he tucks himself into his pants while you make your way back to the other side of the table to gather your things. you put the baggie inside your purse and fling the strap over your shoulder.

you take one last look at him, watching him as he takes hold of his black metal box. thoughts of wanting to see him again cross your mind, and before you could even stop yourself, you’re walking back over to him.

without saying anything, you reach for his hand and write down your name and phone number on his palm.

“see you around,” you tell him with a wink as you slowly back away from him to head back to your car. leaving him at a complete loss for words.

#eddie munson #fuckboy!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 days

Note

Congratulations!!

If you feel inspired by this combo and have time, could you write a ficlet using "I", 🍨, 🥰 or 😂, and 🔨?

Thank you!

(Apologies if you already got this ask--my device froze when I sent it the first time, so I don't know if it went through)

Thank you so much! 🥰I still remember your lovely comments on the mer-dude fic, so I hope you enjoy this little bonus! 🦕❤️🧜🏻‍♂️

Of mates and mer-dudes

Words: 996

Rated: T

Tags: summer camp AU; mer!Steve; established relationship; flirting; sexual tension; fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as Just add water

“Hammer.”

“Hammer,” Eddie repeats dutifully. Dustin spends two or three seconds trying to drive the nail in with the object he's been handed, until he realizes it's a screwdriver.

“Very funny. I said hammer.”

“Apologies,” Eddie mutters, chucking the screwdriver back into the mess that is their toolbox with one hand and wiping his sunburnt forehead with the other. “I think we've been out here longer than is strictly healthy. How ‘bout we call it a day and head back to camp? It's almost dinner time.”

Dustin scowls. The hair under his Thinking Cap is matted with sweat and he is red-faced and splotchy. An unavoidable side effect of working out on the secluded pier all afternoon.

“We can't just stop now, it's almost done,” Dustin claims, gesturing at their rickety construction of wood and mesh - it’s supposed to be an oversized fish trap, even though Eddie thinks it’s turning out to be more of a funky modern art installation. “This'll work, I know it. This time, I'll prove that Lovie is real. All those past times, it got away too quickly, but if I could just-”

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie groans. “You and your lake monster. You don't know when to give up, do you?”

“Give up?” Dustin scoffs. “If Thomas Edison had given up, we'd still be lighting candles. If Homer Ahr had given up, we would've never walked on the moon. I sure as hell won't-?”

“The fuck is Homer Ahr?”

Dustin heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Only mission control's chief engineer, Eddie? Honestly, that's the kinda question I'd expect from Steve, not you. Where is he, by the way? I thought he wanted to help us.”

“No idea,” Eddie admits. “Lucky bastard.”

Dustin draws a breath, probably to ask what he means, but Eddie is saved by the sound of the dinner bell floating over from the camp grounds.

“Okay, you gremlin, off you go,” he says, pushing the kid towards the sound before another argument can break loose. “We can finish this tomorrow when we aren't dehydrated and grouchy.”

Dustin grumbles. “What about you?”

Eddie waves him off. “Be there in a sec, lemme put away your shit first.”

He starts picking up their scattered tools, throwing them back into the box. Only when he's sure that Dustin is well out of earshot does he collapse at the edge of the pier, naked feet dangling over the water's surface.

“Man,” he says. “That kid, right?”

There's a soft growl from behind him, and the barest of sloshing sounds, and a shadow falls over him. He only just manages to suck in a breath - knowing he'll need it - before a massive snout pushes between his shoulder blades and he goes plummeting into the lake. He’s dimly aware of the toolbox going down with him, and then the world vanishes in a whirl of bubbles.

He resurfaces to the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and massive fins brushing his legs, and the sound of laughing voices - one human, one very much not so. He tries to glower at their owners, but actually needs a second to part the sopping curtain of his hair.

“So fucking hilarious, you aquatic asshats. I thought I told you to quit doing that.”

Lovie the lake creature just chirps merrily and dives back under again, splashing him with her fins as she goes.

Steve shrugs. The motion makes tiny droplets of water run down his bare shoulders and collarbones, bringing out his freckles and moles and tiny, glittering scales. Eddie wants to lick them. He has long stopped worrying about what that says about him.

“Sorry. She just wants you in the water with us. She likes it when the flock is together.”

His smile is apologetic, but his tail curls around Eddie’s legs in the water, fins wrapping around the two of them possessively.

Because, see, here's the thing. Over the past year, Eddie has not only discovered that his infuriatingly pretty fellow camp counselor is a mermaid and the guardian of an ancient lake creature. He has also somehow managed to score said mer-dude as a boyfriend and been adopted into the lake creature's flock.

“She never does that shit with Buckley,” he grouses, even though Steve’s words make something flutter in his chest. Steve's touch, also - hands on his hips, fins on his ankles. “She's part of the flock, too, isn't she?”

“Yeah…” Steve blushes, a delicious pink hue on wet, sun-tanned skin. Eddie wants to lick that, too. “But Robin isn't my…”

He trails off into an unintelligible mumble after that. Eddie wrinkles his brow.

“Your what? Come again, fish boy, I didn’t-”

“My mate,” Steve blurts, and the fins on his hips flutter excitedly under Eddie’s fingers. “Robin isn’t my mate.”

Eddie feels his mouth drop open. The water is unpleasantly cold against his flushed skin.

“Wait,” he says when he finally remembers how to form words again. “Hold on a second. When did that happen?”

Steve’s face is still scarlet, but his lips start twitching when he meets Eddie’s eyes. “That’s just the way she sees it. You can’t expect her to think in human standards. Now c’mon, we gotta get to dinner or the kids will wonder where-”

“Oh, no!” Eddie interrupts him, mouth tugging into a stupid, wide grin of his own. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to tell me that we’ve been mer-mated for God knows how long and never officially consummated that sacred connection. I’m gonna get a mer-divorce if you don’t-”

“Oh God, shut up,” Steve groans, and kisses him.

As he gets dragged off to their favorite little shore, well out of sight from the camp grounds, Eddie bids a brief mental farewell to the toolbox lying abandoned at the ground of the lake. He’ll have to make up some story about where it went when Dustin asks him, but that's a problem for later.

For now, he’s got other things to think about.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #just add water #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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itstheghostofmypast · 1 month

Text

Tornado Warnings

Idol Song Mingi x (F)Reader

Summary: She had to tell him one way or the other, but she didn't want him to take it any other way than it really was. Who was she confronting though, at the end of it all, herself, him, or their relationship?

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: insecurities, depression, anxiety disorder

Est.Read Time: 25 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Ratings: nc-17

Banner: @cafekitsune

Song Rec: Tornado Warnings (Sabrina Carpenter)

Staring up at the ceiling she wondered if she should tell him or not. He had been sitting at his desk, hunched over, the expanse of his broad shoulders making it look extremely painful. Ever so often he'd mumble to himself, reading out a verse, shaking his head, and then scribbling it out, the room littered with paper balls. After an hour of collecting them and throwing them in the bin, she had given up and decided to read instead- that was 3 hours ago, and by now, the room looked like it belonged to a toddler.

Slamming his hand on the desk he groaned, the wood shivering under his large hand. He was frustrated, she could tell, and he could tell too, but he wasn't frustrated because of the lyrics- no that was just part of the frustration. He was frustrated because he wasn't able to pay attention to her today, spend time with her, or talk to her, even though he had invited her over today. They were supposed to be free today, which they were, which is why he called her but as soon as he saw her face he felt as if the world had stopped and his brain had begun to jumble words together for some coherency- it frustrated him how she was his source of inspiration, yet the subject of neglection.

"Mingi?" She finally decided to break the four-hour-long silence. Shit. She probably wanted to leave, she was probably tired of waiting for him, of course, she was, why wouldn't she be?

"Mingiiiiiii~" she whined, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him, the soft material colliding with his head with an umf. Rubbing his head he turned around, staring at her, eyes filled with dread.

"Yeah- I- am almost done-"

"I want to go to a therapist."

"Sure-" he paused, confused, staring at her for a second, brows knitting together in confusion, why? Was he the reason? Did someone hurt her? Was there something she never told him-

"Mingi, if you keep making that face and zoning out, I'll beat you with a pillow."

Snorting at the threat he stood up, shaking his head before stretching his arms over his head, making him look even taller. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze she frowned, unsure if he was going to take this well or not, but the moment he jumped on the bed beside her, his action causing the whole bed to rock, a laugh wracked through her body.

He laid there on his side, facing her, head resting on his palm, elbow digging into the sheets, most of his legs dangling off the bed as he smiled at her, "Okay, no more intrusive thoughts or work, you have my full attention".

"Finally," muttering, she reached over to run her fingers through his brown, unkempt, spikes, "Look at this nest..." His eyes closed at the kind gesture, only to snap open at the latter statement, "It goes with the concept- does it not look good?"

"Of course it does."

"Then?"

"Just makes it harder for me to...." she trailed off, averting her gaze and pulling her hand back to her lap. Sitting up straight he frowned at her, reaching over to clasp her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Love...what is it...you- we promised to always share right?" His voice was calm but she could sense the desperation in his words, slowly pulling her closer, both now sitting cross-legged on the bed, she was glad his bed was as big as him because even with his legs folded in and back pressed against the wall, he was taking a lot of space.

"I told- I mean, you know how I said that I kind of feel off these days?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been seeing this therapist and-"

"You're going to therapy? You didn't tell me? Is everything okay? Did something happen? Wait, you want to or are you going to one?" Brows knitted together he licked his lower lip, ready for more of his interrogation, why hadn't she told him? Did he have a role in this? What was the premise of the situation, were they going to be, okay?

Raising a hand gesturing him to stop and calm down, and for herself to do the same, taking a deep breath she exhaled and gained some form of composure. "I... okay, so, I only went once, free trial kind of thing, but then, she asked me a few questions I couldn't really answer, so I stopped- its been a week so yeah..."

Nodding in return he pursed his lips in thought before muttering, "What kind of questions?"

"Relationships..." He nodded at her short response, thinking for a moment before humming, "And...that makes you feel uncomfortable?"

It wasn't like she felt uncomfortable, in fact their relationship was one of the most important and joyous highlights of her life, but it was one that she was to keep to herself, at least for some time. It's not like she didn't know this before committing to this relationship.

"I- the thing is..." She began slowly, he could tell by looking at her expressions that she was choosing her words very carefully, "I just feel like I'll be lying, so it'll make the session pointless, on the other hand, I don't want to talk about us because what of it is leaked or something else..."

Nodding he thought to himself, humming as he leaned against the wall. He understood where she was coming from, on one hand, he knew how important it was to have a clear head, a cluttered mind often leads one to some form of depression. On the other hand, he wanted to be selfish and keep her all to himself, but letting her go...would make her happy, then the question is, did he love her enough to let her go?

He took a deep breath, pulling his hand away from her, choosing to cross his arms over his chest, as if he were holding down what was bubbling within him, and began his question, trying ever so hard to ensure his voice didn't betray him, "Do you...want to" only it did, turning into a faint whisper " ...you know?"

'"What?" Confused she looked at him before noticing the way his eyes had watered, connecting the dots, only to gasp and yell, "NO YOU IDIOT!"

Grabbing the closest object, she smacked him, over and over again, lucky for him it was a pillow, "WHY WOULD I WANT THAT?" she continued, hopping off the bed, after he had jumped off, to run from her.

"I DON'T KNOW?"

"MINGI! I JUST DON'T WANT TO LIE ABOUT YOU" She threw the pillow that hit the desk, things falling off, wells he had thrown it at him, but he had ducked out of the way, "YOU GENIUS, WHY WOULD I WANT TO LEAVE YOU!" She could feel the bottled-up emotions ready to blow, all the insecurities and second thoughts, the side comments and feelings fuzzing up, ready to spill, mixed with anger and sadness. To think that he would jump to such a conclusion so quickly. Was she not there for him enough? Did she not express her love enough? Or did he not feel the same way for her- in terms of depth and intensity, perhaps he was looking for a moment, a moment he could use to finally escape from her broken form, she was basically a whole package as it is, a burden he had to hide and conceal from the world- perhaps he was tired of keeping secrets too, only unlike her, maybe he wanted to completely let go, but who was she to say no to him, who was she to cling onto him?

"WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DISCUSSED THIS WITH ME BEFORE GOING TO ONE!" He yelled back, frowning at the mess, standing a good distance from her. Okay, perhaps he was upset, not only did she never mention the therapist before, but now he felt like maybe he was the problem. Though his voice had betrayed him, choosing to side with his bottled-up frustration, doing that one thing he had never wanted to do when it came to her, yell at her, to raise his voice and put the blame on her, even though he could clearly see her façade crack, yet here he was shoving it until it shattered.

For a moment she stared at him, quietly trying to arrange her thoughts, to understand her feelings, trying to deal with the turmoil, trying to compose herself, she knew she should have consulted with him before even getting an appointment but, perhaps she was not ready for the yelling. Letting out a frustrated sigh and closing his eyes, he rubbed his face, trying to calm down, to block out all the noise running around in his head. He didn't mean for it to get out of hand, especially not like this.

"I..." she began, only to sigh and shake her head, "Never mind, please forget I ever mentioned it." Walking over to the things that had fallen off his desk, picked up each item, and lined them up neatly against the wall. She could pretend this never happened, that therapy never happened, that her feelings getting the best of her never happened, the feeling of being choked by her own thoughts never happened- not because he had yelled at her, no, but because of the fear of losing him, she’d rather watch herself slowly crumble away than to lose him like this. A toxic trait, it really is, she could now see what the therapist had meant when she told her ‘You must love yourself first before being able to love someone else’, but how could she just let him go? When he had always been there for her, and for once when he couldn’t help her, what was she to do? Leave him- perhaps that would have been better for him, but maybe, just maybe, the jealous little insecure girl in her wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

"Mingi?" his eyes snapped open at her soft tone, meeting her meek gaze she patted the bed, "Why don't you lie down for a while, I'll order something to eat-"

"Why are- " he corrected himself, "were, you seeing a therapist? " Cutting her off, he stood there on the same spot. Watching her sigh as she sat down on the place she had cleared for him, staring at her lap, "Because...I just...sometimes I feel things...Mingi and I can't understand them and it's like I'm being choked by my thoughts."

His gaze softened at the confession, sighing as he walked to her, taking a seat next to her, he pulled her into his side, arm wrapped around her shoulders, "I- do you feel like that because of me? Because of us- I mean I'd understand because we have to hide our relationship." his words were soft, but she could sense the desperation. Leaning onto him she shook her head, reaching for his free hand, as she began to play with his fingers.

"Never," whispered she clasping her smaller hand in his much larger one, "It was and will never be you- you, this relationship, us, this is the highlight of my life." A smile grew on his face at her words, pulling her closer, if that were even possible.

"But" she pulled away, much to his disappointment, “The thing is, if I lie in therapy, then I won't get a proper diagnosis" She paused staring up at him. Silently nodding he scrunched his nose, trying to push up his glasses without letting go of her hand. An extremely inefficient way, but he didn't want to ruin the moment, maintaining eye contact right now was vital. He knew when she looked up at him like that, she'd be hinting at him to process her words instead of reacting. The way her eyebrows were slightly raised, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, ready for her tongue to roll off the next list of words.

"But?"

Reaching with her free hand she slowly pushed his glasses up, sliding them up the tip of his nose to the bridge, "I don't want to lie about you, I can't pretend you don't exist. How can I say I am single? Forget our relationship for an hour I spend there, skip through the pages of our days spent together, like a chapter pulled out by the editor at the last moment." pulling her hand away she sighed, laying back down on this soft bedding, legs dangling off, arms folded above her tummy as she looked up at the ceiling- it would've been impossible to confess her insecurities and fears while looking right at him. The innocent face he'd make, pouting at her like a child, slowly processing her words.

"How do I lie about you in that office, then come back out pretending I never did such a thing, how do I get back to the rhythm without missing a step?"

Mingi let her pull away, knowing she needed a bit of space, he did do- more than often. So, he sat there, staring ahead, but his attention was solely on her words, patiently waiting for her.

"Even if I convince the doc you don't exist, does this mean I'll end up convincing myself that too- or worse, what if I end up convincing you that I- we, no longer exist."

She had no idea when she had begun to cry, not even a memory of when her vision had turned blurry, but a hand reached up to furiously wipe away the leaking emotions, the guilt that had begun to choke her soul, with a grip so tight and strong that it scared her.

"The worst part is, that you're not even the problem, you aren't the reason for my trip, but factors in my life I cannot control. My family, apparent friends, and this pressure- sometimes I just text you at night, knowing you're asleep, knowing you're tired, knowing you won't reply instantly- but you're like the light at the end of the tunnel, and I can't help but reach out for it when I'm being pulled back into my pit and-" she paused when she felt the bed shake, sitting up on her elbows she noticed his trembling shoulders.

"Min... are you okay?" sitting up, placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave it a light squeeze. "I just...the reason why I walked out was because she asked me if I had anyone around me, I could rely on with my eyes closed. And Mingi...I sat there, staring at her face like an idiot, how could I tell her, the person I blindly rely on is the goofy, giant, artist- I came to know about another idol whose doctor exposed him and well, I can't risk that, but I don't want you to have a partner that's not emotionally fit...you deserve the world Mingi, you deserve to be with someone who will love you as much as you love me, you have a big heart Mingi- I…I don’t I’m selfish, even though I know you deserve all that, I can’t let you go, and I’m not really sorry for that…I-" With a slight pause she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trying to control it all, for the sake of it, for him, she whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

When she got no response from him, she moved closer, shaking him a bit, "Mingi?" she leaned closer only for him to turn away whining as he let out a choked, "Don't, Yunho says I look ugly when I cry."

She couldn't help but snort at that statement causing him to frown and turn to glare at her. Unfortunately, his red, puffy eyes and trembling lower lip made it too difficult for her to take him seriously as she gushed over him, "Awww don't cry -"

"You're an insufferable woman," he pushed her hands off as she wrestled to not move them, her laugh resonating across the room.

"What? you look cute!" she tried to pull him closer as his large palm pressed against her cheek, trying to push her away, "You’re a masochist, you can't say such things and then laugh! You do need mental help!" he half cried; half yelled in protest trying to not ruin his "cool" image any further.

Their little banter was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by its opening a bit as a head poked in, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you guys okay-" Seonghwa paused at the sight before him.

With one hand she was pulling on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, while her other hand was gripping the leg of his track pants. His eyes scanned the other idiot, whose palm was squished against his girlfriend's face, fingers covering half the side as if he was trying to push her away, while his other hand, arm extended completely, was gripping onto the edge of the bed like he was trying to escape. He noticed their puffy eyes and tousled hair, but he was so confused.

Seonghwa had been asked by Yunho to go check on Mingi. He was in his room when he heard the younger one yell, followed by a few things falling on the ground. He knew Mingi well enough to know he wouldn't do something stupid, but he also knew that the idiot had no control over his tongue when he was emotional. However, this was not what he was expecting to see.

"uhh... never mind."

The door closed as the two exchanged a look and burst out laughing, Seonghwa who was on the other side of the door shook his head and walked away, leaving them be.

She was too busy laughing to realise when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight as she wheezed. Her face was buried in his neck, giggling against him. He let out a sigh, letting the silence envelop them both for a while, her body still pressed against his, arms not budging an inch, both of them lying on the soft bed. The sound of their calm breathing, mixed with the low buzz of the air conditioner had almost lulled her to sleep, his warmth wasn't helping her either. Just as her brain was about to slow down to neutral, she was violently shaken awake, "Excuse me, don't you sleep on me."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU~" whining she pulled away only to almost fall off the bed until he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." he smiled at her, when she placed a soft hand on his cheek, pinching it, "I'm not upset Mingi."

"You know Hongjoong is a great person to talk to" he suggested but stopped when he saw the face she was making, "what?" he asked, placing a limp arm on her waist.

"You realise he once advised me to put laxatives in your juice when you pranked me on my birthday."

"WHAT-" He gasped sitting up, "SO IT WAS HIM?"

"So, I think I should just stick to talking about my problems with you." she sighed, laying on her back and closing her eyes, "After a nap though- and you treat me with a nice meal, after ...that," she mumbled, feeling the fatigue left by the rush of various emotions. A few seconds had passed and she was almost asleep, her reflexes slowing down. She was almost asleep until she felt something soft press against her lips for a quick second before she was enveloped by extreme warmth, which could only be him pulling her closer, ignoring the problems and insecurities of the world for a few hours- just the two of them together, alone, peacefully happy in their dreams.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee

@mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

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oftidheard · 5 months

Note

could you write something about sejanus with a covey reader please? maybe them being introduced through snow and lucy? thank you so much!

i will always accept requests with a covey reader/involving the covey i just love them so much ♡ they meet at the lake after sejanus joined snow and lucy gray (+ reader and the rest of the covey of course)!

♟ and when again they open, the sun will rise. ㅤ⠀sejanus plinth x reader ㅤ⠀↳ 1.6k ↳ fluff ↳ gender neutral

your hand reaches out of the water to grip the pier, and if it weren't for the frightened gasped paired with your own for air, you wouldn't have noticed the way the boy sat an arm away had jumped at your sudden appearance.

your effort to heave yourself out of the lake pauses as you secure your hold on the wooden structure, and turn to him and try to conceal your amused laugh.

"sorry," he doesn't look distressed anymore, thank goodness, and you almost catch a relieved smile when he realises you're not some sort of deep sea creature here to bite off his ankles.

you flash him your own apologetic smile, and resume your climb up. but when your hand — wrapped around the pole that while usually secure has now been splashed water — slips from its hold and almost throws you back down into the water; you turn to the boy lucy gray had brought along.

"can i have a hand?" you ask, nodding to your precarious position.

his eyes seem to widen, as if he feels bad for not helping you sooner, and he's quick to reach for your hand. your hands secure on eachother's forearms, and though it shouldn't surprise you — he looks strong enough to have been the one that built this pier — your eyebrows still fly up when he lifts you with ease.

but as your figure rises from the concealment of the water and his eyes accidentally flicker downwards, they widen and the grip on your arm faulters for a second.

you don't laugh for his sake, you don't want to be mean to a friend of lucy gray's — and he seems nice himself. but it does bring your amused smile back as you wonder what he thought you'd be wearing to swim, if not the bare minimum.

though once you're securely sat atop the pier, you're quick to pick up your clothes and cover yourself — mostly for his sake, but also because the breeze dusting across your damp skin runs unpleasant chills down your spine.

once the fabric is securely around you, you make a show of shuffling to sit comfortably on the rough wood, and gazing out past the lake into the mountains. but in the silence, you watch the boy out of the corner of your eye, suppressing yet another smile as a soft pink still dusts his cheeks and you catch his averted eyes flickering back to you anxiously; as if wondering — even though you're fully clothed now — if it's okay for him to look in your direction now.

as fun as it is to watch a boy as nice looking as him get flustered, and as much as you enjoy messing with people, you note the genuine unease he must be feeling surrounded by a family of people he's never met before today.

so you do what you do best — when your family members have bad days and need a distraction, when you take things too far and back yourself into a corner, when you simply feel like it for it makes you feel alive just as singing and playing music does for other covey — you talk.

"sejanus, right?" you ask, only turning to look at him when he nods and faces you too — you then introduce yourself with a kind smile.

"lucy gray says you're not capitol."

you hadn't meant this accusatorily, nor as some sort of intimidation tactic at the beginning of your first ever conversation; and with the way he seems understandably hesitant but mostly remains unperturbed, you think sejanus recognises that.

"yeah," he nods, "i grew up in district two."

you smile at that, having your own childhood memories from when the covey travelled through two.

"i've been there," you say, and his head now fully turns to you attentively, "i was just a babe so there's not much i remember, but there was the food."

sejanus's eyes light up, he doesn't remember the last time he's been able to openly discuss his home, especially not with someone who wanted to — let alone knew anything about two.

"yeah?" he smiles, unconsciously leaning closer to you.

you fondly remember the little slices of bread your parents had been gifted after a performance one night; you recount to sejanus how within your little hands they'd been soft enough to rip apart, but filled you up more than any delicate cake could.

sejanus's smile has grown ear-to-ear with an enamoured sparkle in his eyes, and he's quick to tell you about how his ma would make the same treats, with her own touch of cream on their insides that tasted so good he swore they were made from the fluff of clouds.

"she'd sprinkle sugar on them too, when money got better..." he starts the sentence with the same excitement as before, and though the light in his eyes doesn't quite disappear, it fades until you can tell that he knows you see the sudden sombre shift in his demeanour; and he ducks his head.

you hesitantly rest your hand atop his that sits atop the peir; which you quickly pull away and pretend you never reached for in the first place, when you realise the sudden contact from a stranger may not work for him — and the slightest bloom of a smile from him that dissipates when the contact is lost remains a well kept secret.

so then, instead, you shuffle just a little closer, and playfully knock your shoulder against his to try to lighten the mood.

"when i was there, we went through a village just by the border of ten," you smile, more to comfort sejanus than any other reason — but you can't deny your own unfiltered happiness seeping through, "we climbed one of the littler mountains high enough to see through to the fields."

your gaze turns back to the mountain range past the lake, and you imagine the sky around it painted with the unforgettable pinks and oranges from two.

"we watched the sun set across the fields, then watched it rise above the mountains after passing through ten."

sejanus's eyes are on you again, an unwavering gaze that might've made you curl in on yourself, if his eyes weren't so full of joy again as you recall your travels in two.

"i miss the sunsets," he says, and you agree.

it occurs to you that with a peacekeeper's schedule on top of the short amount of time he's been here for, sejanus may never have even caught the beginning of one of the better sunsets in twelve.

you turn your body to face him, and direct his eyes with a point to a gap between two prominent mountains.

"if you catch it at the right moment the sun rises right between them. wait a little longer for her to emerge and it's like she's shining just for you, sunbeams piercing down like arrows."

"then," your hand drifts to point out to the centre of the lake, "you row out there just before she goes down, and you're in the middle of sky's canvas."

you don't notice sejanus's smile now redirected to you as you passionately explain this to him, but he notices the enthused twinkle in your own eyes.

"we used to walk 'round to the other side to watch it reflect off the lake, but there's nothing like being in it."

"when i first moved to the capitol," he says as quietly as the ripples in the lake caused by the idle rocking of your foot grazing the surface, "i was scared."

you wait patiently as he takes a breath and watches the calm water below.

"the sunset was the only thing that didn't change, when it got dark enough i could pretend the buildings it set behind were the mountains."

you let it sit for a moment, joining him in watching the way the lake sways with every breath and embraces your legs as they dip in.

"my mother used to say," you speak with a softness to sejanus that carries the tune of a secret shared with someone you trust, "that as long as the sun is in the sky, you're never lost, and never alone."

out of respect, you don't watch when you hear a hushed sniffle from beside you, but don't shy away from letting your pinky finger rest atop sejanus's own hand that had moved closer again.

you're going to ask sejanus something — what? you're not quite sure, maybe more about district two, maybe if he wants to hear the silly little song you'd written about the sunrise when you were a kid, or maybe if he wants to row out to the middle of the lake with you to watch the sunset tonight — but are cut off by a call of your name.

you turn to the shore, and find clerk carmine waving to you, with tam amber by his side holding a tangle of rope and an apologetic smile at interrupting you.

you're quick to rise to your knees — in preparation of heading over for what will probably be another afternoon of tam amber and the younger covey attempting to teach you how to tie a net — but cease your movements for a second to face sejanus.

"i don't know how free you peacekeepers are to roam after-hours, but how about we take the boat out for sunset some time?"

sejanus nods, "that sounds really nice."

you give him a grin, "it's a view worth breaking a couple rules for."

and with that and a sly wink — which you do not miss his (adorable) flustered reaction of this time around, though paired with an unabashed smile that could rival yours — you're up and jogging back to land, thinking of a boy you'll have to thank lucy gray for bringing along.

#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

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anilovie · 5 months

Text

Anakin taking care of you when you’re sick.

WC: 1.5k

TW: mentions of throwing up but very brief and no descriptions.

You distinctly remember thinking to yourself — “I better not catch whatever this is” — as soon as the third youngling came into the medbay puking all over the place.

You wore gloves, washed your hands, put on a mask, even knocked on wood— yet you still woke up in the early hours of the morning to an excruciating cramping in your stomach, making you curl into yourself and roll around your bed until your dinner worked its way up your system and out into the toilet (that you thankfully reached just in time).

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so lousy. Being a medic, you knew how to take care of yourself and rarely ever got sick. Much less with a bad GI bug, one that kept you in bed and away from your duties without letting anyone know.

It was very unlike you to go radio silent; which is why Ahoksa thought it was strange that you hadn’t met her in the great hall that morning to go on your daily caf run, like you always do before the day truly begins.

She sought you out in your room, where the lights were still off and it smelled of sickness, and you were bundled in your blankets in the midst of a fitful sleep.

Too weak to get up, you croaked that you didn’t think you could get caf with her today, to which she was completely understanding of. She let you be, cracking a window open on the way out to let fresh air in.

Then promptly went straight to Anakin.

You stirred to the sound of the door opening not even an hour later, lifting your head enough to catch sight of a tall, familiar silhouette equipped with leather tabards, thick utility belt, and lightsaber hanging off the left hip. Something twisted in your stomach, a ball of nervousness rising in you as you realized Anakin had come to see you… alone.

You let your head fall back to the pillows, closing your eyes at the uncomfortable aching in your stomach. You felt the bed dip by your feet as Anakin perched on the edge, metal hand coming up to rest on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Not feeling so good, huh?” He spoke in a hushed voice, rasping in the low register. Despite the pain in your tummy, you preened at his proximity and innocent touch. You’d had the biggest crush on Anakin for quite some time now, but he didn’t know that.

You let out a disgruntled “Mmm” and curled in on yourself further, overtaken by a wave of nausea. Thankfully, you’d forced yourself into a shower after your third round of puking, which was somewhere between midnight and dawn. You were clean, but you’d also slept on wet hair, so you looked all messy.

“Ahsoka said you’ve been getting sick?” He tried to get some words out of you, thumb rubbing soothingly across your arm.

“‘Think I picked something up from the younglings,” you mumbled, face still half buried in your blankets. “You might not want to get too close.”

“How many times have you been sick?” He completely ignored your request.

You thought for a moment. “Three or four times. Haven’t had to in a couple hours though, so I think I’m getting better…”

“Show me where it hurts.”

He wasn’t asking, but his tone was so soft you couldn’t deny him. Plus, he’d come here for you.

You shifted around in bed, rolling onto your back so that you were now looking up at him, surrounded in a cocoon of blankets. You pushed them down to reveal your tummy, clad in your softest and warmest sweater.

“Just my stomach,” you refused to meet his eyes. “But it’s not so bad anymore. Just feel… icky.”

“Hm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to your face before landing on the hands covering your stomach. You never forgot how handsome he was, but it still shocked you like a slap in the face whenever you were met with him head-on like this. Paired with that soft, raspy voice, the obvious concern in his eyes, and the fact that he’d come just for you— you wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Can I try something?” He spoke, and you lifted your gaze to his face warily. You trusted him, so you nodded your head.

He brought his hand — the flesh one this time— across your body and let it rest on your tummy gently. Just the one hand almost spanned your whole abdomen. You immediately squirmed your hips back, not expecting him to have touched you so brazenly. You and Anakin were friends… but you had yet to cross a line like this before.

You let his hand rest there, hoping he didn’t notice how squishy and bloated you were right now, and if he did, that he didn’t mind. Your hands were curled into fists, tucked under your chin as you peered down at his gentle touch on your tummy curiously, wondering what he was doing.

“Just like this,” he assured you when he saw your alarmed face. “How’s this feel?”

You focused on your stomach again, expecting to be met with that gross nauseous feeling that had been plaguing you for hours. It was still there, but now it was… dull. Muted, like he’d snuffed out the discomfort with a blanket.

Unable to help yourself, you brought your hands down to his, one hand closing over his wrist and the other fitting atop his outstretched hand, keeping him just where he was. “Feels better, Ani,” you sniffed, eyes fluttering closed as warmth from his touch seeped into your aching tummy, soothing it all away.

The corner of his lips pulled up slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just kept the gentle pressure over your stomach with a little look of concentration on his face. Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, you let yourself fully relax back into your blankets.

He thought you looked so cute — and slightly pathetic — at the way you melted back into the bed. Cheeks flushed with sickness, hair all messy, oversized sweater falling off your shoulder and over the hands grabbing at his own… he’d stay with you all day if he could. But alas, he had duties to attend to.

“This should last for about half an hour,” he spoke gently after a while. You groggily opened your eyes and frowned as he pulled his hand away, shivering at the loss of warmth and contact.

“Mkay,” you couldn’t keep the whine out of your voice, though you were too proud to complain. “Thanks, Anakin. Doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“Good,” he cooed, this time with a full smile. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, eyes probing into your face as he scanned you over. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down.”

“What about something bland… like toast?”

“Mmm,” you crinkled your nose up at the thought, gloriously subdued nausea making it easier to relent. “Alright. But only with a little bit of butter, not a lot.”

“Got it,” that strand of hair seemed to capture his attention, because he kept running it through his fingers, his touch tickling your cheek. “And some tea?”

“Sure,” you squeezed out a grateful, sheepish smile. “With honey, please. Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Anakin leaned over, planting a quick kiss to your forehead. Your skin tingled where his soft lips made contact, eyes blown wide at the sweet action. “Coming right up.”

He left like he’d done nothing at all. Meanwhile, you were lifting your hand to trace your fingertips over the spot he’d just kissed, the phantom touch of his lips still lingering.

You huffed lightly, flustered, and turned onto your side to curl back into a ball. You buried your lovesick smile into your pillows, clutching your favorite stuffie to your chest as you listened to the distant sounds of Anakin clinking around in your kitchen.

It didn’t take long, but you’d still fallen half-asleep again by the time he returned. With the pain in your stomach temporarily dulled and the exhaustion weighing on you from your sleepless night, it was easy to pass out again. Anakin woke you with another gentle touch to your shoulder.

“I’ll leave it here for you when you’re ready to eat something,” his tone dropped to a whisper, not wanting to disturb you anymore. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be back to check on you tonight.”

Your whole body filled with warmth at his words, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You nodded and blinked open your eyes, blearily regarding him from your blanket cocoon.

“Thank you, Ani,” you slurred sleepily, shivering as he let his flesh hand cup your cheek in an affectionate touch. He was just taking care of you. It didn’t mean what you wanted it to… but it was nice to pretend. “Have a good day. Be safe.”

He just huffed out a silent laugh and withdrew his hand. You were still smiling when you heard his bootsteps recede and your door close. You allowed yourself to fall back into a blissful slumber, head fuzzy with the remnants of his simple touches, clinging to the fact that he would be back later to see you.

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olsenmyolsen · 7 months

Text

Ups and Downs Pt. II

master list

dark master list

Slight MCU AU (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Be sure to read part one!

Summary: Your neighbor across the hall isn't anything like you thought she'd be.

Word Count: 4.7K

TW: Men, Guns, Violence, Bad Flirting, Fighting, Shooting, Blood, Feelings, Needles

Of course, the day you met the prettiest girl possibly in the whole entire world. You were also in a shootout with a spy.

Okay, yes, the spy and the girl are one in the same, but you get my point.

"How long ago was the guy here?"

"I-uh.." Since Nat's hands and sweet voice were all over and around your body, you truly lost any concept of time.

Nat ignored your non-answer as she looks out the window where her sniper is positioned before turning to you with a worried look.

"Y/N GET DOWN!"

You barely had time to move your body before the windows next to Nat exploded, sending you, her, and pieces of glass flying everywhere. Her body lands on its back in front of yours. New forming cuts already on her face. "Nat?!" You asked, sounding muffled due to the ringing in your ears.

Shit, a lot of you will hurt tomorrow if you get through this.

"Ow.." Nat blinks, her eyes opening as she wipes the blood from her forehead. Before she looks you over, making sure you're not harmed. "I gotta say that looks a lot cooler in the movies." You state.

"Yeah, I know." As if Natasha watches anything but classic James Bond. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She gets up on her knees in front of you but keeps you down low to the floor. Her hand on your back provides you with reassurance. Plus, it feels nice.

Should I tell her that my throat needs to be reassured?

"They blew out the windows because they saw me. If I know them.. and I do. They're about to send in smoke bombs. Try and flush us out. Whatever you do, regulate your breathing. Okay. In fact..." Nat keeps the two of you low but begins to move you both back to the kitchen. "Here." She grabs her bag off the counter and throws it down. Nat reaches into a side pocket and pulls out a hard mask.

"Come here." Nat motions you to come closer, and like a good girl, you do. "You're going to wear this." Nat quickly wraps the mask around your face. "As you can tell, your vision will be slightly askew, but your breathing will be fine as long as you..." Nat trails as she raises her eyebrow.

Fuck she's so fucking calm right now, and it looks so fucking hot on her- oh, she's staring at me. Oh, uhhh-

"Keep my breathing regulated?" You answer, which earns a proud smile from Nat. "Yep. Good job." I am a good girl. You think with a smile.

"Wait!" You grab onto Nat's arm. She stops rummaging through the bag to look at you. "What about you? Do you have a mask?" Nat shakes her head at you. "I only have one. But don't worry." She smiles. "I've dealt with far worse."

Nat pulls out a pistol you hadn't seen before. She looks up and onto the dining room table. You follow her eyesight. The small silver discs. "I can grab them."

"No, wait!"

You go to reach forward but get yanked back by Nat. A sniper shot rings out, the bullet going through the wood right where your hand would've been. "You okay?" She asks with a soft gaze, looking into your mask. You nod, even though you're growing more scared by the minute. "Shit, they have more than I thought." Nat rubs her hand up and down your back while she thinks. You believe this action to be absent-minded. But Natasha knows you are scared. The last thing she needs is for you to be scared and get hurt or, worse, killed.

So she's thinking of you first.

"Why haven't they fired the gas yet?" You ask. Nat looks at you before looking at the window. "They're playing a game. Shit.." Nat bites her lip and thinks.

You see her biting her lip, and you start thinking, too.

But you both aren't thinking remotely the same things.

"They're trying to draw you out. They know you're here with me." Nat looks at you. "Give me your hand." You hold it out for her as she takes your wrist and gently places the pistol she had behind her back in your hand.

"This is a Beretta 92. It's a very accurate close-range weapon. Okay? Keep it low. Away from yourself and me."

"What, Nat, I can't-"

"It holds 15 rounds. When the magazine empties, this thing will slide lock back like this." She shows you. Keeping her eyes on you instead of the gun. You look at her as she repeats the action.

"Natalie, I don't think I can do this."

"Natasha." She replies.

"What?" You tilt your head, confused. "Natalie is a cover. Natasha is my real name."

Unbeknownst to you is that Natasha still wasn't even her legal name.

You don't miss a beat before replying with: "You look prettier as a Natasha anyways."

"Really flirting? Now?" You shrug. "I've been flirting all along. It's about time you caught on." Even though you most certainly HAVE NOT been flirting this whole time. "So, is that what you call it?"

Natasha wins this battle.

"Look at the gun, Y/N." She coos you. You move your eyes to the gun as Nat holds your hand with hers. Showing you the first few steps again.

"Okay, now to reload-"

Nat gets interrupted as three canisters shoot through the broken windows. The second they land, they start leaking smoke. "Don't be scared." You go to argue that you're not, but with a smile, Nat raises her eyebrows, earning a scoff from you. Sassy even in a life-or-death situation.

"Okay, to reload. Push this down." She begins to talk faster as you both can sense that instruction time will be over soon. So she pushes your hand. "The empty mag will fall out, and then you shove the other one in. Like replacing batteries in a flashlight. Okay?" She asks as the smoke creeps into the kitchen. You nod, feeling the weight of the gun in your hand when Nat removes hers.

"Nat, I don't think I can do this. Shooting people." You clarify. Nat turns and looks into your eyes as the sound of men marching up your apartment building becomes louder and louder. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She grabs the sides of your mask so you can look into her emerald eyes.

Okay, how is she hotter now that she's covered in bruises and blood? Will I look hotter if I'm covered in bruises and blood?

Should I ask?

"Y/N, listen to me! These men are coming in here to kill you and me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, but in the event that I'm not able to, I'm trusting you to be able to defend yourself. Okay? Don't use it unless you have to." You nod with a dumb grin on your face that, thankfully, Natasha could not see, or else she would think you really were hopeless. "Most importantly, don't move unless I tell you to. Please don't do anything besides shoot this gun unless I tell you to. I say duck, what do you do?"

"Duck... Goose." You joke, but before Natasha could scold you, the front door to the apartment flies off its hinges. However, thankfully, the smoke has now possessed the room, covering for you and Natasha...

...Natasha?

You look to your right to see no one next to you.

Great, even in a shootout, you can't keep a girl.

You sigh and stay still as heavy footsteps are heard entering the apartment. You do your best to count, and you assume five men are now here to kill you. You stay still on the floor in the corner of the kitchen when you hear one of the men speak up. "Come on out with your friend, little widow! We promise not to hurt her."

You rolled your eyes through the mask, and that's when you heard two shots being fired off before a loud thud hit the floor across the apartment.

"How did she do that?!" You hear a heavily accented man yell before a multitude of bullets are fired from an automatic weapon.

However, instead of Natasha getting hit, she jumps up off the coffee table in the middle of the living room and knees one of the men in the nose. Making him stagger back in pain, leaving him little time to think as she attaches a widow bite disc to the man, shocking him to the floor but not before grabbing his pistol and aiming it at the other man in the room, sending one shot to his thigh and the other to his left shoulder before she empties the magazine and throws the pistol at the guy's face knocking him out.

Two more men to go.

Lucky for Natasha, the shooting and her elegant, quick movements confused the last two dummies. Plus, with their own smoke, it makes it impossible to see someone as highly trained as The Black Widow.

You nearly jump when Natasha slides on the kitchen floor before you. You go to speak, but Natasha signals with her hands to zip it.

You nod and try to think about how good she looks, kicking these guy's ass.

Natasha puts a hand in front of your face, making you focus up. You okay? She asks with her hands. You nod, making the redhead spy smile.

A genuine smile, too.

And even though she said it earlier, that's when you truly realize that Natasha is protecting you. Whether it's her job or not, you like to believe it's because she cares for you. Even if just a little bit.

Your beliefs would be correct.

However, before you could ask Natasha if she was doing okay or what her favorite color is, you watch her take off running. The smoke in the room shoots out and away from Natasha. You watch in amazement as Natasha jumps and wraps her legs around a man's head before spinning the top half of her body around, sending the man head first into the floor. His nose breaking on impact. Her landing on her feet.

Is it weird that you want that done to you?

"Your friends are taken care of. So I suggest you come out and let me kick your ass too." Natasha speaks aloud with her back facing you to the last man standing as the smoke in the room clears.

You stand up from the ground and take a step towards Nat. The gun still tightly gripped in your hand. Your eyes remain on Natasha as she starts to walk back towards you; however, before she turns around, your body gets hit with a force from the side. Launching your head into the cabinets to your left.

"Ow fucker!" You yell!

The crashing sound and your curse alerting Natasha. The larger man places his hand on your mask and pushes your head into the cabinet again, this time making it bleed as his other hand reaches for your gun. "Give up!" He yells before removing his hand from your mask to punch you in the side of your body. You groan and stumble.

He reels back to hit you again, but instead, Natasha rips the gun from your hand with efficiency and pistol whips the man in the face, sending him flying back. The man yells in pain as he readies himself to fight, but Natasha is fast. She runs and kicks the guy in his ankle, making him fall to his knee. She smirks as he yells out in pain before she double kicks him in the throat, making him fall as he begins to choke.

Before anger entirely overtakes Natasha, she hears you crash to the floor behind her. When Natasha turns around, she sees blood on the sides of the counter.

"Y/N!" Natasha runs to your side and drops the gun next to the two of you. Instantly, she's ripping the gas mask off of you and turning your head. "Let me see." She gingerly pulls your chin, making you look away so she can examine the extent of your head injury. "It doesn't look deep. But we need to stop the bleeding."

Natasha quickly looks around the damaged kitchen before finding a forgotten rag. She places it on your head and hates how you wince in pain.

"Keep your hand here." Natasha takes your left hand and places it over the rag over the cut. "Be honest.." You start as Natasha looks over the rest of you.

"Do I look cool or like dogshit?"

Natasha's lips crack into a smile at your joke. "You look so cool," Natasha says, whether it was true or not. "You took some hits, too. Impressive." Natasha says with a smile. "Yeah, well, someone didn't yell Goose." You playfully hit Natasha's leg with your foot.

"Next time." She says.

"Oh! Next time?" You say and continue. "Planning on our next date being another shootout?" You raise an eyebrow but wince when you move your head a bit too much at the moment, saving Natasha from seeing her blush.

"Who said anything about a date?" Natasha quips. You knew it was coming, but you still had a smile. "You're right. I guess shootouts aren't a good date idea. I'll pick something better for, let's say... Friday?" You laughed at your own joke per usual, but ended up coughing in pain. Not per usual.

Natasha's hands immediately went to the hem of your shirt before you reacted. "Hey. What did I say? We haven't had our date yet." Natasha thought it was cute but still rolled her eyes. "I need to check to ensure you're not bleeding internally."

"Can you really tell?" You questioned. "No. But I know a thing or two more than you, so let me look." She had you there. So, with your permission, Natasha slowly lifted your shirt but made a face when she saw your red skin already bruising and enlarging. "It's not awful, but it's going to hurt a lot before it gets better."

Natasha places her hand over the area and begins to rub. "Does it hurt here?" She lays a small out of pressure, forcing you to nod in pain. "Not at all." You whine and clench your jaw. "Okay... I'm going to call this in. Get us evac'd."

Your eyes widened not because of Natasha's words but because of the guy behind Natasha. Yes, the one she kicked in the throat started to get up. "Natasha..." You said, making her look into your eyes. "What's wrong?"

She noticed how you looked.

Natasha turned behind her to see the man perched up on his good knee. Gun in hand. She immediately puts her body directly in front of yours.

"Step aside, widow. Let me kill this one without trouble."

"Not going to let that happen." Natasha reached behind her and expertly grabbed the gun she gave you earlier from the floor and pulled it in front of her, not wasting another breath as she fired the weapon twice—one into the man's chest and the other directly into the man's head.

From her crouched position, she got up with precision and made it to the man on the floor. She kicked the smoking gun out of his hand and made sure he was... Wait- smoking gun?

Natasha looked from the gun to you.

Fear ran through her body as she saw your figure slumped over on the floor in a bigger pool of your own blood.

Natasha would've ran to your body if this would've been her first time in a position like this, but it wasn't. She had saved countless people before, and she was not about to lose you!

So Natasha ran to her bag and rifled through a side pocket until she found her phone and a needle of Tetrodotoxin B. A drug developed by Bruce Banner with the idea of slowing his heart rate to one beat per minute. Natasha didn't know if it worked on Bruce or not, but she knew SHEILD had it for some reason.

Right now, that reason was going to be you.

As Natasha flicked the end of the needle and pulled your arm out in front of you, she called Clint on speaker phone. "Sorry if this hurts," Natasha said to your now unconscious body. Her eyes watering.

"Hello?"

"Go secure!" Natasha yelled as she sat your body up and ripped off the right half of your shirt to examine your bullet wound.

"Secure," Clint replied. "Shit!" Natasha replied, confusing the bow and arrow man. "Natasha?"

Nat looked at your head wound and the rest of your body. The Banner drug was going to help keep you alive, but you were still losing blood.

Natasha hated everything about this moment.

Ups and downs. The day Natasha met someone who didn't know who she was. The day she could actually see herself being around someone was also the day they were bleeding out in front of her.

"I need evac! Safehouse A is blown. Got caught up in a shoot out, and Y/N is hit."

She got up and went to look for whatever medical supplies she had in addition to any extra clothes to get you changed and wrapped your wound.

"Y/N?" Clint questioned. "Like the Golden retriever? The neighbor from across the hall?"

"Yep! She's not going to make it unless you send someone right now, Clint."Natasha didn't want to believe her words. Barton, for one thing, couldn't.

"Are you serious?"

"Serious as a God falling from the sky."

"Go to safe house B. Evac is on the way."

With that, the line clicked, and the call ended. Natasha did her best to dress your injuries before the only thing she was doing was watching how slow your breathing had become...

You woke up to bright lights above you and a horrible feeling in your nose... and head.... and shoulder... and side. Wow!

Wow.

Okay, so you actually had this horrible feeling called pain all over you.

You tried lifting your head to look around, but it felt like a ton of bricks was pushing on your skull. But you pushed through and found a short brown-haired man sitting in a chair by the only door in or out. "Who the fuck was he?" You thought and tried to speak, but your throat was too scratchy to say anything, making you cough.

The man in the chair looked up at the noise and noticed you.

He sent a quick message on his phone before closing it. He got up from his lazy position, running to your bedside table, and filled up a tiny paper cup full of water. "Here." He said as he held it in front of your lips.

You don't know if he didn't trust you or if your hands/arms were too weak. You didn't want to find out, so you took a sip from the cup and let the cold water run down your burning throat. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Silence. "Natasha should be down here soon. I let her know you woke up." You tilted your head and looked over the man, slightly nodding. "So you're Y/N?" He already knew, but Clint was happy he could talk to someone new for a change. Even if he did talk like an uncle, you don't see but once every couple of years.

"Where am I?" You ignored the man walking back to the chair near the door and asked.

"You're safe if that's your concern." He spoke, but you just sighed. "Anytime a woman is alone in a room with a man and he says something like that. It doesn't make her feel safe."

Clint bit his lip as he listened to your words before nodding along. "Can't argue with that." Clint got up again from the chair and made his way to you. Making you jump and look him over. "I'm Clint. I'm the one Natasha spoke to on the phone." You remembered the phone call before the windows blew out, but not much after getting your head thrown into a kitchen cabinet.

"Hi, Clint. Are you going to tell me where I am?" You asked in a tone more annoyed off than friendly. Clint smiled. "I see why Natasha likes you."

Now that got you interested!

But before you or Uncle Clint could say anything else, the door opened, and in ran Natasha. Her cuts are all covered by bandages, and her face clean from a shower. "How long has she been up?" Natasha passed her friend, stopping to stand next to you.

"I let you know the second she did." Clint smiled at you and Natasha. "I'll leave you to it." Natasha thanked Clint, and the two of you watched him leave the room.

"You probably feel like shit huh?" Natasha questioned, but as she reached to move a hair from your face, you backed away. Natasha didn't understand why. "Y/N?" She asked.

"Who are you?" You asked, making Natasha's jaw drop before she quickly recovered. Helen didn't mention any memory loss. Natasha looked away, a little hurt that this might be the case, but when she looked back, she saw you smiling. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Holding in a laugh.

Natasha figured it out.

"Fuck you!"

"I got you!" You laughed and cheered before wincing in pain and coughing. Making Natasha smile at the instant karma while getting you a cup of water. "Serves you right."

She held the cup up to your pink lips and watched a little spill out the corners of your mouth. She watched a droplet slide down your throat and disappear into your gown.

Your voice bringing Natasha back. "I just lived through many movie cliches. I HAD to do this one." You said, making Natasha smile and nod to you before she sat at the edge in the middle of the bed.

Natasha wanted to reach for your hand as silence enveloped the two of you. She wanted to tell you how close you were to dying or how scared she was. But Natasha didn't reach for your hand.

Instead, you reached for hers.

"You know if a hot spy is going to come into my hospital room in an unknown location, the least she could do is hold my hand."

That made Natasha Romanoff blush.

"Hot spy, huh?" Natasha teased, but you just nodded, feeling confident. "Look in a mirror, Natasha." Natasha laughed. "Sometimes you really just don't stop flirting." That made you smile. Natasha didn't say it was lousy flirting. "Just wait till we start dating."

"Oh?" Natasha raised her eyebrow but hit back a smile. "Is that what we're going to do?"

"Yeah, remember, shootouts don't count. So Friday, you and I are going out." Natasha shook her head but didn't disagree. "You don't even know what day it is." That was true. "Friday...?" You looked at Natasha with hope, but she shook her head again. "Nope. Besides. I like it went my dates aren't still in a hospital bed." You sighed but internally screamed at Natasha, flirting back. Natasha watched you before turning away. Her thumb rubbed over yours.

"Hey.." Natasha started making you look at her. "I- I'm sorry for getting you involved in my mess. You-" Natasha stopped and pulled her hand away to rub her face. "You almost died because of me." Natasha felt guilty. She should've kicked you out the second you weren't a threat. Instead, she liked having your company. In the minutes you spent in Natasha's presence, she wanted to keep you around.

"Natasha." You reached out for her hand again and was surprised when she gave it to you. But you still pulled her hand, making her look to you. Her green eyes shining. You nodded for Natasha to scoot closer.

She did.

"Don't blame yourself." Natasha went to open her mouth, but you interrupted her. "There's no doubt I would be dead if you hadn't been there. Besides... I'm the curious one. I knocked on your door. I wanted to get to know you. I stuck around because I wanted to. My body hurts like hell. But I'm alive because of you."

Natasha didn't look entirely convinced, but that would come in time. It was sad to see this badass person beat herself up over something that wasn't your fault or hers. It just happened because of horrible people. "Can you at least do me something?" Natasha tilted her head. "What?"

"Can you at least tell yourself that you saved me?" That sounded like a big ask at the moment but not as big as the next thing. "And! Tell me that you actually enjoy my flirting because it's only going to get worse." That made Natasha throw her head back and laugh, making you smile.

You were so focused on Natasha that you didn't see the room door open.

"Oh wow, never thought I'd see the day. Natasha Romanoff laughing! Time!?!" The man with a striking anchor beard and a Tom Ford suit called out as he walked closer to the bed you laid in.

"Good to see you awake. It's nice to put a name to the face of my almost-dead Budapest employee."

Tony Stark looked you over as sassy as the man is known for before looking at Natasha, who was internally scolding him for mispronouncing Budapesht.

"Quite a catch, that one. So what's the diagnosis?! How long we got?" He picked up your chart and began flipping through paperwork he should not be looking at before Natasha took it. "Tony..." She sounded exhausted already. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you." He said, looking upset that your chart got taken away from him. "I came to see who was moving in."

If Tony Stark. Your boss. Who also happens to have a hobby of flying around in a gold and red suit wasn't shocking enough to you than that last sentence that he said was.

"Moving in?!?" You asked, shocked. Ton- Mr. Stark- no Iron Man..?! What were you supposed to call him?!

Mr. Tony Man looked from you to Natasha before saying: "Looks like you didn't tell the Misses." This made Natasha get up and grab the not-so-tin man by his collar, whispering methods of torture she would use if he didn't leave the two of you alone.

"I expect to see you at work once you make a full recovery!" Tony yelled and pointed at you before the redhead slammed the door in his face.

Natasha composed herself before turning to you, still wearing a shocked face. "Moving in?!?" You asked again. Natasha nodded as she walked to you. "Yes. We-" She sighed. "I thought it would be the safest option for you. Plus, you can recover here. You're back in the States." Natasha's words fell on the quiet side before she sat on the bed.

Closer to you this time. "I can think of a few other reasons.." You look at Natasha and smiled.

"You don't have to. If you want to leave or go back to Budapesht, I understand." Natasha wants you to know that there is no pressure to stay. But you already know this. If you wanted to get up right now and leave, Natasha would probably let you.

"Staying might be nice."

"Yeah?" Natasha looks hopeful. "Yeah." Natasha smiles and reaches her hand to your face. Moving a stray hair back behind your ear. "If you do stay, that means I can tell you the best part."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" You curiously ask as Natasha looks at you like she's got some big secret.

"I'd be your neighbor across the hall."

You were free to leave the hospital bed 4 days later.

The next day you moved in right across from Natasha Romanoff.

A week later you took her on a date.

dividers by @/benkeibear

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