#please excuse all typos i just wrote this

[familyvideostevie]

Hi hello🍄✨🌼 I would like to ask for a friends to lovers Eddie munson x fem reader, where Eddie's announcing to the reader that he's going on a date with a girl and it gets a bit angsty and they stop talking for a while but eventually she admits that that she likes him and they get together. If this is too much or not your thing feel free to ignore. Hope you have a great day ✨🌼

darling! i hope this works for you, let me know! <3 angst w fluff at the end! | 2.3k, fem!reader

The sun is warm on your face as you wait for Eddie to get out of class. You're meant to go to the library today to work on his history paper, but he's late. You don't really mind, since it's a rare early spring day in Hawkins. Having the day off, you walked to the school and chanced a skirt today, glad to stretch your legs out in front of you where you sit on the steps. The sounds of the campus are soothing as you close your eyes, chin tipped up. Someone playing frisbee, cars starting and stopping, skateboards over the pavement. Shouts and laughter. It's a perfect day. 

"Don't be late tomorrow, Wheeler! You too, Henderson!" Eddie's voice from behind you makes you smile, warmth spreading through your chest at the sound. 

Being friends with Eddie has made your life better in so many ways -- he is kind and caring, sure, but he is funny and brings you out of your shell. He has introduced you to a gaggle of other teens and they've welcomed you into the fold. Eddie makes your life full and makes you so happy you could burst.

Maybe it was only par for the course that you've fallen in love with him. But, friends you stay, because that is enough for you. And if sometimes you think Eddie's gaze lingers on your lips, or if he holds you a little tighter than necessary when you sleep over? Maybe someday you'll ask him about it. But first, getting him to the end of the school year and into a job at the record store with you.

You keep your eyes closed as you feel him plop down next to you, chain scraping the stone steps. He bumps his shoulder with yours. 

"Now, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" The corners of your mouth turn up but you try to muster a frown. You open your eyes and allow yourself to drink him in for just a moment. Warm eyes, wide grin, messy hair. Your Eddie, pretty as a picture. 

"Waiting for someone who is late," you cry, mocking affront. "I'm burning to a crisp out here."

"Looks like you're enjoying it," he smirks, running an index finder over the freckles on your cheeks."You look like a dandelion in the sun."

"Are you calling me a weed, Eddie?" You roll your eyes and stand up, brushing off your skirt. His eyes follow your movements, and you pretend not to notice. "Real nice."

"A pretty weed, babe. Honest." You snort and he laughs as you walk to his van. "And I know my weed." No doubt the sun has warmed your cheeks some, which is a good thing since you're definitely blushing.

He pulls out of the school parking lot and heads towards town after you've hopped in and buckled up.

"Y'know," he starts, glancing over at you. You're already looking at him, of course, and he smirks. "I was late because the weirdest thing happened."

"I heard you talking to Mike and Dustin. Hellfire stuff?" He shakes his head. 

"No, just ran into them as I was leaving." He pauses, fingers tapping a random rhythm on the steering wheel. "Lester asked me to go out with her this Friday. To her brother's gig in the city."

"Kate Lester? From your English class?" You furrow your brow and look out the window. You feel a little mean for being surprised. 

"You know her?" 

"A little," you say. She'd been your lab partner your senior year. She's kind and pretty, a year younger than you, and going to University of Cincinnati in the fall, according to Nancy. 

"What's she like?" Eddie huffs. "She's never talked to me before, really."

"Then why did you say yes?" The question comes before you can stop it. His eyebrows raise and he searches your face for something before looking away. Your shoulders drop. 

"Well, she asked, I guess." He shrugs. "Seems to think I'll like some amateur punk music. Don't know where she got that idea." He looks at you to see if you'll laugh at him, but you're focused on the road. 

"She's nice," you say, and you mean it. She is nice. "I'm sure you'll have a great time." You try to keep your voice bright because you really do want him to have a nice date, even if it's with someone who doesn't know him like you do, with someone who doesn't already love every inch of him. Eddie is a catch, anyone should be able to see that. 

It's just that you thought everyone knew you and Eddie were youandEddie. Even if you're just friends, it's been you two against the world for a while. Late nights watching him practice his guitar, staying over in the trailer after helping him study, long walks when he has nightmares. You've got a drawer of his clothes in your room and he made you the guest of honor at Hellfire Club for your birthday and he visits you at work whenever he can. You know that he loves you, but maybe it's not ever going to be the way you love him. 

"What's wrong, sweet thing?" The pet name makes you shiver. His hand reaches over and cups your knee, thumb pressing into the bare skin, his rings leaving little indents. His eyes flick between you and the road and you feel a little guilty, but can't muster the will to pretend. 

"Headache," you mumble. He gives you a squeeze before letting go. 

"Do you want me to take you home?" His voice is soft, gentle with you in that way of his. 

You shake your head. "We agreed to do your essay today, Eds." He's smart on his own, but he works harder when you're there to encourage him. 

"I can read and write, you know. I'll be fine on my own, honest. I'll drop you at home."

"You sure?" You're going to be no help anyway, now that you're sulking over a date that hasn't even happened yet. He nods.

That night you try not to think about it but you fail. Your brain is fuzzy all week at work, but when Friday rolls around you put on a brave face. 

"We're leaving right after school," he tells you at lunch -- he's driven over to see you on your break during his free period. "Driving into the city and then back tonight."

"Be safe, okay?" you say. "No drinking." Eddie is a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. Still, you can't help but make him promise. 

"I'd never," he replies, seriously. "We'll just see some shitty music and be back before midnight, probably."

"Are you excited?" you ask, running your hands through your hair to stop yourself from brushing his out of his face. 

He hums noncommittally. "Lotta driving for a first date," he huffs, as if it just occurred to him. "Didn't even know she knew my name till this week."

If you didn't know him so well you'd say he was self conscious. "Oh, stop that," you say. "You're a catch, Eddie Munson, you hear me? She's lucky to be going on a date with you."

Eddie fixes his gaze on you and looks and looks and looks. You meet his stare with your own, until he breaks and grabs your hand, dragging it up for a sweet kiss. Your heart breaks a little, but you smile. 

____

You don't know why you do it, really, but you avoid Eddie for the whole weekend after his date. And the entire week after. You sit in the break room during lunch in case he comes in, and pick up extra shifts to beg off when he asks you to hang out. You even go to the skatepark with Max. Anything to keep you busy. A small, ugly part of you wonders if he even notices. 

Robin calls you from work a week after you last really spoke to Eddie.

"Do you know why Munson is in Family Video right now looking like a kicked puppy?" she asks, the line crackling. "Steve is telling him he's scaring away customers."

"Why did you call me about it?" you ask, twirling the phone chord around your fingers. It's Saturday night and you would bet that it's just the three of them in the store.

"Don't be dense," Robin replies, not unkindly. "Does this have to do with his date last week?"

"Robin, shh! Can he hear you?" You pause. "Wait, how do you even know about that?"

"Kate told Carol in the locker room and Vickie overheard and told me. Do you even know how it went?" She sighs. "Of course you don't, since Eddie has told us no less than four times that you haven't spoken for a week."

The guilt rises up in your throat. Have you gone and done the thing you wanted to prevent in the first place -- ruin your friendship?

"Is he mad?" you whisper into the phone. Robin barks a laugh. 

"Mad? Have you ever seen Eddie get mad? Other than that time when I made fun of his music. But at you? I don't think he can get mad at you." You rub at your eyes with your free hand. 

"Okay," you say. "Okay. Can you tell him to come over to my house, please?"

"Roger that," she chirps. It sounds like she pulls the phone away from her mouth before yelling, "Munson! Y/N wants you at her house, pronto."

You hear a faint Thank Christ from Steve and a Really? from Eddie. 

"Thanks, Robin," you say. 

"No, thank you," she laughs before hanging up.

The sun is setting, so you decide to throw on a sweatshirt and wait for him outside so you can go for a walk. You've barely sat on your stoop when Eddie's van pulls into your drive. He seems to steel himself before getting out. 

"Hey," he calls, his voice hoarse. You stand. It takes about four second of looking at him for you to start running and before you know it you're in his arms. He thunks back against the door of his van and you bury your face in his neck, his hair tickling you, but you don't mind. His hands stroke your back, up and down, and the tension seems to leak out of him. 

"Hey," you whisper, before you pull away from him just enough to see his face. He looks wrecked and your stomach twists. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No," he says loudly into the night. His hands come up to cup your face on either side. "No, I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm so fucking sorr--"

You place your fingers over his mouth. "You didn't do anything." He looks confused, so you continue. "This was all me, Eds. I've been a horrible friend to you this week and that's the last thing I wanted to do but I went ahead and did it anyway."

"Why?" he breathes. You take his hands in your own and draw them down between you. 

"I--," you start, then take a deep breath. "How was your date?" you ask. You need to know before you tell him. 

Eddie looks confused, but answers. "Music was fine. She just wanted me there to make the drummer in her brother's band jealous," he admits, rolling his eyes. Your eyebrows furrow at that. "It's okay though," he continues. "Because I'm not really into Kate."

"Oh," you let out. 

"But what does that have to do with you not talking to me?" His thumbs trace circles on your skin. His eyes have nothing but warmth for you and it gives you courage. He'll forgive you for this, you think. You can still be friends. 

"I want more than anything for you to be happy, Eddie," you say, and then lose your nerve at the last second, closing your eyes before continuing. "But I'm in love with you." His thumbs still. 

"And I know that's no excuse for how I've treated you this week, because we're friends first and you're my best friend and --" 

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, sounding breathless. "Look at me, please." Your eyes fly open. He's looking at you the way he looks at his guitar, the way he looks when he's finished a campaign he's proud of, the way he looks at you when you wake up next to him. 

He's looking at you like he always does, you realize. He's looking at you like he loves you. 

"Can you say it again?" he whispers. 

You don't hesitate. "I love you, Eddie." The words seem to pour out of you now. "I have for a while. And it made me jealous to hear you were going on a date, which I have no right to be, since you should be happy with whoever you wa--"

"Hey," he interrupts again, and this time you can see the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Let a guy talk, huh?" His hands return to your face and you nuzzle into one palm. "I am happy." He smiles. "Happy with you." He sighs, and it's a happy sound, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "My best friend." His lips find your right cheek next to his hand, and then your left. "Girl of my dreams," he continues, and you're grinning, now. He kisses your nose and you giggle.

Eddie pulls away and you almost whine. He looks serious, but you can't stop smiling. 

"I'm in love with you," he says. "I love you. Can I kiss you?" You find the ability to nod somehow, since Eddie has just blown your world to pieces and you didn't know you could feel this happy. But as his lips find yours and your hands tangle in his hair, you think that you could get used to it. 

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#anon ask #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things s4 #please excuse all typos i just wrote this #first fanfic on this account WOOO #reblog and share and all that bc i have no followers yet <3 #emma’s asks

[alloganes]

A THRONE BORNE OF CARNAGE AND WAR.  ✮ IN REGARDS TO THE TRAVELER: A CANON DIVERGENCY GUIDE.

EONS AGO,   THERE WERE THE SEVEN DRAGON SOVEREIGNS    /    THEN,   THERE WAS THE USURPER.    the usurper engaged in a long,   tedious war against the sovereigns,   insistent on standing as the victor    —    a task they succeeded in,   weary as they were by the end of it.    the sovereigns retreated elsewhere,   terrified that they would be further subjugated and doomed to death.    thus,   they hid,   with many continuing to fade into obscurity even when the god’s reign was no more.    with the sovereigns gone,   the usurper gets to work:    it reshapes the heavens and earth and creates a new age of prosperity for humanity.    this age lasts for eons and humanity thrives under their heavenly reign.    however,   a new threat descends from the stars and before they know it,   their visitor would become their doom.    although history writes the first usurper’s fate to be either victorious or unknown,   the truth is that they were slaughtered.    their corpse is cast out to the stars they hailed from,   left to rot and fester in the cold expanse.    however,   a miracle occurs:    life is born from the dead.    it’s bloodied form splits into two and gains consciousness,   but neither of them can remember their true origins.    with no origin to speak of,   these two travel the expanse of the stars,   witnessing birth and destruction and good and evil.    despite the traumas they suffer,   the dead gods have each other.    

one day,   one of the siblings receives a response from a summoning,   and they head to the world that answered it.    one of the siblings had not yet awakened when they arrived,   and thus,   the other went to explore the world    —    only to find a civilization tearing at the seams. terrified,   the twins try to leave the world,   but they are barred by the sustainer of the heavenly principles.    although the fight is bloody and long,   the sustainer apprehends one of the twins and then the other.    the fate of one twin is the mystery of five hundred years.    as for the other,   it is cast down from the skies and robbed of it’s devices,   forced to withstand five hundred years of sleep and isolation beneath the frigid depths of the dark sea.    after five millennia had past,   the other twin arises and begins looking for their kindred,   searching everywhere and becoming entangled in the cycle they birthed.    although they are currently unknown to their status as primordial god reborn,   they will discover their sins in due time,   and the closer they reach to the truth,   the closer they come to reclaiming the throne they built.

( OR PERHAPS,   THEY WILL DESTROY IT FOR GOOD. )

› FIRST AND FOREMOST, THE PRIMORDIAL ONE AND SOL ARE ONE IN THE SAME. similar to the way the four shades were borne from the primordial one, the primordial one’s corpse split into two, thus creating the twins. as of the end of the fontaine story quest, sol is not aware of this fact    —    however, they have begun to experience dreams from their past life. these dreams started when it traveled into enkanomiya, but have since grown in frequency since the sumeru archon quests. these dreams are always vague and do not show the whole picture, but sol has the faint feeling that these are, indeed, memories. for better understanding, sol’s situation is very similar to kadaj and other remnants of sephiroth in advent children, however, they do not just embody the primordial one’s will: they are the primordial one.

› THE REASON WHY SOL AND THEIR SIBLING WERE APPREHENDED WAS BECAUSE OF THEIR CONNECTION TO THE PRIMORDIAL ONE. i think when the twins landed on teyvat, celestia and the heavenly principles (a.k.a the second throne who had usurped phanes’ throne) grew fearful that the twins would grow aware of their true identity and try to dismantle everything they had built since the primordial one’s absence.

› HARDLY ANYBODY KNOWS IF PHANES OR THE SECOND THRONE WON THE WAR. this is especially true for the enkanomiyans, who were trapped underground and therefore could not have seen the true circumstances after their war. however, considering that phanes’ unified civilization fell after the war and divided into different nations, this could indicate that phanes was defeated. for my canon, phanes was defeated, but history would not reflect this fact. many history books write of phanes’ victory or keep the history of the war vague. this was primarily to solidify the second throne’s place as victor and to keep anyone from knowing the truth about what happened to phanes. for all intensive purposes, the second throne masquerades as the first god to ever grace teyvat.

› EVER SINCE THEIR DESCENT, THE PEOPLE OF TEYVAT HAVE GROWN TO TRUST SOL. however, this is not any ordinary trust: it is faith. faith, just like how you would regard the god of your land. despite their best efforts to appear and act human, word gets around, and people speak of the traveler that never dies, that combats against horrors from the sea, who controls the elements and always comes out alive. it is clear they are not human, and some people have begun to proclaim them as a god. on the other, there are people who do not like this. some believe their ‘imitation’ of godhood to be close to be blasphemy and others fear them because they are clearly not human. sol does not like any of these positive or negative sentiments. it does not want to be another god to this land, not after what they’ve learned about their gods and their wrath.

› SOL’S VIEW ON THE GODS IS NOTHING POSITIVE, BUT IT’S NOT NEGATIVE EITHER. learning about khaenri’ah ruined all hope that they had for the gods and they developed further resentment for all who let these people die and suffer when they witnessed it with their own eyes in the caribert quest. not to mention, the gods have wronged them just in the way the fatui have: they’ve been deceived, attacked, and have had information withheld. frankly, the only gods sol has come to trust or regard in a positive light is nahida and furina because of how much they’ve sacrificed. it is still on the fence about venti given it does not know the full extent of his involvement in the cataclysm. they struggle with their feelings on zhongli given they had helped save his entire nation yet he could not give them further information about khaenri’ah, which they partially understand because of his contract, but it still hurts all the same. they hold similar feelings to the raiden shogun and ei considering her tyranny and encounters with death by her blade.

› SOL CANNOT DIE. at least, not easily. they can die temporarily when dealt a fatal blow such as blunt force trauma to the head, vital organs being pierced by a sword, blood loss, et cetera. however, they always come back. their lacerated wounds stitch together, their blood flows back to their body, and their bones repair spontaneously. additionally, they very rarely scar from these wounds. this being said, there are forces out there that can limit the speed of their healing factor. for example: celestial and abyssal beings. all wounds they receive from enemies such as abyss lectors, gods, and so on will leave scars and will require proper medical attention. the most notable of these scars are various blade wounds that tartaglia left during their first battle and the lichtenberg fragments that ei left during their first battle in the plane of euthymia. furthermore, the color of sol’s blood also gives away their inhumanity considering it is gold.

› SOL WILL EVENTUALLY ASCEND TO GODHOOD AND REGAIN ALL OF THEIR MEMORIES AS THE PRIMORDIAL ONE. phanes’ conscious and memories will eventually be restored, however, sol’s conscious and memories will remain, too. given sol’s memories and experiences on teyvat, i doubt they will want to kill the second throne and merely reclaim the throne they created, especially since they built that throne from bloodshed. as stated previously: sol does not want to be another god to the land. the people of teyvat deserve better than another god’s wrath. i’m still on the fence of whether or not sol dies by the end of their storyline, but it’d feel somewhat poetic. they created this cycle of destruction. they will be the one to end it.

› THEY’RE CONSTANTLY STRUGGLING WITH THEIR OWN MORALITY. sol’s kindness was born from all of the horrific things they’ve witnessed in their life time, all of which they have no choice but to remember. however, as time crawls and their time in teyvat draws on, they undergo several changes. they become quieter, fatigued, but they always manage to go on despite becoming tired of being a savior. their whole journey has twisted from it’s original purpose: they originally explored teyvat for the sole purpose of finding their sibling, but they have since been forced to take up a new role. they have seen the trauma that khaenri’ahns were forced undergo. they have become angry and resentful towards the forces that allowed such a tragedy to happen and it has grown to a point where their own rage terrifies them. part of them wants to be wrathful and to succumb to every bit of resentment that festers within the expanse of their body, but they try to keep it all under moderation for the sake of other people. they’re tired and keeping their emotions under control takes so much strength and yet they cannot voice it to anyone, because who else could possibly understand them? ever since it’s sibling had refused to go with it in favor of a greater purpose, sol has felt utterly alone.

#THE TRAVELER. ✮ I’D GIVE UP EVERYTHING JUST TO FIND YOU. #um. YOWZERS this is kind of long #anyways. please please please please please read this #the traveler is like my original character and i need you all to read my copium theory #which may or may not be smacked aside by hyv but honestly when has that ever stopped me. lmao #tldr: um! sol could be very fucking evil and horrifying if they wanted to tbh #btw if you see any typos uh. no you dont ? #i wrote part of this at like 4 am. so. excuse any mistakes or whateva

[bunnykawa]

all mine (sakusa x f. reader)

summary: Big brother Sakusa has to deal with his flirty little sister. word count: 6k? warnings: 18+, sexual themes, incest, noncon/dubcon/rape, voyeurism kinda, some yandere themes, sakusa is delusional a/n: just a little thing i wrote out of nowhere to let out some steam and because battle of the garbage dump got released in japan and yeahh i just thought about my handsome man LMAOO. sorry if it's not that great since it's been like how long?? but enjoy!! also no this isn't a part 3 to my fic from 4 years ago lolol and excuse any of my typos 😵‍💫

Sakusa doesn’t know if he should be mad or not. The glow of his alarm clock is illuminating his dark room with the soft moonlight slightly peeking in through the blinds. He runs his hands through his curls before he sighs and puts his pillow over his face. 

He can hear you. The soft moans and suppressed whimpers coming from plump, swollen lips can be easily heard through your thin walls. If he closes his eyes and really focuses, he could hear how wet your pussy is as you get drilled right next door—right next to the wall, too, because he knows that you prefer your bed in the corner of the room and the sound of the bed creaking is getting unapologetically louder and louder. He was supposed to be asleep an hour ago for early volleyball practice the next morning, but instead he’s listening to you. Every little noise, every creak, every word that slips out of your clenched teeth as you try to be as quiet as you can—”Please,” you beg in a broken voice, “Y-you’re so big, ‘Tsumu.”

’Tsumu; the little nickname that makes his blood boil and all he can think about is how much of a fucking asshole he is. Yeah, he should be mad—he has every right to be angry, he thinks. Sakusa has to see Atsumu Miya’s cocky face and disgustingly bleached hair at volleyball practice every week and now he has to hear the fucker himself fucking his little sister into oblivion in the next room. 

And now it’s getting hot in his own room! He scratches the side of his neck in irritation. Why does it feel like his comforters are suffocating him? Sakusa throws his pillow across the room and rips the blankets off of himself. The tip of his hard cock is peeking out from one of the legs of his boxers, almost as if his body is mocking him for feeling this way—for getting hard at the sound of his little sister getting split open. He grimaces for a second, but the guilt and shame can hit him later. Right now it’s too fucking hot.

So, he’s angry because he hates Atsumu—hates how Atsumu has managed to infiltrate his professional life and personal life in such a gross way. Why is Sakusa bitterly pushing his boxers down around his thick thighs? His cock springs free and he grips the shaft harshly.

“Fuck,” Sakusa mutters. He starts slowly, gently pumping his hand around his cock. It’s warm in his hand and twitching at the small bursts of pleasure, enough to allow a pained moan out through gritted teeth. When was the last time he even had someone over to use their body how he pleased? He wishes he could ignore it—ignore you—but all he does is pick up his pace as he listens to the sound of your cunt getting destroyed and your sickeningly sweet begging for Atsumu to fuck you harder.

Oh, he’s mad—so mad that everything is throbbing from his head to the head of his dick. He hisses at the pain in his temples but it does little to stop him from continuing to fist his cock.

“‘Tsumu!” he hears you cry out. The sound of your headboard slamming against the wall is getting even louder, accompanied by the slick noises coming from between your legs and skin slapping against skin. The room feels like a sauna at this point, but nonetheless, Sakusa squeezes his eyes shut as he picks up speed and fucks into his own hand like a pervert at the sound of his little sister. 

Would you be scared of him if you knew how badly he wanted to be in Atsumu’s place? How he wants to rip Atsumu away from you and make you cum on his cock the way he wants to? His skin is getting sticky from his sweat—his arm is getting tired from how fast he’s pumping his cock, desperate to release his frustrations in a stream of hot white liquid and how he wishes he could paint your face with it. He imagines how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock—if you would beg for him through watery eyes and tear-stained puffy cheeks trying to put all of him in your mouth. Is his cock too big for you? Is your pussy as warm and sopping wet as he imagines it is? 

“I’m gonna cum!” you scream, “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” Your voice cracks when you chant for Atsumu. Sakusa’s whole body tenses, every single nerve and muscle in his body on fire because damn it, he wants to be the reason why you're screaming and convulsing and crying from pleasure like a whore.

Then with a few more strokes of his cock, he releases his cum in heavy streams that land in a sticky mess on his sheets and lower abs. He groans as his cock twitches against his aching fingers. After a few seconds, he lets go of his shaft and lets it fall against his pelvis. It’s like the whole world has stopped—there’s no more erotic noise coming from your side of the wall. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the sound of labored breaths and giggling. He wonders if Atsumu is going to cuddle you to sleep and stay the night or if he’s going to run away and leave you yearning for more.

Embarrassment creeps onto his cheeks with how fast he came, but as fast as the embarrassment comes, the guilt suddenly settles deep into his stomach, into his joints, into every muscle of his being. Sakusa is disgusted with himself for letting his lust take over during a moment of weakness—lust for his imouto who doesn’t know any better, who is in the prime of her life to fuck around and find out without much of a care in the world, who doesn’t think about the consequences. Sakusa can’t do that like you do, it’s not built into him except for the few times where he did let loose—although he’s not as sloppy as you. Sometimes it feels like you were raised in different households. It shouldn’t be a surprise to him that you flirt and fuck with his volleyball teammates—or anyone that breathes in your direction for that matter. It shouldn’t—but for the first time in his life, he asks himself that if you undress for anyone…then why not for him?

He curses to himself. His expectations are too unrealistic. You’re siblings! And he knows that you both could and should never unless you wanted to ruin your relationship and test your morals. He reaches over to the towel hanging on his desk chair and quickly wipes away the mess he made. A nice, steamy shower pops into his mind, but he’s too tired to wash away his sins.

The room gets colder and his transgressions have nowhere to go, marinating into his skin, reminding him that he’s a shitty big brother for wanting to ravage you from the inside. As his mind goes hazy from how sleepy he is, he also hears a door open and shut followed by heavy footsteps and another door—your door and the front door. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. Sakusa may have a sick attraction to his little sister that he may have recently discovered, but at least he’s never lonely. You, however—

You can never make them stay long.

~

“Omi-nii~!” Sakusa hears you sing, bouncing through the hallways of your shared apartment until he feels you wrap your arms around his naked waist. He’s in the kitchen warming up the leftovers you cooked earlier in the day over the stove, looming over the counter and scrolling away at his phone. 

He scoffs and leans away from you in mock disgust, “Weren’t you sick last week? Get off me before you give me your disease.” 

“I don’t have one! I’m clean!” you whine with a pout, squeezing your arms around him tighter. You press the front of your body against his back, a gesture that makes Sakusa feel fuzzy, especially when you also press your nose against his bare back to inhale his scent. There’s something so intimate with the way you’re not even scared to hold him while he’s not wearing a shirt. His skin is fresh from the shower and his hair is slightly damp. He pulls away to look at you when he notices how nicely dressed you are. 

With a raised brow, he asks, “Where the hell are you going this late?” You pull away from him to adjust your dress. He turns to face you, his eyes going up and down your body with sick thoughts beginning to cloud his brain—sick, twisted thoughts that should have never crossed his mind.

“First of all—” you say, rolling your eyes at him, “—it’s not late. It’s literally only six-thirty, you weirdo.” Sakusa narrows his eyes as he begins to scowl. But despite his obvious look of you better not be going out like that, you happily ignore him. “Second of all, I’m going out on a date!” 

“A date with who?” he asks sharply, folding his arms against his chest and straightening his posture. He always does this to tower above you, to hopefully make you feel smaller than you are. It worked much better when you were both younger.

You bite your lip before giggling his name, “Atsumu.” You seem to get bubbly as his name rolls off of your tongue naturally with a smile playing at your lips and warm cheeks to accompany it. Maybe his heart aches a bit with jealousy when you say that stupid name, a feeling that makes the guilt settle heavily again. The last time he heard you say his name—moan his name—was a few nights ago when he did something no brother should ever do, separated by a few inches of thin walls. As quick as he is to question you, he is also quick to shake those damning thoughts out of his head before they manifest into something more and he ends up losing it in the kitchen you share. He’s scared that he might never forgive himself if he does.

“Since when the hell did you get so close?” Sakusa shoots you another question with furrowed brows. As monotonous as Sakusa usually is, the distaste is present in his tone and his stance.

“I don’t know,” you sigh so dreamily, “It just happened. I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” He could vomit if he had the chance. Out of all people—Atsumu? Really? Sweet?!

“Well, I guess you do have a disease then,” he retorts, sticking his nose up in disgust, “He’s sick in the head, (Y/N). I thought you had better taste in men but here you go fucking around with my teammate—”

“Omi-nii...” you pout.

“—like he’s the only guy you know. I expected better from you,” Sakusa continues with a puff of his chest. He turns away from you to turn the stove off. “He’s always sick, too. Always getting a cold and then going to practice like he’s not contagious.” 

It’s Atsumu taking his little sister away from him that angers him more than he could ever imagine—but it’s also knowing that he will never be the one between your thighs that makes him so disappointed. There’s a silence in the room that creeps up his back.

“You’ve been so out of character recently, Nii-san,” you ponder behind him, placing your finger on your chin to pretend that you’re thinking, “It’s not like you to lose your cool over a guy. Are you…

…jealous?”

No.

He’s just looking out for you—he’s your big brother after all! But he doesn’t know how to respond and stands still, holding his breath. Deny, deny, deny. He turns his head to look at you in his peripherals; you’re staring right at him with the same sweet eyes that he remembers from your childhood.  Maybe he has been out of character—did you really notice? As it feels like some kind of tension is suffocating him and the ground is going to swallow him, you crack a wide smile and start giggling uncontrollably, which instantly makes him frown. 

This is why you two are complete opposites—Sakusa; as serious as ever and always playing the voice of reason like a good older brother, and you; the first to laugh when it’s quiet and always being the fun little sister when things get too serious for your liking. You skip towards him and wrap your arms around him again with the biggest smile on your face, snuggling your nose into the skin of his back. 

“You’ll always be my favorite, Omi-nii. I love you more than any boy in the world,” you hum. He wonders if you can hear his heart beating louder with each syllable of your words.

Sakusa could laugh. Usually he would, before pushing you off and scolding you for getting too close to him. But his heart continues to thump and his voice gets stuck in his throat when your hand slides down his abs and brushes lightly over his twitching cock. It’s not like him to lose his composure like this. You place a saccharine kiss on the curve of his back before you hastily let go of him and walk away. 

You didn’t touch him enough for him to say anything—to reprimand you for touching your Onii-san like that—but just enough for your touch to linger where it shouldn't. 

~

A soft knocking at Sakusa’s bedroom door stirs him awake. He groggily twists and turns under his bed sheets, irritated that someone would wake him so late at night. He hears the ‘click’ of the door knob and the hinges creaking as the door opens.

“Omi-nii?” you whisper gently from your place at the door. Sakusa ignores you easily, choosing to keep his eyes shut in hopes that maybe you’ll leave him alone and let him have his peace. 

“Omi-nii,” you call his name louder and more firmly, “Onii-san, are you awake?” 

What a stupid question, he thinks to himself, but Sakusa figures that you’re not going to leave his room any sooner, so he finally opens one of his eyes slowly to see your head peeking into his room. It’s dark—you’re almost just a black silhouette in his blurry vision, but he can make out your soft and surprisingly tired features just enough. “What, (Y/N),” he groans, his voice gravelly with fatigue. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Your voice is timid when you ask—it brings Sakusa back to when you two were younger and you were just as shy to ask him the same question—and the same question is what prompts him to suddenly sit up, letting his bed sheets fall to expose his lean upper body. He rubs at his eye before looking up to gaze at you, clad in a shirt of his (that he begrudgingly noticed went missing months ago) engulfing your figure.

Omi-nii’s shirts are way more comfier than mine, you would whine. He would roll his eyes and snap at you, usually, but would still let you take his shirts anyway. The perverted part of him secretly loves how his clothes fit you.

Sakusa doesn’t ask and figures that it’s best that he doesn’t. He sees the way you’re twiddling with the bottom of his shirt between shaky fingers. He could tell you that he was right all along, laugh in your face, anything to rub it in—instead, he pulls the covers aside and scoots over, creating an empty space for you, just for you.

“Come here,” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. You move instantly, your feet delicately pitter pattering against his hardwood floors. The mattress dips lightly as you climb into his bed. You pull his blanket up to your chin instantly and Sakusa grabs whatever he can get. “Go to sleep, (Y/N).” Without another word, he turns away from you and settles into his sleeping position on his side.

After a few moments of silence, you mumble something Sakusa can’t quite make out. And when he chooses not to respond, you say it again, “Can you hold me, Onii-san?” Then his body completely stiffens in response. He always said yes when you two were kids—hell, even when you were teenagers and it was definitely considered inappropriate by then. Would it be weird if he said no now?

But he sighs, knowing that he can't just say no. He turns around and drags himself closer to you, lifting his arm so that you can move underneath it and press yourself into the front of his body. His breath hitches as you do, an all too familiar heat igniting in his stomach as the curves of your body fit perfectly against him.

When he wraps his arm around you, he suddenly feels so complete and so awful, almost having to hold back on how tightly he wants to really hold you. This time he can inhale the scent of your hair—a mixture of whatever shampoo and conditioner you keep in your rotation and your favorite leave-in conditioner. The skin on your arms is soft from your lotion, your legs are smooth and buttery against him, and fuck are you so warm. He could absolutely eat you up right here if you’d let him. Maybe in your vulnerable state of mind…you wouldn’t say no.

Sauksa doesn’t know what demon has decided to possess him. He’s been thinking too much for the past few weeks for sure. A little earworm is corrupting him, whispering in his ear and daring him to do something and destroy you.

His hands are moving on their own. They slip underneath your shirt—hot fingertips caressing your skin so carelessly and trailing up and down your hips. He wants to laugh because you’re only wearing panties. How obvious can you get? If you were thinking about him the same way he thought about you, you could have just said something.

You tense up at his unexpected touch, but don’t move away from him—you don’t even say a word, not when his hand slides up to cup one of your tits to pull you closer to him, not when he decides to press his hard cock against your ass, not a single word.

Sakusa thinks he’s been too hard on himself recently, especially with how his feelings about you have changed so drastically. You’re not ready for him like that, that much is obvious with how much you’re shivering, but he deserves this after all the mental anguish you put him through because of how stupid you are.

First, you fuck his dumb teammate in the apartment that Sakusa pays for. And out of all the teammates, you choose the one who used to have piss blond hair back in high school and still slurs his words. Second, you have the audacity to touch him and kiss him and tease him, knowing that he can never have you the way that he wants. Third, you wake him up in the middle of the night to sleep in his bed in one of the shirts he’s been looking for for months and just your thin panties that leave so little to the imagination—

“Omi?” you quavered, knocking him out of his thoughts. Oh, he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing you or how rough his grip is on your perky tits. He also didn’t realize how he started grinding himself against your ass, wedging his covered cock between your covered asscheeks in an attempt to feel the warmth from your core. The guilt should have been settling in him again, yet to his surprise, he feels…nothing. All he wants is to hold you down against the bed and wreck your insides until you bleed and beg for him. 

“Omi-nii!” A panicked gasp escapes you and suddenly Sakusa is on top of you, holding you down by your wrists. You gaze up at him, lips parted in shock, eyes so wide, and the first thing that goes through his mind is beautiful. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, leaving you so shocked that your entire body freezes.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, and his words flip a switch in your brain. You’re already fighting against him, desperate to escape from his hold on your wrists and the sins he’s planting on your lips and for the first time in your life you’re actually scared of him. 

Sakusa grips your wrists even tighter and hisses as you squirm, “I said hold still.” 

Then you force yourself to relax with no choice but to let Sakusa explore your mouth. Your hesitation is obvious (of course, it is) and instead of pulling back and knocking sense into himself, he’s offended—out of all the guys you let violate your body, you won’t let your own brother do the same? 

He disconnects from you to grip both your wrists above your head, holding you down easily with one hand. Then his other hand quickly pushes the bottom of your shirt up to your stomach to display your bottom half and grabs the top of your panties. You’re horrified as Sakusa effortlessly rips your panties off of you and throws the shredded pieces off to the side, exposing you to the cold air and to your brother’s eyes. 

Your brother’s eyes. You can feel the bile coming up to your throat at the realization. Your brother is going to do something to you against your will and you can’t do anything to stop him because he’s bigger and stronger than you and you live alone together. As you make eye contact with him, it’s like you can’t even recognize him. You jerk your body away in a feeble attempt to free yourself, but it’s no use.

“Stop!” you cry, ashamed, scared, and so confused, “Nii-san, stop!” 

He splits your thighs apart with his own muscled thighs and you feel so weak trying to close them again, to hide that part of you that your big brother should never ever see. 

But to Sakusa, it’s a sight that he wishes he could see over and over again and he has no problem taking his chances if it means that he can have you—he’s already gone way too far, past the point of return, and he doesn’t want to care anymore about what consequences his actions might bring. A small smirk appears on his face as he looks down at you, so vulnerable and small underneath him. He doesn’t want to waste time—his boxers are already down his thighs and his cock is free. You’re looking down at his cock with pure fear on your face—fuck, he’s big, so big that you’re dumbfounded that he’s even real. But he’s also your brother. You literally grew up together and he still takes care of you and you see each other everyday.

You want to look away but you can’t. Although your vision is blurry due to your tears, you can still see him and only him. “This is why you asked to sleep with your nii-san tonight, right?” he breathes, looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes that you’ve never seen or noticed before. You’re shaking your head no. Never. You were just sad and needed your big brother to comfort you without asking any questions.

“Stop lying to me, (Y/N). You know what you’re doing,” he scoffs, “I’ll take care of you. Just like I always have.” Then, he grabs the back of your thigh with his free hand to hoist one of your knees up against your chest, exposing you even more than you already are. Before you can even process it, the head of his hard cock is pressing against your entrance so delicately and so carefully but it’s terrifying all the same.

A loud gasp escapes you and you attempt to yank yourself away from him again. Tears are fully streaming down your face now, dampening your hair and the sheets. Your chest is tightening— you’re so scared. You don’t even know what Sakusa is talking about so you're even more puzzled. As far as you know, you’ve been the same as you’ve always been. “Don’t d-do that,” you beg with a crack in your voice, “Omi-nii, please.”

But Sakusa is pleased to hear your broken voice—irritated that you don’t want him to continue, sure, but pleased nonetheless. He’s always wanted to see you like this underneath him and he finally has you. Your legs spread wide open for him to feast on is something that seemed so unobtainable yet you’re in his bed, exposed and ready.

Please.

He pushes through the tight rings of your pussy until he completely fills you up—the tip of his cock is fighting its way through plush walls to kiss your cervix and you swear that your world has shattered into a million tiny pieces. A sob breaks free from your throat.

The room is ice cold. There’s no more air in your lungs as you convulse around him. You can hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears but everything is so silent. Sakusa lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and suddenly everything is okay now—he knows that there was no demon possessing him to think about you in such a dirty way because it was really him all along. All his sick fantasies and insatiable desires, dreams of devouring you, and all those sleepless nights imagining what you would look like with his cock so deep inside you that you couldn’t breathe—it was just him, so painfully in love with you even if he can’t have you. And now he’s inside of you. He’s actually inside of you.

“Fuck,” he curses in a strained voice, “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.” It feels as if your mind and body are attempting to recover from the shock of Sakusa forcing himself inside your cunt but there’s no time for recovery at all—hell, you’re both surprised that he even managed to slide into you as easily as he did.

Then he starts moving, slow and steady to open you up more. The sting of him stretching you is enough to make you let out a few wails between quivering lips. You can physically feel your walls shudder around his length and your nerves are practically screaming, ringing your inner alarms, knowing that this is so fucking wrong.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you sob, attempting to jerk your wrists away from his one-handed grip. You’re not even sure when you became so weak, even with adrenaline coursing through your veins. And you’re even more shocked when he lets go of your wrists for a split second only to hold you by the throat firmly.

“You need to shut the fuck up sometimes,” Sakusa breathes with a hint of annoyance. Your shaky hands find their way to wrap around his wrist, nails clawing at his skin, hopelessly trying to loosen his grip. His cock is still moving dangerously inside you, filling you up and then leaving you empty with just his tip, only to fill you up again. The slow rhythm of his hips pressing against yours is tormenting—your skin is crawling with every moment that your hips meet and you wonder if he moved more then would time go by faster? 

Labored breaths and wheezes are the only sounds that you’re able to let out with Sakusa’s hand on your throat. There’s fatigue creeping in your bones yet you feel the energy in your veins and it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes sense and everything hurts and just—why?

“C-Can’t…breathe,” you manage to gasp out. As much as you want to stay awake, afraid of what your older brother might do to you if you pass out, you can see your vision starting to blur and your brain beginning to turn into mush. Your hands are loosening their grip around his arm that’s holding you captive. He’s squeezing your throat tighter and tighter.

You just needed someone—needed your onii-san to help you during this fucked up time between you and Atsumu. Usually he’d be on top of you like this, fucking you until you cry for him and cum all over his cock. You’d moan and drool and beg—anything for him to claim you over and over again. Instead of seeing stupid bleached hair and flirty eyes, you see black curls and dispassionate voids gazing at you as you’re about to pass out and it’s like he doesn’t even fucking care! You just wanted to feel better and to feel your onii-san’s comfort again and he decides to touch you and—

He presses his forehead against yours all of a sudden, and you can barely hear him when his lips start moving. “...What?” you choke out through wheezes. 

“If you want me to let go, you have to let me fuck you as hard as I want,” he repeats himself firmly. You don’t realize that he’s stopped moving inside you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. All you know is that you need to breathe and maybe that desperation is what makes you attempt to nod your head in agreement. A smirk appears on Sakusa’s face and before you can even register what's going on, he’s straightening up to thrust his cock even deeper into your core and he finally lets go of your throat. 

You’re coughing and sputtering, oddly embarrassed at how much saliva you’re spitting out, and you’re hyper aware that you have him inside you again, deep inside you and painfully stretching you to the point where you’re afraid that he’s going to rip you in half. Sakusa grabs the backs of your thighs and presses both your knees against your chest again, leaving his hands there to hold you down once more and to expose your pussy to the cold air. You feel the warmth spread across your cheeks from how embarrassing it is to be on full display and how repulsive it is that it’s Sakusa between your legs to ogle at you as much as he pleases. You wonder what changed between you two—has he always felt this way? It makes you sick to your stomach to imagine that your brother that you love so dearly and looked up to your whole life wants you and it’s diabolical how this is what he wants from you.

And when he starts thrusting harder than before, slamming his cock into you with such a force that your body lurches with his movements, your brain is back to turning into mush and a part of you wishes that you did pass out—at least you wouldn’t have to be conscious to feel everything. You can’t help but let out quiet whimpers and gasps that don’t even sound like you. It hurts—the stretch of his thick cock is so unbearable and his hands on your thighs are sure to leave ugly bruises. 

“You feel so good,” he almost laughs, like he can’t believe this is happening. You are as soft as he imagined, maybe even more, and how easily your pussy starts creaming around him makes his heart skip a beat. When he presses his forehead against yours again, you want to recoil even though you physically can’t. You don’t want to look him in the eyes yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. You don’t even know if you can hate him after this and Sakusa knows that—how you love him so much, even if it’s not the way that he wants you to—

—because you need him. 

It’s nauseating how much you still need him. It’s horrifying how your legs are beginning to shake from how deep he is and how he’s shoving himself against your cervix unkindly. Most of all, it’s disgusting how you can feel—even hear—the puddle pooling from your cunt, forcing you to stretch to accommodate his size—and maybe in the midst of your hysterical state, maybe Sakusa feels good, too.

You can’t admit that—you definitely don’t want to—but for fuck’s sake, you know what your body likes and although it’s Sakusa punishing you in the worst way possible, you recognize that tightness in your stomach—the corrupt feeling that makes you scream and cry and beg, that makes your body writhe in desperation to have more. Fuck, it’s morally wrong but at the same time, your body loves to feel full and stretched to its limits. You’re so sad that Atsumu “broke up” with you (you weren’t really dating in the first place) because Atsumu knew your body so well and his dick was huge. You really shouldn’t be comparing since the thought is so sickening, yet the way Sakusa is splitting you open is different—so different from Atsumu with no gentleness, no delicacy, just pure lust and a desire to fuck you until you faint and it’s…better. It shouldn’t be better, shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but it's better.

When the realization hits you, the shame and embarrassment floods your stomach, too—how could you let your own brother fuck you like this and how could you enjoy it? And now you’re angry at yourself, for how Sakusa is making you feel, how your body is reacting, how raw and wet your pussy, how Atsumu blindsided you, how this whole situation is so fucking unfair.

“Omi-nii,” you whine with a dry throat, reaching up to grab his thick biceps, all tensed up and veiny from gripping your thighs and turning them purple. His muscles are so well-defined that you almost forget that he’s your brother and start melting into his skin. The base of his cock is hitting your clit every time your hips meet, sending shocks of pleasure all throughout your core. The walls of your cunt are convulsing around him. It shouldn’t feel good, it really shouldn’t, but the burning sensation on your thighs from having your knees pressed against your chest to expose your cunt and Sakusa carving the shape of his cock into your pussy is the best fucking thing you’ve ever felt in all your years of living. As guilty as you feel for wanting more, you start to beg for him, “Please make me cum, Omi-nii.”

A smug smile plays on his lips. Your pussy is dripping everywhere, making wet noises every time Sakusa moves, and he thinks he’s finally satisfied. Not completely though, because he wants you to squirt on his cock and he wants you to squirt on his cock every night from now on. He deserves it, deserves this, deserves to be the one inside of you and claiming you and pumping you full of cum.

He leans down and captures your lips with his once again, and this time you let him slip his tongue against yours in a messy passionate kiss. When he lets go of one of your thighs to rub at your clit with his thumb and your body tenses up harshly as a result, he sneers at you, “Cum all over my cock, you bitch.” 

Then your cunt tightens around him and you hate that he’s being so mean to you but you cry and scream and dig your nails into his muscles like you’ve never came before because you like how mean he is and the only thing you can pathetically moan is Onii-san~!

He doesn’t stop when you cum, chasing his own high to drown your pussy in his sticky seed and hopefully force another climax out of your body to feed his ego, so he wraps his hands around your throat again while you’re delirious and kisses you again and again. “You can fuck whoever you want,” he mutters against your plump lips, “Think that you know what love is when you have some other loser inside you—” 

 “—but this stupid cunt is all mine.”

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[dilfscvm]

Fitzgerald Grant x Female! Reader

Hi! This is my own work, I wrote it and I much don't like to have it posted in other social media flatforms without my permission.

WARNINGS : This contains smut, if you don't like such content please skip it and don't read it. Vulgar words has been used also. Do excuse my grammatical errors and typos, correct me nicely or else I'll block block you. English is not my first language:)) Enjoy reading!<33

Special thanks to the owner of this gif<3

“I told you to stay away from him!” Fitz yells at you, he's in the pit of rage and you know you just crossed the line.

Making him jealous because you wanted to make him pay at what he did to you a week ago. He thought you got over it, but looks like his naughty wife has a better plan. And that is to make him angry. What's on his mind right now?

I'll get you bend over this dining table, fuck you and breed you.

That's what his brain tells him to do. You're his property, you're his and he doesn't like to share. And you absolutely knew it. That's why you make everything on planned.

"I'm sorry, but you really need to stop working." Fitz firmly stated, you're shocked at his sudden statement.

"W-what?" you scoffed.

"I said... I want you to stop working." he repeats as he slowly strode over you, like a lion ready to attack its prey. His eyes tells he craves. You stumped in front of him, face to face, nose almost touched. Eyes raged.

"I. Won't. Stop. Working." you said what is to be said, "I love my work, Fitz, I love working as a professor and you know how much I love my work and you can't just barge here in my office to tell me to resign and stay with you at the white house and fulfill my duty as a first lady. How did you get in here anyways?"

"You don't need to know how I get here, what you need to do is to get all your things and sign these resignation papers and let's go at the white House." his frown deepen, but you can see his eyes averting from your eyes to your lips, his breathing getting heavy as you argue with him.

"I won't resign just because you're jealous of my colleague who haven't done anything but to do his job." you continued. He scoff, he backs away a little shaking his head.

"Believe me, you will." and that's the last thing he said before he walks out your office. You stared at the door where he just walked out of, jaw drop, can't believe that your husband can do such things.

Well he's the president of the United States after all.

You're at his birthday party, talking with some guests. Not paying attention at your husband who's been such a attention seeker for you.

Since he made you sign those resignation letter you give him silent treatment that he deserves. He can't just manipulate you just because he's jealous.

“Dance with me?” you heard a voice from your back making you turn around. It's your colleague, the man Fitz don't ever want to see.

“Well why not.” you giggle and took his hand that been waiting for you to take.

You wanted him here. His name is Race, and he's a colleague, a married man but it's a private marriage. Fitz were a fool, he doesn't even let you explain it, and now, you will take advantage of it.

Race lead you to the dance floor where there's already some people who's dancing, including your husband who's with a old lady which you can recognise as the 40th president's wife.

Well watch me turn the tables around, darling.

“So, I bet he still doesn't know.” he smiled at you which you returned with a naughty smirk.

“This is a lesson, he has been fooling himself. You know that I would never cheat on him, I love him too much to break his heart.” you factly stated. He sighs as he slowly sway you, syncing with the music.

“I know that you cheeky minx.” he whisper that makes you both laugh together.

Both of you continued to dance and talk about random things up until Fitz finally notice, well actually you've seen him, he got his eyes on you. Watching you dance with the man he despise right now, and all he wanted to do were to yank you off him and take you right in front of everybody, specially him. You're playing with fire.

“Ma'am if you'll excuse me.” he politely smiles at the woman who nods with a smile. As soon as he turns around, his face contorts into a deep frown, raging eyes glued at you.

He walks with power, greeting every person he walk pass with a smile then immediately turns back into a frown as soon as he looks at you.

“I think that would be great, I like it and I know-”

“Mind if I steal my wife for a while?” firm, and low husky voice. Fitz says as he folds his arms across his chest. His face shows it all. Anger, rage, jealousy... Lust.

Well you were about to say that you like race's idea to surprise his wife for her birthday.

“Why sure, Mr. President.” race politely agrees as he smiled at the man, not paying attention to fitz's face, looking like he's ready to punch him.

Fitz did not waste anymore time as he possessively pull you away from him by your waist. He then pressed his lips on yours, taking you by surprise. Race sealed his lips containing his evil grin. Success.

You on the other hand, didn't give what Fitz wants. You did not kiss him back making him pull inches away from your lips.

“You like him don't you?” Fitz slowly said. You stared at him, slowly, a smile formed in your lips, mocking him. You know it makes him more hungry for you, and you like every bit of it.

Knowing your husband, he loves you so much, he's a very territorial, possessive, and obsessive at you. Well because you're his wife, and he needs you to know it.

“I love you.” you smiled at him. He'll say it back. No matter how he's mad at you. You know he will.

“I...love you too.” he whisper, as he look down on your lips, almost looks ashamed. I know you too well.

“Dining room.” you whisper at him before pulling away to walk out of the room.

“What?” he asks confusedly. His brows knitted, his signature look. You smiled evily, seductively bit your lower lip as you said;

“I know you like it anywhere, baby.”

Fitz is a kinky man, you must declare.

A knowing smirk were now plastered on his face making you giggle.

“Meet you there, baby!” you turned around and walk off.

Did he waste more time? Of course he didn't. He quickly walk off the room full of guest and walk towards dining room, where you waited there. Wearing nothing but a pair of black lingerie and a black stocking.

“Y/N-” his breath caught above his lungs as the view in front of him completely astonished him. “What's all of these?” he asks, as his eyes continue to hungrily Starr at your body up and down.

You hop ontop of the table and crossed your legs. He slowly walk towards you.

“A lesson.” you simply said when he's already standing right in front of you and tries to open your legs.

“A lesson for what?” he looks confused. You smirk and parted your legs, you hooked him with your legs on his hips and forcely pull him using it.

You put a finger on his lips and it just parted for you, “You know what you've done, Fitz, and now I'll teach you.. A.. Lesson.” you lean closer to him, he thought you will kiss him, so he lean forward to reach your lips but you pull back. “Ah, ah, darling... You need to be taught and punished—”

“Screw you.” that's all he got to say before he slam his lips on you, you tried to pull away but you're too intoxicated at his taste and scent. He kissed you hungrily, both hands on either side of your cheeks. Both with heavy breathings, both were panting, and moaning in each others mouths, as their tounge collide, exploring the insides of it adding more heat down your womanhood.

Fitz grab ahold of your stockings and rip it apart making you gasp into his mouth. But keep on kissing him still anyways. He pushed your legs more apart and start to kiss your neck. His hands were now roaming you body, specially down your area.

“F-fuck, Fitz.” you moaned as his kiss went down your cleavage, to your stomach up until he reached where you wanted him to be. He place a kiss on your lingerie, as his eyes stilled on yours.

“You can't punish me. I will punish you... For being such a brat, for ignoring me, for teasing me, you think you'll get away with it? Think again...” he snarled. You scoff at him. He just smirked. That devil smirk he always does when you both on bed. It turns you on.

“Fuck you.” you smile and press your lips on his kissing him ever so roughly as your hand went to his belt and undo it. He slapped your hand away and grab a hold of your ass and yank you off the table and put you on your feet as he turn you around, panting as he retrieve his breath, as well as you. He continue to kiss on your neck as he unbuckle his belt and push his pants down.

“Fuck you, you mean.” he chuckles, he ripped your panties and thrown it on the floor leaving you gasping. There's nothing can make you more turned on than you are now.

He latched his lips again on your neck as you grab ahold of his head pushing him more to it, moaning as you did. Fitz let his mouth open while he teased your hole with the tip of his enormous cock. Confusedly you is when he put his hand tightly on your mouth, but it didn't take long when he rams his cock inside of you with a guttural groan, trying to contain his own sounds.

You swear if he hadn't covered your mouth, you would scream. You never got used to his cock, up until now.

“I will never get tired fucking this sweet, tight pussy of yours, Y/N.” he whisper erotically in your ear, while you left there moaning in his palm, grinding your hips with his as he thrust slow but you can feel the roughness.

“Now tell me, my sweet, does teasing me satisfy you?” he asks as he slowly fastening his thrust, breathing were getting more heavier. You shook your head. “Liar.” he grunts, he let's go of your lips and push you down the table, making you lay your front to it as he grab onto your hips and continue his bruising pace. He pause a little when you began to moan, as much as he wanted to hear it, you must minimise your moans so no guest will get traumatised, “Please do be quiet for me, sweetheart, there's people outside. I don't want them knowing I'm screwing my bratty wife while I have party to be at. Wouldn't want to look disrespectful yeah?” he whispers at your ears. You only nodded, panting. “Good.” he smirk before he bit your ear gently. He then suddenly pushed in roughly making you squeal and him shushing you.

Fitz won't let you dominate him, we'll at least not now. He doesn't have much time for you to tease and edge him. But he will let you do that later, when no one's in the house.

He spread your ass to watch his harden cock penetrate your wet cunt, he couldn't help but whimper looking at the beautiful view. He sure is won't ever get enough of you.

No one can ever make his cock this alive, only you, his wife. You always turn him on even in small things you do. Like the way you walk, you talk, your smell, he gets turned on easily, if it's you who'll make him.

“Fuck, Fitz, I'm close.” you quietly moan, Fitz was too lost in pleasure. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pull you against his chest as he thrust up to help you cum for him. He's nearing, as much as he doesn't want this to end, he has visitors to entertain.

“Darling, I'm gonna cum.” he whisper against your skin. His eyes closed, mouth open, eyebrows were knitted, pleasure takes over him. “I know you want to cum too. Cum hof me.” he place a kiss on your neck.

“Fitz..” you moan, almost out of breath. His hand went to your breast and squeeze it tightly as he left his other arm wrapped around your waist. “Ah! Fuck!” your walls clamped around his cock that enough to edge him, and leave him moaning as you cum.

“Oh God, you feel so good.” he groans through gritted teeth. He continues to thrust in you as he breed you, filling you with his cum—wait he breeds you?!

“Fitz!” you yell at him. He frowned at you.

“W-what?” he says panting.

“You finished in me!”

Not to be rude but you both talked about having another baby and he said it's not the right time yet to have another one, and you agreed with it.

“So?” he asks confusedly. He's still inside of you, still thrusting very slowly as he just reached his climax. “You're my wife, I have the rights to do so.” he said, he slowly pulls away making you bite your lip. You turn around to face him.

“Yeah, but I thought you don't want another baby yet?” you ask, he sighs and pull you closer to him as he wrap his arms around your hips.

“Jerry's not a baby anymore, he's four—well he'll still remain our baby but I miss having a small human in my arms,” he chuckles. He place a hand on your cheek, a finger in your lips and continues; “I want to have another baby, I know that you also want another but I choosed to deny you. I'm sorry.” he whisper, your eyes were glistening as he rub your cheeks.

“Thank you, and I love you.” you smiled at him, which he returns.

“I love you too.” he says back with a chuckle. You giggle and tiptoed his lips. Kissing him deeply and passionately.

It didn't last long when he lift you up again and sat you on the table before he push you on your back. He pulls away with a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fitz!” you giggle when he pulls a chair and sat on it before he pulls you by your tighs to the edge of the table. He smirk at you making you part your lips.

“What? I'm hungry.” he teasingly said before burying his head between your tighs leaving you breathless as you throw your head at the back, moaning as you did.

#fitzgerald grant #scandal #olivia pope #imagines #oneshot #y/n #wattpad #romance #tony goldwyn #actors #readersgonnaread

[matrixbearer2024]

hello! i’m the anonymous that mentioned the thirst tweets 😭 i saw that you asked for people to send you ideas so i wrote some definitely did not watch several videos of celebs reacting to their thirst tweets i wrote a couple with a specific character but i figured id let you choose the character for the tweet :)

imagine getting paid to kiss vox, i’d do that shit for free

the sluttiest thing men can do is be ___

i’d let lucifer in his demon form break my back like a glowstick ANYDAY

vox with is sleeves rolled up vox with his sleeves rolled up vox with his sleeves rolled up vox with is sleeves rolled up vox with his sleeves rolled up vox with his sleeves rolled up vox is like 99% sure y/n wrote this one

my body is a temple and i want ___ to bust the walls

i desperately need ___ to smash my skull between their thighs

___ just popped up on my screen and it took all my self discipline to not kick the screen

just watched hazbin hotel.. i have inappropriate things to say about ___

i would let ___ rearrange my guts in alphabetical order any day

___ ass is a gift from god himself 🙏

i want lucifer to hit my g spot so hard that my moans are louder than his high note in “more than anything”

please don’t mind if there are any typos you obviously don’t have to use all of these but i’d thought i’d give you some different options ❤️ also LOVE YOUR WORK YOURE AMAZING

A/N: This is a bit of a long one compared to the others- Also, thanks for giving me choices but I'm definitely using a lot of them HAHAHAHA

Actor AU: Thirst Tweet Edition

(Y/N): *Is handed a glass bowl filled with paper strips* "Oh that's a bowl- seriously?? How many of these are there?"

*The producers off screen say something*

Lucifer: "A couple?? Woaaah-"

Vox: "Oh damn, I can't wait to see what the internet thinks of us."

Alastor: "Are any of these going to be censored?"

*The producers off screen say something again*

Alastor: "None?? WELL THEN-"

(Y/N): "This person says: 'Imagine getting paid to kiss Vox, I'd do that shit for free!'"

Vox: *Trying not to laugh* "Imagine trying to kiss an overheating computer monitor, that's how it feels like dear fans."

(Y/N): "I mean, when we film it's not that bad but hey- to each their own."

Lucifer: "Wait wait look at this: 'The sluttiest thing a man can do is obsess over their rival who went missing for seven years'. Oh this is a callout that's what that is-"

Vox: *Can't even respond coherently he just falls into a fit of laughter*

Alastor: "And they say my character is the creepy one! Seriously?!"

Adam: "You both play creepy characters- anyway, this one says: 'I'd let Lucifer in his demon form break my back like a glow stick any day.' YO THAT WAS A HARD FUCKING LEFT LET'S BE REAL FOR A MINUTE-"

Vox: *Folded over and just laughing uncontrollably*

Alastor: *About to start laughing as well but trying not to and pointing to Vox* "I'm gonna start laughing if this idiot doesn't stop I swear to god-"

Lucifer: "That escalated really quickly oh WOW-"

(Y/N): "VOX- STOP LAUGHING-"

Adam: "Dude we literally JUST started!"

Alastor: *Trying to distract himself and not become a laughing mess* "This one is just a copypaste of: 'Vox with his sleeves rolled up'. (Y/N) are you sure you didn't write this?"

(Y/N): "HUUUUH??? WHY DO YOU THINK IT'S ME??"

Alastor: "Because it's you???"

Vox: *That does not help him stop laughing*

Lute: "Okay- my turn! This one says: 'My body is a temple and I need Alastor to bust down the walls'. People are really down bad for a radio deer and a bipedal TV-"

(Y/N): "THAT SHIT IS ACCURATE! LIKE REALLY ACCURATE!"

Vox: *He's clutching his side because it's sore from him laughing too much* "Okay okay! Let me try! I wanna see what the people say! Oh goodness this one: 'I desperately need Lute to smash my head between their thighs'. Excuse me but BITCH WHAT THIGHS?"

Lute: *Playfully and repeatedly smacks Vox*

Adam: "He's not wrong though! These people are craaaazy-" *Laughs as Lute smacks him too*

(Y/N): "Yooo! there's one about me! '(Y/N) just popped up on my screen and it took all my self-discipline to not kick the screen'. I can't tell if that's good or bad-"

Vox: *WhEeEzE*

Lucifer: "Depending on who you ask it could either be aggressive affection or people just don't like your character much."

Alastor: "Which is hilariously odd because people really like mine??? What goes on in the heads of our fans??"

(Y/N): "Bleh- oh wait look at this one: 'Just watched Hazbin hotel, I have inappropriate things to say about Saint Peter'. SERIOUSLY???"

Lucifer: "Oh my god people's corruption kinks-"

Alastor: "That's craaaazy-"

Adam: "I can't wait to tell him about this!" *Laughs*

Lute: "Give me another one! Hmm- 'I would let Alastor rearrange my guts in alphabetical order any day'. Canonically he could- you would just die afterwards-"

Alastor: "Yeah I don't think my character would be entirely opposed to that. In the innuendo sense though? Oh boy."

(Y/N): "Yooo this one! 'Adam's ass is a gift from god himself' praying hands emoji- CANON LORE MOMENT?"

Adam: "IT'S CANON! IT'S SO CANON-"

Lute: *Laughing like crazy*

Vox: "Oh this one isn't any better- 'I want Lucifer to hit my g-spot so hard that my moans are louder than his high note in: "More Than Anything"'. Well, we stan a short king."

Lucifer: "That has got to be the most creative thing that's come out of that depraved batch of comments so FAR."

Alastor: "Wait wait- there's a last one. It says: 'I need to kiss Vox until he can't breathe'. Okay (Y/N) you're up-"

(Y/N): "OH FUCK OFF AL-" *Laughs*

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #get off my screen series #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #actor au

[slutforitoshi]

sae itoshi - ring *:･ﾟ✧

ft. sae x f!reader, 18+ minors dni 

cw: cheating/infidelity, fingering, unprotected sex, sae is mean, you will feel bad for rin but horny for sae

synopsis: you finally meet your future brother-in-law, and he is more than pleased to see you

wc: 2.04k

A/N: i wrote this right before my physio midterm hopefully there’s no typos oops 

“sae that’s amazing!” his mother exclaimed in response to his news of him moving back to japan. a family dinner was called with some promise of a big announcement and this must have been it. you guessed sae wanted to tell his family before the media announced his relocation.

“what happened to mr. ‘I’m too good for japan,’” rin, your fiancee, sneered albeit jokingly. although you weren’t technically part of the family (yet), the itoshis insisted on having you over. this was the first time you’ve seen sae though. he was always abroad.

“well someone’s gotta humble you here,” sae rolled his eyes, reflecting the same energy back to his brother. you could see the resemblance. teal eyes, fair skin. all similar right down to their serious, deadpanned demeanor. the biggest difference was his hair, a light maroon color, swept up to reveal his forehead. you wondered if rin would ever style his similarly if you asked him…shit. he caught you looking for a little too long.

and he smirks. the heat rising to your cheeks does not make it any better and you quickly look away fiegning innocence. you try to make up excuses in your head, moreso to convince yourself than anyone else though. yeah, you were just looking because this was the first time you met him. it’s normal to be curious about someone new.

rin’s hands stir you from your thoughts, now settled on your own. the glimmering ring on your left hand, that you were prideful of, suddenly burned on your finger. like it was punishing you for your thoughts just minutes ago. 

“so how long you guys been together?” sae asks pointedly at rin, although his eyes were fixed on you. you couldn’t look back directly, out of fear of the blush that might rise again.

“3 years? we’ve been engaged for about half a year though.”

“she’s pretty, i’d always known you had a good eye”, sae responds, still staring. it felt like a hole was being bored into your skull. and there was the blush you tried so hard to repress. he thinks you’re pretty. you suddenly felt like a schoolgirl, hearing that her crush might like her, too.

the conversation shifts away from you thankfully, giving you a second to finally breathe. calm down. that is his brother. you should not be feeling like this. your eyes betray you though, sneaking glances at sae. what was it about him that captivated you so much? 

“hey, are you ok?” rin’s question jolts you back again, him noticing you haven’t really been present in current conversation. your surprise causes you to drop your spoonful of soup…right into your lap. 

“oh my gosh,” you stumble over your words, embarrassed. 

“it’s alright, do you want me to lend you a pair of pants?” his mom asks, so unaware of the sinful thoughts that were circling your head about her son (and not the one you’re engaged to).

“it’s okay!” you interject, “it’s only a small stain. it should come off with a bit of scrubbing”

you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to clean up the mess. both on your pants and in your mind.

the faucet running quickly washes the stain and the thoughts away. you look down at your ring again. it’s beautiful, like your relationship. too beautiful to throw away over some silly thoughts. reassuring yourself, you focus back onto the spilled soup.

you hear the bathroom door handle turn, and you continue to scrub at the stain without looking up, assuming it’s just rin checking on you.

“hey,” a voice says. it’s not rin. his voice was more sultry, mature. 

you look up and all the thoughts you’d work so hard to scrub away are crawling back. 

“um hi…i was just about to go back out so you don’t have to-” your meek voice is cut off.

“does rin satisfy you?” he says bluntly. wow, right to the point huh.

“why is that any of your business?” you try to sound strong, but shift your gaze to the ground, scared that your composure might crumble if you look into those teal eyes.

“that’s not what it looks like to me,” sae says simply, stepping closer to you. your eyes stay fixed on the ground.

“you were practically begging me to fuck you through your pretty lashes. rin’s not the only one who has a good eye. who do you think trained him to read intentions?” he continues, seeing right through you. 

“look, it doesn’t matter what I think. rin and I are engaged. i’m not throwing all that away for some stupid thoughts.” you stood firm, but the ring began to burn on your finger again. 

“who said you had to throw it away? as long as you know how to keep secrets that is” he’s even closer to you now. one more step and he’d be able to touch you, and why did you not hate that?

you pursed your lips, unable to deny your attraction now. the ring was scalding against you, and a pit in your stomach began to grow. he took yet another step closer and now you can smell him. cologne. a deep scent, not too musky though…just how you liked it. your resolve was tearing at the seams.

“you better make your decision soon. not much longer until rin gets suspicious” sae half-cages you in, putting one arm past your waist to lean against the bathroom counter. you could easily go around the other side to exit, but as his cologne invades your surroundings, your thoughts surround you. and you lean in.

his hands move quickly to your sides, holding you tight now that you’ve made your decision. his strong arms hoist you up onto the counter where his hand once rested. 

his lips were soft, but he kissed with such aggression which you happily reciprocated. your movements were driven by pure lust. desperation. when was the last time you felt like this? rin was a gentle lover most of the time, unless you pleaded with him to be a little rough. 

“you better not be thinking of him right now. focus on me,” sae spat, as if reading your mind once again. 

your pants were quickly pulled off, now damp in two places. his right hand was immediately in between, pulling the thin cloth to the side.

“you’re soaked,” he exasperates, and it was the first hint of a smile you’d seen all night. his lips were on you again, although you found it increasingly difficult to kiss back. not when his fingers were circling your clit at a fervent speed. then, they entered, earning a gasp from you.

“s-so full” you stutter at the sudden entry. 

“you’re so fucking tight. How are you going to take my cock,” he mutters, mostly to himself. you could only respond in moans, not even caring if they could reach the dining table where the rest of the family sat. sae seemed to care though, clamping his free hand over your mouth so that only muted vibrations could escape. 

two fingers became three, and you welcomed the stretch. sae had clearly done this before, being able to curl them to hit just the right gummy spot that took rin months to even find. 

you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. if he continued, you would surely reach your first orgasm of the night. he doesn’t give you that luxury though. you’re on a time crunch, remember?

he takes his palm off your mouth, and reaches down to fumble his belt buckle open. and then you’re met with his cock. you could understand why he was concerned about you being able to take it now. 

you let out a small whine as his fingers left you, but it was quickly replaced with his thick girth. at least he was gentle with the entry. but he barely gives you a second to take it in before he started moving. 

his hands now gripped your waist tightly on both sides, fucking you with such conviction. you felt like your were being used, and you relished in it. 

“fuck. it’s not fair; rin keeping this perfect fuck toy to himself,” he muttered to himself again. he wasn’t as vocal as rin you noted, limiting himself to the occasional grunt or deep, breathy moan. 

“s-sae”, it was difficult to get much words out.

“slow down you’re going to break me,” you utter, even though you knew he had no intention of doing so. 

“break then. let everyone know what a fucking slut you are throwing yourself onto your fiancee’s brother,” he challenges you. his cruel words sent a chill down your spine, right into the heat where he currently thrusted in and out of.

the sounds of his rough pounding filled the room, complimented by your higher pitched moans. his right hand moved from your waist and placed itself at your clit, rubbing fast circles, earning even louder sounds from you. 

“do I need to shut you up again,” he growled, but not stopping his ministrations. his thrusts became sporadic and irregular, a sign you knew as being close. you started clamping harder onto his cock, attempting to milk out every last drop.

“f-fuck, don’t stop doing that,” he recognizes your attempts, and any guilt that he could have about betraying his brother left his mind (not that he had much in the first place). 

he quickly pulls out, spilling his seed all over your thighs and stomach. after catching his breath, he stands back and gives you another smirk, rather proud of the mess he made you into. as if on cue, your session is cut by a familiar voice.

“you good in there?” rin calls from outside. your eyes widen, panicked. 

“i’m fine! just uh fixing up some makeup!” you called back, coming up with an excuse. you quickly take toilet paper, wiping up your body, frantically hiding any evidence. looking around, your eyes settle onto the bathtub.

“hide in there quick!” you whisper-shout, practically pushing sae behind the curtains. 

you pull up your discarded pants, trying to ignore the pool that was still in between your legs you forgot to wipe up. you manage to button them right before rin turns the handle.

“what took you so long?” he comes up behind you, pressing a kiss onto your temple. you give a meek smile in return, hoping he couldn’t hear your hammering heart.

“oh the stain was harder to get out than I thought, and I wanted to touch up my makeup since it smeared a little” you lied. 

“really? I didn’t notice.” he guides you out of the bathroom, and you let out a breath of relief thankful that he didn’t suspect anything. 

“oh by the way have you seen sae? he said he was going to bring you some stain remover he had on him,” rin asks, and your breath hitches.

“o-oh yeah he stopped by. i got the stain out mostly by then so I told him I didn’t need it,” you hoped that sounded natural enough, “maybe he’s taking a call or something,” adding an alibi.

“yeah he must be busy with the new move,” rin concluded. 

“let’s head back soon I’m a little tired”, you suggested, knowing dinner was about over anyways. it technically wasn’t a lie, you were tired (from being fucked like a whore). 

“good thinking, the drive’s a bit long anyways.” he clasps his right hand around your left, and your attention is brought back to the ring which started to grow uncomfortably warm against your finger again.

~~~

“you coming to bed?” rin asks, already brushed up and ready for sleep. 

“yeah just wanted to hang up some clothes”, you call back from the closet. as you put the hanger around the coat you wore for the night, you noticed a corner poke out of its pocket. you pulled the sheet out.

we’re not finished yet, i still need to make you cum XXX-XXX-XXXX

you rip up the paper until the text was no longer legible, discarding it in the nearest trashbin. 

but not before the digits were seared into your head, just like the ring that has been searing your finger all night.

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk smut #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae smut #sae #sae smut #rin #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #sae itoshi smut #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader

[luciaramosc]

⁎⁺˳✧༚ enchanted

pairing: carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x afab!reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing, insinuated bath time, nothing graphic

word count: 1.8k words

an: i wrote this in the trenches (waiting to be seen at urgent care) so please excuse any typos 🙈 currently gnawing at the bars of my enclosure because i’ve been sick all week, but the delulu is as strong as ever!

Carmen’s head hung low in his hands, his elbows resting on the battered desk as the knot in his shoulders weighed against him. His mind itched to grab the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but the exhaustion seeped through his veins too heavily to even bother. His ears were entranced by the rhythmic tick…tick…tick… of the clock above the office door, but the new-found quiet had been welcomed after a day of yelling and dishing. He moved his head to rest on his palm, and his tranquil eyes struggled to flutter open. With his other hand, he began to scribble nonsense for orders that he hoped he could translate tomorrow morning, but he knew his attempts were becoming futile when he wrote “10 pd skt stk,” meaning to write “10 pounds skirt steak.”

In the midst of his battle with sleep deprivation, Carmen hadn’t even noticed the string of texts you sent his way. It was nearing 12:30am, and you had just left the bar you worked at when you pulled your phone out and invited him to your apartment for the night.

Carmy :)

12:27

Hey bub! I just got off of work and I’m heading home

Sleepover? My bed’s cold without you :(

12:31

I have a bottle of your favorite wine if that convinces you ;)

12:38

Carmyyy

Are you still at The Bear?

Okay I’m calling you

Carmen’s head slipped off his palm and lulled him awake, and his bleary eyes fought against the bright light of his desk lamp. He heard the constant buzzing of his phone, and surmised that it had to have been you calling him. His decorated hands rubbed his eyes before he shuffled papers and folders around to find his cell, but to no avail. As he heard the buzz come to an end, he huffed out a breath, and he ceased his search. Instantly, however, his phone began to shake again, and a smile graced his face at the thought of his girl missing him that much. After pushing a few more unnecessary items off the desk, he found his found phone with a picture of you illuminating his screen. He swiped his thumb to answer the call, and he pushed his phone to his ear, desperate to hear your voice.

“Baby? You okay?” you asked once Carmen picked up. Delighted, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Hey princess, I’m alright. Just got caught up with papers and shit,” he rasped out, sleepiness laced in his voice. “I’m wrapping up here though. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight,” you hummed into the line. “We haven’t seen each other much this week, and I know for a fact you haven’t slept well.” You giggled softly as she uttered the truth.

Carmen cracked a chuckle at her words, knowing that she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, sweetheart, no need to rub it in,” he muttered in a half-dazed state. “But yeah, gimme like,” he peered down at his watch, reading 12:40, “20 minutes and I’ll be there. Is that okay, honey?”

You opened the door of your apartment, closing it behind you before locking it as you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Yeah, absolutely,” you told him as you set your bag down. “I can pop some cookies in the oven in the meantime? Unless that’s out of your league, chef,” you teased him. He could hear the smirk in your tone as you joked about the cookies.

“Haha, very funny, baby. Gonna hit me with anything else?” he asked her.

“Not right now, no,” a smile cracked at her lips. “It’s not my fault you decided to date a comedian. ‘Can’t take the flame, don’t get in the kitchen,’ or whatever nonsense you guys say.”

“Alright, not too much,” he chuckled out, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “I’ll see you in a few, alright sweetheart?”

She bit her lip in thought before closing out the call. “See you in a few. I love you, Carmy.”

“I love you more,” Carmen said before hanging up the call. He put his phone into his pocket before running a calloused hand through his curls. His drowsy eyes scanned the room briefly, wondering where to start, before picking up the mistrewn papers and folders off the office floor. He set them in a neat (ish) pile on the desk before standing up from the rickety chair. He stepped out of the office, taking one more peek of the kitchen and dining room to ensure they looked the same as they were when The Bear closed (They were, Carmen’s just paranoid). Not soon enough, Carmen punched his work card for the night and took the keys out from his pocket, turning them in the door and locking up for the night.

As Carmen made his way back to his place to get an overnight bag, you had occupied yourself with prepping for your boyfriend’s stay. You dressed up your apartment with candles, put your speaker to play smooth jazz, and set up your bathroom with elements for a well-deserved bath for both you and Carmen. You knew that things with the Bear had been picking up for him, and while you could not have been happier for him, you knew that it took a toll on his well-being, so you were thrilled that he agreed to spend the night and relax for a moment.

Within a few minutes, the oven chimed and you got to taking the cookies out the oven, the rich smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the apartment. You put on some oven mitts and right as you slid the hot trays onto the counter, the doorbell rang, letting you know that Carmen had made it safely to your door. “Just a second!” You called out, taking the gloves off and letting your hair out of its updo. You sauntered over to the door, and you’re met with Carmy holding a bouquet in his hands, the arranged pinks and oranges capturing your attention. “Hey sweetheart, sorry for the late hour,” he uttered, motioning the arrangements towards you. “I brought these ‘cause they reminded me of you,” he admitted with a lovesick grin on his lips as you grabbed the bouquet.

You peered down at the flowers in your hands before looking up at him, staring into his soft eyes, evidence of exhaustion painting his features. “Carmy, you shouldn’t have,” a soft pout puckered at your lips, tears swelling in your waterline. “This is so sweet, thank you bub.” You smiled up at him before pulling him inside, saving him from the coolness of the night. You closed the door behind him as he pulled your frame towards him, one hand resting on the plush of your hip as he pressed a sweet peck on your lips. “Carmy, it’s 1am, where the hell did you get these from?” you giggled out, confused, though appreciative of his gift.

“I meant to stop by earlier during my lunch break to drop them off,” he began, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly, “but shit hit the fan, and I got caught at work.”

“Well, I love them either way. Thank you, bub,” you assured him with a smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Let me take your bag to my room. Eat a cookie or two, please. I know you’ve barely eaten today, chef,” she playfully demanded. You grabbed the duffel from his hands before heading towards your bedroom, delicately leaving the bouquet on the kitchen table to set up later.

You dropped the duffel bag off at the foot of your shared bed before joining him in the kitchen, watching Carmen take down two cookies in three bites. “Good for supermarket cookies, huh?” you teased him, poking his bicep. He shook his head playfully before looking at you, adoration pooling in his eyes with a smile to match. “Good for supermarket cookie,” he repeated. You grabbed one of the cookies off the tray, still slightly warm, and took a bite, savoring the taste after a long night at work. You made yourself a mental note to buy more of these christmas tree cookies before the holidays ended.

After finishing your last bite, you made your way to the sink, grabbing a vase and filling it with water for your flowers. You grabbed the bouquet off the table and began to cut the ends at an angle, taking in the scent of the tulips Carmen brought you. As you were getting lost in a rhythm, Carmen came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame and resting his head on your shoulder. He pressed soft kisses down your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, effectively distracting you from your work. “You could be a florist, ya know. You’ve got gentle hands and a good eye for stuff like this,” his accent hummed out in your ear.

It was your turn to softly chuckle at his words, feeling the way his hands trailed down to hold the plush of your waist and how the feel of his fingertips on your skin felt blissful. “Oh, I’m sure, Carmy,” you quipped out, taking your lip between your teeth as you moved the flowers into the watered vase. Once you were done, you moved the arrangement from the sink to the kitchen table, setting it next to the candles you lit earlier.

Carmen trailed behind you out the kitchen, resting a gentle hand on the small of your back. You stepped back into the living room and sought solace in the warm arms of your lover, his strong arms holding you flush against his frame. The two of you rocked back and forth in a gentle rhythm to the soft beats playing, simply in awe of this sweet little life you’ve been able to create. You and Carmen created a perfect harmony out of the asyncopated clutter in both your lives, but you wouldn’t mind another thing on your plate as long as it meant coming back into Carmen’s arms every night.

One of his hands rested on the warmth of your waist while the other trailed up to hold your chin, bringing your lips to meet his in a domestic buzz, sharing sweet kisses in the candlelight. You broke apart and rested your forehead against his shoulder, swaying in the lovestruck air. “I set the bathroom up if you want to take a hot bath later. I got those salts you like to put in the water that help with your muscles. How does that sound?” You whispered out, gently playing with his curls. “God, you’re so good to me,” he playfully groaned out. You placed one last peck on his lips, cradling his cheek in your hands as a smirk adorned your features. “Sounds like a plan to me, then.”

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen x reader

[zorosdimples]

mdni. f! reader but no gendered terms are used. contains spitting. i wrote this quickly, so please excuse any typos; it’s just a tender moment. insert your fave!

it’s a heat-of-the-moment thing.

he’s leaning lazily against the headboard, legs extended, gazing up at you with heavy eyes as you slowly sink down on his leaking cock. the sway of your breasts and the jiggle of the fat on your hips is mesmerizing. but his focus is on your beautiful face: how your brow knits in concentration as you take more and more of him inside you until your ass is flush with his legs, when your spit-slick lips part to let out a breathy moan and your eyes flutter in pleasure.

content with admiring you as you set the tempo, his broad hands slide up the sides of your thighs to settle on your plush hips, his fingertips wrapping around to dig into you ass. you sit there for a moment, shuddering at the feeling of fullness and warmth before you start grinding your hips at a tantalizing pace. your lover’s eyes roll back at the movement (but they return to you, always to you) and you decide to tease him a bit, nearly lifting yourself off his cock before lowering all the way back down.

the moan he lets out at your ministrations is heavenly—there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do to hear more. you lean forward as you start bouncing steadily, catching his burning, lust-clouded face between your palms. his mouth is parted as he pants and whimpers beneath you, spit glistening on his lips. wordlessly, you grasp his jaw and squeeze. a glob of saliva drips from your mouth and lands on his dry tongue; his eyes don’t leave yours as he swallows.

until, that is, he reaches his high.

there’s no warning; as soon as you spit in his mouth, his abdomen is spasming, cock kicking and twitching inside of you as he orgasms. it didn’t take long at all—far too soon for you to cum. but he’s still hard as he comes down, a dopey grin signaling that he’s far from done. you wiggle against him, chuckling at the way he groans. he playfully swats your ass and wraps his strong arms around your waist to press your chest against his own.

“again?” he asks, fire smoldering in his irises.

“again,” you confirm.

you’ll let him take care of you this round.

#i have no idea what this is a demon possessed me idk what else to say. #tw spit #cw spit

[agi-ppangx]

I have a question…? Could u do a part 2 to the “finding put ur pregnant with minho” where reader and minho plan a fun way to tell the other 7 that they’re pregnant and the kids react in a happy way and how they’re gonna be amazing uncles and stuff?

Thank you in advance 🫶

oh my god my first ask ever !! thank u so much for submitting ‹3 i wrote it in the middle of the night so please excuse all typos and grammar mistakes >< hopefully this is what you wanted, i tried to make it fun and chaotic :D please let me know if you liked it !

part one | part three

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

you and minho found out you're pregnant a while ago. the past few weeks were really busy for both of you - going to the doctors, learning about pregnancy and reading about babies and overall implementing a new lifestyle. you've told your parents about the baby as soon as you have been confirmed by your doctor that you are pregnant. however, you decided to wait a while before telling anyone else just to make sure your pregnancy is safe.

now you were about to enter the second trimester and you and minho decided to finally tell the boys about the baby, since the bump was starting to show a little bit. but minho being minho didn't want to just say "hey, just so you know - y/n is pregnant and we're about to be parents" - no, he wanted to do it in a bit of a fun way. that being said, you two organised a little game night with the boys, wanting to share the news during charades.

when they arrived you started with some board games to set the mood. all of you were chatting and joking around, no one suspected anything. jisung and hyunjin asked you a few times if you wanted to grab some beer with them and you came out with some lame excuses, like "sorry, i'm not feeling well now" or "nah, i'm good, i have my orange juice" and they were looking at you suspiciously, but said nothing. after what felt like a hundredth question about beer, you announced that it's time to play charades. minho looked at you and smiled a bit, knowing whats about to happen.

chan went first, pretending to be michael jackson. you laughed a little at his impression since he didn't really know how to do the moonwalk but tried nonetheless. then there was hyunjin, trying to do an impression of bob ross, but it resulted in seungmin making fun of him for a good ten minutes. "okay, now it's my turn,'' minho exclaimed and stood in front of you. "i'm gonna make an impression of someone in this room," he added and he proceed to do his best at pretending to be you - he brushed his non-existent long hair out of his face and imitated your giggling. and then he started to show his non-existent pregnancy belly with his hands. you were trying not to smile, but then the boys started talking. "hey, you said it's someone in this room" jisung yelled and pointed a finger at minho. "he's right, no one ate so much food!" jeongin added at which you started grinning. "right? and the only person who could be pregnant is y/n and-" chan started, but quickly stopped in his tracks when he realised. he turned to you and stared at your face with disbelief, the boys following after him. "y/n, is there anything you wanna tell us?" the boys were staring at you, their bewildered faces making you laugh out loud. minho walked to you and sat by your side, giggling with you at how ridiculously funny the boys looked. when you calmed down a bit, you finally decided to answer their question. "i think you've already realised, but yes, there is something we wanna tell you guys" you started and took minho's hand, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. you took a deep breath and continued, "we are going to have a baby and no - we're not getting a fourth cat" you stated, squeezing minho's hand in yours. the boys looked at you two for a while and then the chaos began. they started yelling and jumping all around your living room. "oh my god, y/n thats amazing! congratulations!" chan said loudly, trying to shout over the rest. "we're gonna be uncles! yeah!" felix started screaming, visibly overjoyed by the news. he then proceeded to trap you in a tight hug, making sure not to squeeze you too hard. the rest of the boys followed him and soon after all of them were hugging you. you didn't see much besides their heads, but when you stood on your tiptoes you managed to take a glance at minho - he was standing next to all of you, his face lit up in a huge grin. "okay boys, let me breathe," you chuckled, feeling quite overwhelmed with their love. "oh my god, of course! hey, stop hugging her!" changbin screamed, suddenly protecting you from the boys. jisung was the last one to break the hug, which he did only because chan used force to get him away from you. "c'mon y/n, have a seat, you have to rest," felix exclaimed, leading you to the couch. you giggled again - you found it adorable how they became so protective over you in the span of ten minutes. "do you need anything? like baby clothes or a stroller? wait, we can help you to arrange a nursery!" changbin started to ramble. "and we can buy you all the essentials, like diapers and baby formula," seungmin added, getting his phone to write down a shopping list. "oh, can i teach your kid how to ride a bike? pleeeease!" jisung begged. "okay, slow down everybody," minho finally spoke, trying to control the situation. "y/n is fine, everything is fine, she's only like twelve weeks pregnant, we have plenty of time to plan everything and no - i will be the one to teach them that," he added, hoping that the boys would quiet down. "minho's right, we're fine by now. but im glad our baby will have such amazing uncles,'' you assured the boys, grinning widely. even though the boys' reaction made you laugh for the next few days, you were happy that you had their support. you and minho were nervous about the whole pregnancy thing, but their will to help and be there for both of you made you think that after all universe made a perfect plan for you.

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz au #skz comfort #stray kids imagines #stray kids comfort #stray kids scenarios #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #stray kids minho #lee know soft hours #lee know soft thoughts #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know #lee minho fluff #lee minho comfort #stray kids bang chan #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids han jisung #stray kids lee felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids i.n #- 🍄𖥻 [ answers ]

[boxofbonesfic]

ransom + “You twitch in your sleep. It’s honestly one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.” from the sleepy prompts list 🥰✨ dark or not ur choice

Title: Sleaze

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: Just a bunch of implications really, Implied Infidelity, Mentions of drunkenness, Ransom being a creep

A/N: i wrote this in twenty minuted hiding my phone under my desk, please excuse any typos 🥲

Your mouth feels dry and cottony, the taste of wine still bitter on your tongue. You shift without opening your eyes, your borrowed gown bunching uncomfortably beneath your hips as you do.

The night returns to you in alcohol soaked flashes; answering your childhood friend’s last minute summons with forced enthusiasm—after all, Louise only seemed to remember you existed when her flakey friends left her high and dry.

“What are you doing right now?!”

This time it was her engagement party, an extravagant affair planned by Louise’s overbearing mother, and her equally overbearing soon-to-be mother-in-law. You had already been in for the night, settled onto your couch with a glass of wine when your phone had gone off.

Louise had begged you to come—her maid of honor and two bridesmaids had both cancelled last minute, leaving her down one scheduled speech and gracious toast. And you’d gone, despite the ugly bitter feeling at not having made it into the bridal party yourself—and really, you’d understood the decision, considering your relationship had devolved into getting coffee once every few months.

You had thrown together a speech on your way over, practicing the padded list of platitudes in the rearview, about the “best friend” who was really just more of an extended acquaintance. She had a dress for you to wear, of course, striking down your department store cocktail dress with the same thinly veiled mixture of pity and disapproval that had caused the distance in the first place. You shrugged it off the way you’d been doing for over a decade—you couldn’t expect someone born with a silver spoon in her mouth to understand the taste of cardboard.

Your head is pounding, and you lift a hand to it, pressing your fingers to your temples. You’d drunk far too much, unsuccessfully drowning the feelings in a sea of red wine and bubbly to chase away the bitterness. How could you not be? You were staring down your third year at the Times, with no articles of your own and too much debt. Meanwhile, you doubted the majority of Louise’s guests—Louise included—had ever actually needed to work.

And then there was her fiancé… You shudder, lifting yourself from the plush pillows beneath you with a groan. You suppose to Louise’s credit, she had a type and stuck to it fairly religiously—assholes. And Ransom Drysdsle didn’t seem to be any different.

You shudder, your disgust re-surfacing at the thought of him. The crafty, shit eating grin on his too-handsome face as he’d brushed up against you for the fiftieth time, the palm of his hand slipping brazenly against your ass through the dress with an exaggerated “Oops”.

Sleazeball.

You groan again as you stand up, the slinky hem of your evening dress pooling at your feet. The heels and purse you’d worn—also courtesy of Louise’s closet—are in a heap at the foot of the bed. The room itself is as unfamiliar as the rest of the estate and boasts the same sort of heedless opulence that you’d noted in the rest of Louise’s fiancé’s sprawling manor; expensive original art, furniture that you suspected was both older and more expensive than anything in your meager apartment.

Through the tall windows the sky is dark, pinks and oranges are just beginning to eat away at the dark edges.

Why am I still here?

Vaguely you can remember being led up the grand staircase as the world shifted with every step, and a voice like smooth honey—

“You sleep it off in here, Sweetness.”

You debate whether or not to take the shoes and purse, considering your own are in the trunk of your car. Which is, of course, valet parked somewhere on the massive property. After a moment of hesitation, you decide to leave them—how far could the car even be?

You remake the bed to the best of your ability before heading for the the intimidatingly large door. You reach for the brassy handle, but to your surprise, it turns without you touching it. You gasp, stepping out of the way as it swings open. Ransom is on the other side, so close you can hardly believe there was a door between you only seconds before.

“Oh—well look at you. Didn’t think you’d be up so early.” You can feel the weight of his gaze as it travels down the line of your exposed throat and shoulders. “You drank like a fish, Sweetness.”

Louise’s fiancé is draped across the doorway like a sleazily suited curtain, his blond hair swept back from his handsome face. He’s still dressed in his party clothes, his expensive suit jacket slung over one shoulder and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Embarrassment thins the smile you force yourself to return.

“I—yeah,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. “Sorry about that.”

“What? No, don’t be,” Ransom shakes his head with a little laugh. The cruel curve of his lips makes it seem mocking, even if it isn’t directed at you. “By the time Lou’s friends are through, the staff is usually pulling heads out of toilets halfway through the night.” You grimace at the mention of Louise’s other friends, the ones who’s absent places you’d been called in to fill.

Ransom doesn’t move, remaining planted in the doorway like an annoying weed. For a moment, you stare at one another, until you clear your throat.

“Well, I guess I’d better—”

“How’d you like my room?” He asks suddenly, cutting you off. “Bed’s pretty comfortable, I think.” It’s something about the way he cocks his head, his lopsided smile spreading once again across his face, that makes you feel like he knows something you don’t. “Well, old room.”

“I, um. It was fine.” You say haltingly. “Comfortable. I’d like to—”

“You know, you’re nicer than Lou’s other friends,” Ransom says slowly, sliding one foot over the threshold and then the other. “I like a nice girl.”

“I should leave.” You say it plainly this time, but he continues to ignore it, like you hadn’t spoken at all. The tightness in your chest grows painful as he kicks the door shut behind him. You’re confused as he begins to work at the pearl buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly as he speaks.

“You twitch in your sleep, you know.” He replies as he lays his jacket over the back of a chair. The diamond cufflinks at his wrists join his blazer as you stare at him in abject horror. “It’s honestly one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

#bones drabble #ransom drysdale drabble #ranso drysdale x reader #ranso drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale imagine #darkfic #dark AU #cevans #cevans fandom #cevans fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

[riley-writes]

Damaged Goods (Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader)

Hi! It’s been soooo long. Grad school will be the death of me. Enjoy this fic that I wrote instead of studying for an exam I’ll take in less than 36 hours that determines whether I graduate or not. This was more fun though. Please excuse any typos I proofread this once and now I have to go study to prove that I can be a professional at hearing people's worst memories while helping them be okay

Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader

You’ve accepted your fate on a planet you don’t even know the name of after being left behind. The last person you expect to see is your ex-friend’s best enemy.

Notes: So reader is gender neutral but there’s a throwaway line that more aligns with the queer/trans experience, but could probably read as anyone who is an outsider or struggled to feel accepted. Enjoy babes!

Warnings: Reference to torture, brief SI language but no followthrough, angst, abandonment. The works.

This certainly wasn’t the way you’d expected to die. Well, that might not be exactly true. You had expected some kind of trouble that you and the fam got into would end in your demise, but foolishly you’d thought that maybe it would be quick.

This was not quick.

While on some godforsaken planet that you couldn’t remember the name of, the Doctor had managed to piss off another alien race, leading to you all fleeing to the TARDIS under heavy fire. And only you hadn’t made it on time.

At first, you’d been confident that the Doctor would come back and rescue you. But the first day passed, and then the second, and then the third, and then before you knew it, you’d been being tortured for… well, you didn’t know anymore. Hard to keep track when you have no clue how long you’ve been passed out for after getting the shit beaten out of you for not knowing where the Doctor had run off to. 

You weren’t really sure when you’d started resenting her for it–for leaving you behind. She and the fam had taken you in when no one else was there for you, when no one would accept you for who you were. You had no one back on Earth. And now you had no one period. It hurt. To be left behind and forgotten like a toy that had been broken and discarded.

And that’s what you were. Broken. You’d held onto your spirit for so long, but as you heard the barred door down the hall swing open, you realized that you just wanted it all to end. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t look up as the door to your cell opened and someone was shoved to the ground, followed by the door slamming shut and locking once more.

“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun!” said a familiar voice, causing your blood to run cold. You snuck a quick glance, and confirmed– yes, the Master had just been thrown into your cell. Unfortunately, your movement didn’t go unnoticed, and his head snapped in your direction. You quickly diverted your eyes, but the damage was done. You heard him tut and wander towards you, and your entire body tensed. 

“Now what is one of the Doctor’s little pets doing in a place like this? Lost, love?” he asked cruelly. You didn’t respond or look up, still curled in on yourself. He stepped closer and your body got impossibly more tense. Your lack of response encouraged him. “Waiting on your precious Doctor to come and save you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet scoff at that, which egged him on further. “How long has she left you here to rot?” He made an irritated sound when you didn’t respond. “I asked you a ques–,” you saw him reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, vaulting yourself away from him across the cell. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate, breaths coming quicker and quicker. Yep, this was it. You were dying. The Master was frozen in place, an unreadable look on his face.

The only sound was your quick breathing. He took a step forward, and you pushed yourself into the corner as far as you could.

“Don’t…” you sobbed, terrified. The Master held his hands up and took another step forward as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Please,” you whispered.” He hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a moment. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn’t quite place– though that was reasonable, being that you hadn’t been in contact with anyone that had shown you anything but disgust and anger. Still, you didn’t relax.

“You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out. You humans are pathetic like that, only having one respiratory system,” he said with jest, and you let out a short laugh in shock. He took this as a good sign, because he slowly approached and knelt down next to you. He seemed to not quite know what to do, but settled on a gentle hand on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“Now. I’m going to go destroy every other being on this planet, and then we’ll leave. Consider this my good deed of this regeneration. Can’t be ruining my reputation now, can I?” he said quietly. You looked up in surprise, and were met with an intense gaze. You nodded, throwing your trust to someone who’d never shown you anything but disdain up until this moment. What did you have to lose?

And as you got on the Master’s TARDIS, you couldn’t help but wonder what life had in store for you next.

#dhawan!master #doctor who #dhawan!master x reader #gn!reader #hurt/comfort #angst #please tell me I did a good job #did I do a good job? #the master x reader

[answer2jeff]

from velcro to bunny ears — carmen berzatto.

warnings : mentions of emotional neglect ?? distant relationship from siblings. not an x reader.

a/n: i wrote this in 20 minutes please excuse me if there are any typos..

I have a feeling Carmen always had trouble with the milestones other kids his aged reached.

Mental math, riding a bike—it all came to him much slower than he was ever comfortably able to admit. Kind, but not smart. Polite, but not friendly. Creative, but not handsome. Imaginative, but not funny.

He's been this way for as long as he can remember, occasional dabbles in art and his passion for culinary being the only part of himself he could be sure would be seen as the best of the best, even if he didn't truly believe he was quite at the epitome of perfection.

Shoelaces.

Fuck, were those the bane of his existence at just 7 years old. Stupid Velcro that made a tearing sound that was similar to a bloodcurdling scream.

He'd been wearing shoes with Velcro strips, or short laces that purposefully looked tucked and didn't require tying, since he could walk.

Jesus. Carmen never even learned how to tie them. Asking anyone, even his mother, was simply too much to ask. Instead, he would insist that Velcro shoes were okay, and he wasn't too old for them.

Until Uncle Jimmy came to visit during the summer of 1998.

Mikey, barely 16, was out with friends for the weekend, possibly getting drunk on beaches and rolling joints on the roofs of parking garages. And 11 year old Natalie was celebrating her classmate, Ashley's, 12th birthday. Rollerblade hockey was the new craze. Why wait for mucky fishponds and vast lakes to solidify and freeze over in the dead of winter when you could just go across the street and bust your ass on the concrete instead?

It wasn't necessarily Carmen's idea. Cicero, being the overbearing babysitter he'd become due to Donna's negligence, couldn't handle seeing his poor little nephew cooped up in the tiny upstairs bedroom riddled with hand drawn artworks plastered on his walls. It wasn't right. Summer was for bruises and scabs that would be forgotten about with the booming sound of fireworks and taste of sugary popsicles dripping down your arms.

"Why don't you go hang out with the kids across the street, Bear?" Cicero asked him. Carmen picked his little head up from his sketch book and looked out the view of his window.

He only shrugged.

"They're playin' rollerblade hockey. Your brother Mikey fuckin' loved that, y'know? When he was your age, I mean. Give it a shot, eh? Might be nice kids."

The Raymondville's. Carmen didn't know much about that family. He didn't know they were nice, or played rollerblade hockey like his older, therefore much cooler, big brother. All he knew was that they were also older, therefore much cooler than him too.

That's all that mattered anyway. But he had this tendency to follow in his brothers footsteps. With Jimmy's rare visits and Donna's unpredictable and equally scarce moments of wanting to be an actual tender and caring mother, Mikey was the closest thing to a reliable adult he ever had. Natalie was too busy spending every moment she could out of the house until she'd come crawling back to Mom, who would only scold her for ever wanting to leave in the first place, to notice how perfectly Carmen blended into the wallpaper.

A happy house.

Rollerblade hockey sounds fine.

After a dig through the attic and rummaging through a box of old sports equipment—low and behold lied the skates. Black and turquoise. Mikey's favorite colors. The 4 wheelers were a little intimidating, but Carmen faintly remembered spending a week with Aunt Lisa and learning how to at least stroll down the sidewalk of his cousins neighborhood.

"Go on," Cicero gave a gentle push to Carmen's small and trembling shoulders, leaning back on the front porch to carefully watch his nephew try and be an active member of society from a distance. His little blonde curls blew in the evening wind, the humidity from earlier in the day still weighing them down. His hands shook vigorously which were tightly gripping a pair of Mikey's old rollerskates.

A jumble of "hi's, my name is," and "can i play's," fell out of his quiet mouth. They were met with nods from the 5 boys, easily ages 9-12, the oldest being 13. But this was only after shared glances and shrugs of discomfort were shown. The Raymondville's had never seen this fragile little kid in their lives: short and skinny. But they knew the Berzatto's. They knew cool Mikey and pretty Natalie—but not average Carmen. A breath of relief washed over Carmy, and he sat down on the fluffy and bright green grass to remove his white lace-less sneakers and shoved his feet into the slightly too big skates.

The straps snapped down easily. But those damned laces, thick and white with little black stitching, taunted him. He swallowed.

Carmen simply tucked them in, his stomach queasy at the feeling of the plastic aglet's poking his feet.

He stumbled a bit, but he secured himself as he remembered to bend his knees just a bit. It wasn't all too different from skating on the ice in mid-January. Except now it was mid-June, and every wheel could easily catch itself in the bumps and cracks of the old streets of the neighborhood that hadn't been patched in years. But alas, the laces came loose, and one had caught right in the metal bolt of the wheel and zipped right around it, knocking little Carmy off his feet and onto his bum.

Tears immediately pricked at his waterlogged eyes when he looked around just to see everyone had already started the 5th game of the day without him.

Uncle Jimmy simply sighed and beckoned his hand toward himself, shaking his head in pity rather than surprise. Carmen's shoulders shook with silent sobs as he held his skates in one skinny arm and his sneakers in the other. He couldn't even wipe the snot that pooled from his nose or the consistent tears that streamed down his cheeks and soaked his t-shirt.

"Jesus," Cicero swore under his breath, leaning forward "Nobody ever teach you how to tie your shoes, Carm?" he raised a brow, carefully taking his nephews Velcro shoes and setting them down on the porch beside him. At 7 years old, with a one sibling being 12 and the other being nearly 16, one would expect he could tie his own shoes. He couldn't tell which question was greater: how he hadn't learned through observation, or why he never just asked?

"N—no," Carmen hiccuped, wiping his eyes and taking a seat down beside his uncle. He carefully watched as Cicero went through step by step instructions of the 'bunny ear' method. The little boy was mesmerized by the simplicity of the loop Cicero wrapped around his thumb, pulling it into a tight and secure bow in such quick timing. He never forgot after that day.

Sometimes he still mumbles "wrap around the coop, push through the loop," as he ties the laces of his white Nike Cortez sneakers before going on his 3rd soul searching and ultimate sensory seeking 15 minute walk of the week.

"Bunny ears," Uncle Jimmy said to Carmy.

And 'bunny ears' he did.

tags : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto blurb #i need to see more posts like this #just talking about carmen #and his childhood #carmen berzatto headcanons #the bear #cicero the bear #uncle jimmy the bear #natalie berzatto #mikey berzatto #ugh this blurb is so cute #but sad

[unordinary-but-extraordinary]

I'm sorry

"Hey Universe, it's me again..." Marinette sigh speaking to the dark void of time.

"I have dealt with so much this past year but I'm finally graduating! I thought everything was going great and don't get me wrong it has but..." she took a deep breath.

"The boy I'm with... his family... I ... I just feel hopeless I act a certain way or say something and one of his siblings twist it to make it worst then it was. When I think things are working out and getting better between them and I then something else happens." She paused waiting for a response.

*sigh*

"I have thought about ending things with him every time we argue or have a disagreement especially when his family causes it. But I love him I say all of these scenarios and he answers them, but I can tell they annoy him. I can't blame him they can be pretty realistic."

silence

"He always reassures me but today things were hard... I was blamed for things I didn't do or even intentionally did and I snapped... I told him I was done with his family I didn't want to be involved anymore and that no matter what I did it was bad. I didn't want to feel like I'm a bother, so I was separating myself from them. But when I looked at him, he just stayed silent and didn't look at me."

"I've been thinking of ending things even if I love him Paris needs me and I'm so close I can't afford losing now. I don't want him to feel like he needs to choose between them or me. I know he acts like he doesn't care for them, but he does he loves them, and I know building those relationships was hard for him I couldn't separate that. "

silence

"I'm sorry I came here just to rant... I wanted to feel, and you always listen. Thank you I promise to bring down Hawkmoth and restore balance." Begins to stand up to open a portal back.

steps can be heard coming her way and she turns around.

"I thought you didn't want to be seen toda-" Marinette's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry Marinette."

"Damian...I"

" I know..."

"but how.. you...since when.. I .. how did you get here?" Everything started to spin

"calm down Mari let me explain." Slowly started to approach as though she was a injured animal.

"I- I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry I" She was close to a panic attack.

"Habibti it's okay look at me.. they brought me here."

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way.. emotions are something I still struggle with but it is no excuse to make you feel this way. My family they are wary people and see you as someone you're not."

Marinette was still looking down.

"Please look at me, Habibti please look at me. I love you. Only you. I will fix everything just give me a chance." Damian pleaded looking straight into her eyes.

*****I wrote this in 10 min just to get it out so typos, grammar, etc may be there lmk ... this was inspired by an experience I felt and thought this could've happen to Mari if the family of Damian was trying to find faults in her because they were suspicious and how after dealing with so much, she didn't want to deal with anymore and wants to end things. I can also see Damian because he still is learning how to communicate doesn't realize how bad things have gotten and do to the universe intervening, he realizes he may lose the girl he +-loves. ***

#maribat #damian x marinette #maridami #marinette x damian

[she-is-juniper]

Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader slow burn series (chapter two)

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x f!Reader

Type: series (chapter 2 / ?)

Warnings: fluff, some angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn, a very intense sexy makeout, brief discussions of racial tensions

Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work…and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are?

Word Count (by chapter): 5K 

Rating (by chapter): M (mature)

A/N: Wow! I am so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter of my new slowburn series! I wrote chapter two here in the car on a road trip with my family (lol) so excuse the typos. Things get pretty steamy here but actual smut to come, I promise y’all.

I wrote this fic visualizing Austin!Elvis, but you could also read it with real!Elvis as well if you prefer. The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956.

Please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance! ♡, Juni

~ Previous chapter ~

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My first kiss with Elvis Presley was on the roof of his family’s house in Tupelo, under the stars of the Mississippi sky.

We were both thirteen, and he was my first love. Before that, he was my best friend, and before even that, he was just the boy next door.

But as I grew up and learned about the ways of the world, all the good and the bad, he grew up right beside me. We grew closer and closer. And by that summer, the summer of 1948, the War finally over…he was my everything, and I was his.

But that was back then. Now, eight years later, he didn’t even recognize me.

So what?

I left the benefit concert in a daze, with Elvis’s last words to me still ringing in my ears. “‘Meet me at Beale Street, tonight. Club Handy.” I took the bus home and changed as fast as I could. And I made my way to Beale Street. 

I was no stranger to Memphis’s famous Beale Street—or infamous, depending on who you asked. Rich with history and culture, the bustling street was fueled by the memory of what it used to be and the hopes of what it might become. Increasing racial pressures from local coalitions and government entities threatened the commerce of Beale Street and the security of its people, but that didn’t stop its shop owners and patrons from persevering as they always had. 

Beale Street was alive tonight. Music sounded from nearly every joint. And it felt like home to me, for the music that was birthed there was the music I grew up surrounded by. 

The Independence Day excitement in the central city, where the benefit concert had been, must have transcended to the southside, where flocks of men and women filled the streets with invigorating zeal and a hunger for excitement. Every club was full, packed to the brim with dancing bodies and the beat of the drumset or the crowing of brass. There were so many people on Beale Street that they spilled out of the clubs’ entrances, doting each other on their arms, sweating and laughing and dancing.  

I shouldered my way past the crowds on the sidewalk, scanning left and right for a figure that stood out—because surely, a man like Elvis Presley would stick out like a sore thumb at a place like this, a place in which a white man became the minority. There was no sight of him yet, so I meandered my way to the entrance to Club Handy. It already had a long line of people waiting, who looked at me in annoyance as I pushed to the front.

“Back of the line,” the bouncer gruffed when I approached him. 

“I’m supposed to meet someone here,” I said, trying to sound convincing with a sultry tone. “So I was wondering if there’s anything at all I can do to cut the line here to get in?”

The bouncer gave me a once over, but he shook his head. “No can do,” he said. “Special performance tonight.”

I wondered who was performing. “Anything I can do to change your mind?” I asked, despite the glaring eyes of the people I had cut in line boring into the back of my head. 

“Wish I could for ya, miss. But if you’re not performing and you’re not on the list, I can’t let you in. Owner’s orders.”

I left the bouncer to stand by the wall under the enclave, feeling miffed. Of all the nights I was to meet up with Elvis, and it was the busiest night you’d ever seen on Beale Street. I had no way of knowing if Elvis were already inside or not, waiting for me. And if I didn’t see him again tonight, would I ever see him again?

I thought again about the way he’d kissed me in the crowd, and then again behind the stage. The yearning in his eyes. He had the same expression on his face as the one he’d had eight years ago when his family had left Tupelo. If he didn’t recognize me now, all grown up, he had to have felt the same soul connection that I felt. 

As if to answer my own question, a commotion from down the way caught my eye. Onlookers were gazing out toward the street, chattering with excitement. Curious, I peered out in the direction of their line of interest. 

A shiny Cadillac had just parked on the street. A crowd was already starting to form around it—mostly women, but a fair share of men, too, all of whom were buzzing with excitement about the man in the Cadillac.

Who was, of course, none other than Elvis Presley. 

He stood out—and not just because of the crowd, or the color of his skin in contrast to the rest. He glowed with an exuberance that was simply indescribable, albeit a different sort of glow than the one he’d had onstage earlier that night. He had changed into a shirt made a collared pink shirt made of intricate lace that would have looked ostentatious on anyone else, but on him, it looked exquisite. His black hair was perfectly slicked back. He regarded the crowd of fans warmly, shaking their hands and signing books, but he was scanning the street, looking for something. Or for someone. 

For me?

For me. 

Elvis’s eyes locked on mine. His whole face lit up like I was the only person in the whole world he wanted to see—which didn’t make sense, because in his mind, we had just met today. But that didn’t make it any less meaningful. My cheeks flooded with heat as he came striding right over to me. 

“Missy,” he said in that unmistakable Southern drawl as he approached. “You’re here.” 

It felt surreal again to be so near to him. “I thought you might already be inside,” I said in a rush. “But it’s packed. I couldn’t get in.”

“Oh, we’ll find a way in, darlin’,” Elvis replied. His eyes painted a lavish brushstroke down and up my body, soaking in my appearance, and I felt like I might implode. “Should be against the law to look that gorgeous.”

I glanced down at my outfit—I had changed, too, into a fitted dress with a wrapped v-neck bodice and a circle skirt, my favorite dress to go dancing in. And then I looked back at him, in his lace shirt and thin black trousers. 

“I could say the same to you.”

Elvis laughed, showing his white teeth, and the sound was so musical it could accentuate the sounds of the blues pouring out from every club. “We make a helluva pair, then, Missy.” His silly nickname sounded so good coming from his lips. I silently thanked Ray, the cook at the diner, for coming up with the nickname while in earshot of the rocker. It was a good cover for my real name, which Elvis would certainly have recognized. 

It felt so strange, living this alternate identity around Elvis as Missy. I found myself oddly freed by the notion of starting with a blank slate with him. He didn’t recognize me—so what? Missy could be anyone I wanted her to be. 

And Missy, I realized with a smile, wants to have a bit of fun with Elvis tonight. 

His entourage of fans caught up to him then, forming a growing crowd on the sidewalk behind him. Elvis smiled graciously at them, but he was attracting a lot of attention. A few of them were squealing, reaching out to touch his arms—

“E.P.!” The voice came from the doors to Club Handy, which had swung open, and a man was peering his head out. He beamed at Elvis. “That’s my man! Miles, let the guy in.”

Elvis beamed back, and suddenly he was grabbing my hand and leading me down. Before I had time to revel at the feeling of his skin on mine, he was dragging me through the crowd and up to the doors of Club Handy. “Is there room for the two of us?” Elvis asked. 

“Absolutely.” The man let us in, closing the door, and began to lead us up the narrow stairwell. “It’s so good to see you, man.”

“Always a pleasure, B.B.,” Elvis replied.

I gaped. B.B. as in… B.B. King?

“I’m so glad you’re here,” B.B. was saying as we approached the sounds from the club up the stairs. He then turned and extended a hand to me. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m—ah, call me Missy,” I said, shaking his hand. 

“Missy, you and your date tonight are in for a real treat.”

Life was beginning to take on that same hazy, fantastical quality I had felt earlier that evening at the benefit concert. The kind of feeling you get when you feel completely disconnected from reality, at the whim of the world around you, and all you could do is just watch your feet move on their own and try to convince yourself you’re not dreaming. But when we finally reached the top and B.B. pushed open the door to the club, the feeling of complete unreality was set in for good. 

The club was more packed as I’d ever seen it and nearly as hot as a sauna. But it was the kind of heat that made you feel energized, made you feel on fire with zeal. The ensemble of musicians at the front of the room amplified the heat with a sound like no other. The frontman was on fire, too, and once I spotted his makeup and attire, I immediately understood why Club Handy was so boisterous tonight; they were all here to see him perform. It was unmistakably Little Richard. I’d heard rumors of the flamboyant musician making the rounds through the bars of Memphis this summer, but seeing him in the flesh was a different level of Unreal. 

Elvis turned and smiled at me. “You been here before?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music and the crowd. 

“Once or twice,” I replied. My roommates and I have come a couple of times prior for music and dancing. But never on a night like this. 

B.B. led us to a reserved booth seat at the back of the venue. The air in the club was thick with heat and cigarette smoke and the smell of booze, but even sitting across from Elvis in the booth, all I could suddenly smell was his cologne.

“Who would have thought we’d have two of Memphis’s biggest stars gracing our presence on the same night?” B.B. King said. 

Elvis waved him off. “I’m getting away from all that tonight.”

“Hardly. I saw all your fans out there, E.P. They love you.”

Inexplicably, Elvis’s expression became bashful. “If only I had half the talent as this guy,” he said, gesturing to Little Richard on the stage, who was putting on an enthralling show for the little club.

“A man like Little Richard could have your talent four times over, Elvis, and he’d still never become a big shot the way you have. All because of the color of his skin.”

I listened as Elvis and B.B. engaged in conversation about the performer. There was a pitcher of alcohol, containing something sweet and made of rum, and I poured myself a glass. But before long, B.B. was standing up and bidding us farewell. 

“Enjoy your date,” he told me with a wink. “You know where to find me, E.P.” 

As he departed, Elvis scooted down the booth so he was seated right next to me. “This guy up there,” he spoke in my ear so I could hear him over the noise. “He deserves all the money and fame in the world.”

“He’s amazing,” I said in awe. “I can’t believe we got in tonight.”

“I’ve got my connections,” he drawled. 

“Clearly you do!”

We watched Little Richard, wailing his heart out as the band launches into a new tune, one you recognize as Tutti Frutti. “They’re calling him the Architect of Rock and Roll,” Elvis says after a while.

“They’re calling you The King,” I noted. 

Elvis shook his head. “They have it all wrong. Guys like B.B. and Richard, they’re the real kings. If I could let them take my place, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

I studied his face. There was a layer of something new to his expression, something I hadn’t seen this afternoon at the diner or during the performance. Something must have happened after the show. I wondered what it was. Did he get flack from his manager about the benefit concert?

His face now reminded me so much of the Elvis Presley I’d once known. The scrawny, shy kid from Tupelo. The one who used to run to my house to bring me half of his dinner when my family couldn’t afford enough for a meal. 

Such humble beginnings, and look at us now. 

He saw me staring. And he smiled. 

“I’m glad you’re here, with me,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because when I met you at that diner, I thought to myself that I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t try to see you again.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “You’ve only just met me, you know. You could have found any other girl to dote on your shoulder.” I said it derisively, but with a sly smirk, so he knew I was flirting. 

And sure enough, it captured his attention like a moth to a light. He couldn’t take his eyes off my face, my smile. “Maybe so,” he drawled. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

“But you don’t even know me, Elvis Presley,” I accused him. “And I frankly don’t know you either.” Not anymore, at least. 

He pursed his pretty lips. “That’s the thing,” he said, his voice suddenly husky against my ear. “I feel as though I’ve known you a long, long time.”

Hmm, I wonder why? I thought bitterly to myself. “I’m just a girl who works at a diner,” I dismissed him. 

“But there’s just somethin’ about you…”

I couldn’t explain why, but the notion of Elvis’s attraction to me was equally as infuriating as it was compelling. Of course, I felt the same toward him, but for him to be drawn to me without a single thought in his daft head that he should remember who I am? I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kiss him. Instead, I just downed the rest of my glass with a big gulp and stood up.

“Where ya going?” he asked. I observed the fear in his eyes that I was leaving for good. But I just flashed my teeth at him. 

“To dance.”

Emboldened by the alcohol, I sauntered to the center of the club, feeling the burn of his eyes on my back. What with the dim lights, the crowded bodies, and the haze of smoke, it didn’t take long to become completely engulfed by the crowd.

I joined them in movement with the beat of the music. The movement came like second nature, especially under the influence of the booze. I didn’t care who watched, although as I danced and danced, I hoped it wouldn’t be long until Elvis came to his senses and caught up with me. 

Sure enough, after a while, I felt a tall presence from behind me, followed closely by the smell, a warm, sultry musk, and I knew he’d finally come to find me. I turned my head to look up at him through my periphery. He was tall, and by the sway of his body, I guessed that he’s had a couple of drinks of his own. 

And suddenly, we were dancing together. At first, I felt just the slightest of brush of his body beside mine as he finds his rhythm, but as the music progresses and the press of the crowd gets closer and closer against us, he has no choice but to press his own body closer and closer to mine. Still facing away from him, the both of us watching Little Richard up by the stage in appreciation, we carefully avoided each other’s eyes. But I couldn’t ignore the feel of his hips against my backside. And then, the feel of his hands on my waist. 

The tension between our bodes became so thick it was almost palpable. I rested my hands on his, giving him permission to press his fingers more firmly into my hips. 

Before long, my back was flush against his chest while we danced. The band launched into a new song, something slower, heavier, sultrier. Elvis took the lead, then, pushing my body away only to grasp my hand and twirl me around so I’m facing him. The man’s eyes soaked me up, drew me up toward him, drew me in, held me captive. I soaked up the sight of him as well. He looked so undeniably handsome, even with—or perhaps, especially with—the way the sweat glistened on his brow and how a lock of his hair had fallen out of the neat pompadour.

And then Elvis was moving with me again, effortlessly keeping time with the sway of the music, the motion of my hips. He smirked at me, a cocky, enrapturing gesture, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

“Looks like you don’t need a stage to make those hips move, cowboy,” I purred. 

“Easy to dance when I’ve got a pretty gal to dance with,” he quipped back. His eyes, piercing blue and still lined with the residual blackness from his makeup from earlier, were hard to look away from. Not that I wanted to. He was easily the most charming, captivating man I’ve ever been near.

And he was very, very near, then, as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed his hand into my lower back, pulling my chest against his. I allowed my hands to snake up his arms, feeling his lean muscles beneath my fingertips. My heart hammered in my chest as he brought his other hand up to my face. His hand was so big that I could rest my cheek in the palm of it while his fingers curled against the hair at the nape of my neck. When I leaned into his touch, he tilted my body forward into a dip, exposing the skin of my neck and chest to the ceiling. He trailed his lips an inch away from my body, and then pulling me back upright, I felt his mouth against my earlobe. His hot breath sent a wave of chills across my body, despite the heat of the club. 

“Tell me your real name,” he demanded in a low rasp. 

“I’ll never tell,” I replied, my voice just as thick as his. I was suddenly aware of just how turned on I felt, with his hips against mine, his warm breath on my neck, his hands against me so surely. God, I suddenly wanted his hands all over me. 

“Why not, darlin’?” Elvis squeezed my hip, ever so slightly, but enough to make me melt like chocolate in his arms. 

“Because I like it when you call me Missy.” Surely, with the direction this was going, he’d be satisfied with at least that for a name to call me.

A name to call me when we…well…

Maybe the disorientation of my dissociation was slowly fading, because I suddenly had the delicious, terrifying realization of where this could go. 

“If that’s what you want, then, Missy,” Elvis murmured, his hips still moving against mine with that sensual rhythm. “I’ll call you anything you want tonight.”

“And tomorrow?” I cooed.

He chuckled a bit. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow can be whatever you want,” I said suggestively. 

His eyes widened. “Well… Tomorrow, I’ll insist on your real name. But tonight, Missy will do.”

We couldn’t make it to the end of the song. 

Elvis dragged me through the crowd, along a back corridor of the club I hadn’t seen at all when we first came in, which led to what looked like an emergency exit by the windows. It was dark and obscured from the view of the dance floor. And there was nobody here. 

Elvis kissed me for a third time. But it was less of a kiss and more of an attack of his mouth against mine, an attack I was more than willing to endure. He pressed me roughly against the brick wall and I lost all sense of reason as his lips assailed me with a harshness and yet a simultaneous softness I’ve never experienced before. I let out a little squeak of surprise, which he consumed with a wanton growl of his own. 

My silent wish from earlier came true, the wish to have Elvis’s hands all over my body. He touched me as if he were parched and desperate for the oasis of my body. I gripped at his hips, pressing him more firmly into me as he moved his lips to my neck. There was a shared feeling between the two of us, between our two bodies, partly the feeling of gratefulness for the sliver of privacy here in the dingy corridor, partly the feeling of intense and critical mutual need for the other. Whatever the feeling, it made me dizzy with desire.

“So gorgeous,” he groaned as he kissed my neck. I didn’t say anything back, couldn’t, the words seemingly caught in my throat where his lips were. They trailed up my neck to my ear, where his teeth brushed against my earlobe before he whispered, “You hear me, darlin’? You’re so beautiful.”

The only breathy response I could muster in return was his name. 

He was pressed against me so intensely that I was practically sitting on the thigh he had me straddling against the wall. The movement of his leg elicited a steady warmth in my body that pooled between my legs. I arched into him and clawed at his body, my mind completely blank of any thoughts except right here, right now, and…

“Wanna get outta here, luv?”

The meaning behind his words was a defibrillator to my heart. Reality crashed upon me. Where I had been existing in a haze all night, I suddenly became aware of the world around me, aware of Elvis’s body, aware of my own again. 

Aware of who he was, who he had once been. 

I stiffened in his arms. 

Elvis, readily listening to my body language, immediately leaned away. When he saw my expression, he took half a step away from the wall, and I regained my balance. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“I can’t,” I said. My heart was suddenly racing, and it wasn’t just from desire anymore. 

Elvis’s face dropped. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, darlin’,” he said softly. 

I gulped. “I know, it’s just—“ I scanned for the exit. “I—I just can’t do this, Elvis.”

“What d’ya—?” 

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before I was pushing away from him and heading toward the exit in a rush. But he grabbed my hand, gently tugging me back to him, not in coercion or with mal intent, but in confusion, in an attempt to glean an answer. 

“Hold on, hold on,” he said. “What happened? Was it something I said?”

“Thank you for the ticket to the concert,” I said, “but I can’t do this. I…I have to go.”

“Please,” he urged. “Don’t leave—Missy. Talk to me.” His scours my face for any semblance of an answer for what he’d done wrong. 

In truth, he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. I knew that, of course I did. But suddenly, I couldn’t bear to let him be with me under the l circumstances. I couldn’t ignore the pain that he didn’t recognize who I was. 

I could tell him. I knew I could. I could tell him, and he would know. And even if he didn’t recognize me, he certainly hadn’t forgotten. How could he have forgotten the way I had professed my love to him like a stupid kid?

But once he knew who I was, how could I face him now after where we’d left things eight years ago?

Meeting Elvis organically was an act of serendipity. And the shared connection we had was unlike anything else. But how could I let this go further without him knowing who I really was?

Before, I had felt confident stepping into the mystere of the Missy identity. But now, it just felt disingenuous to him. 

I couldn’t let myself give into the temptation. It wasn’t meant to be. 

“I have to go,” I said again sadly. 

It must have been something in my tone that led him to finally drop my hand. 

I gave him one last, long look before I slowly turned and left the club, leaving him alone in the smoke and the haze. 

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The Presleys were moving to Memphis. 

Elvis didn’t even have the guts to tell me himself. I’d had to find out through our classmates, who whispered the news throughout the hallways like weeds spreading through a garden. I didn’t even have to confront him about it to know that the rumor was true; he had been avoiding me all week, and that alone spoke volumes. 

I was thirteen. I was in love. And my heart was about to get broken. 

On the day the Presleys were supposed to leave, I concocted a plan. When my parents had gone to bed for the night, I snuck into the hallway closet and took the one decent suitcase we owned. I took it back to my room and started packing my belongings.

I snuck out the dusty window in the kitchen. And I hauled myself and the suitcase down the dirt street to the Presley residence. Parked in front of their house, their 1939 Plymouth was already loaded up with their trunks of belongings. 

The light to Elvis’s bedroom on the second floor was on. I gathered a handful of stones from the dirt road and threw them up to the window until he appeared in the frame, frowning down at me.

He was the most beautiful boy I had ever known. And he was leaving me. 

When he finally emerged by the back door, the first thing he said to me after a whole week of silence was, “You can’t be here, Y/N.”

“Yes, I can,” I argued.

Elvis looked furtively back toward the house. “No, you can’t. If Mama saw me out here talkin’ with you, she’d kill me.”

“I don’t care.” I gripped the strap of my suitcase tighter. Elvis’s eyes tracked the movement. 

“What are you doing with that?” he frowned. 

I straightened my shoulders. “I’m coming with you to Memphis.”

“You’re—” Elvis stepped over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders degradingly. “No, Y/N. You can’t come with us.”

My name came out of his mouth like a disappointed sigh. But I just ground my heels and gritted my teeth. 

“I’ll hitchhike to Memphis, then,” I insisted. “And then we can be together there.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N,” he said with a groan. He threw his hand to his forehead. “You have to stay here, with your family. And I have to go, with mine.”

“Yeah, but—” 

“We can’t be together,” he said definitively. “Ever.”

As his words sunk in, fat tears welled in my eyes. “But I love you, Elvis. We’re meant to be together.”

Elvis just stared at me. “You…love me?” His mouth formed a hard line. But I saw his eyes glisten, too. “You can’t.”

“But I do!”

“Go home, Y/N,” was all he said.

I heard his Mama, then, calling for him from inside the house. He looked back nervously, and then he looked at me. He shook his head as he watched me cry, but it looked like he was trying not to cry, too. And then he turned and went back inside the house. 

I sat behind the bush across from their house on top of my suitcase and cried as the Presleys loaded into their car that night, and without another goodbye, drove away to Tennessee, leaving their life in Tupelo behind forever. 

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Hey babes ♥ How we doing? What are we all thinking!! Where will this go with Elvis and his childhood best friend?? Any predictions, thoughts, etc??

I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Please send me asks because they make me smile so hard omg!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

Taglist: I’m on mobile rn so I hope to god this works

@dances-and-dolly-dresses @cozacorner @butlersbitxh @fangirlwithasweettooth @smckinney @shimmeringlights44 @kpopgalaxy28 @mamaspresley @deafeningpresley @felicityroth @callthedarknessdown @wonderlandlovelove @bobbykennedyfan @starry-night-20 @wild-rose-35 @alligator-person @lexthemess21 @pumkiinpasties @touchmetouchmetouchme @londonalozzy @treatmenice @cherryhoneybuns @g0ldenlush @megastar21 @bamitzzsam @smckinney @mirandastuckinthe80s @kittenlittle24 @x-earthangel @yeetfack-blog @sodonebruh @gemstone9 @hoedameronsworld @floralcyanide @likexthexplanet @tubble-wubble @pastelteabubbles @biafbunny

I’m probably missing a ton of y’all rip sorry just send me an ask to be added

#elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley headcanons #austin butler #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #austin buter x reader #austin butler imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #works by juniper #slow burn #reader insert #writing #music

[cranberrytea451]

I dont have a problem. I can stop simping anytime i want

Oh really? BET.

This one is for you 🫵.

(I wrote this in the car so feel free to excuse my typos.)

Motti wasn't known for her patience. In fact, she wasn't known for much at all besides the occasional 'carrot' comment about her red hair.

So it stood to reason that she should have just leaned up to kiss him.

But how did you kiss a skeleton prince? One that had no lips but hummed in praise when she landed an arrow. One that had no skin but whose hands left phantom heat on the back of her shirt when he corrected her stance. One that had no heart but was kind to her even when she lashed out at him.

How did you kiss someone who was created to give love but not receive it?

She knew he possessed demi-god like powers, and his presence radiated positivity, causing joy wherever he stepped foot.

Then why did his eyes seem so sad.

Motti trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. She stood taut and poised, her arm pulled back.

Whoosh.

The arrow flew past the target and embedded itself in the ground.

She half expected a little murmur of encouragement or a soft chuckle to brush against her neck.

There was none. He had been gone for days and she had waited. Motti was not known for her patience.

But she knew she needed some now because she messed up. God damn it, she messed up bad. She was afraid he was never coming back and she never even leaned up to kiss him.

She closed her eyes, seething in frustration and self-loathing. Her knuckles became white as she gripped her bow.

The sky above rumbled in displeasure, as if feeding off her mood. And a couple of tears fell from her face as the rain poured.

She had pushed him too far. They did this thing… a game, a secret between them. Teasing and prodding one another until someone gave (usually her) and laughter broke.

The teasing wasn't enough, she wanted more. She wanted all of him. She wanted their connection to be deeper than just friends with inside jokes. She wanted him to crawl inside her and wear her as a skin. She wanted to shield his bones from the notches and discoloration that would sometimes peak out behind his shirt.

She wanted … she wanted.

She wanted to trace his skeletal features with the tips of her fingers. She wanted to wake to his arms snaked around her womb. She wanted to sit in his lap while he read a book.

She wanted him to cry on her shoulder for once.

Motti had been bolder with her teasing. She touched him for longer, winked at him more, posed her body in a flattering manner.

And thought of how to seduce a man who couldn't get a boner.

She came up with a plan. An apple.

Romance books were chalk full of scenes like that. The woman biting into a bright red apple and then licking its exposed flesh, then the man would get flushed and flustered.

And oh, Motti wanted to see him flustered for once.

If it turned out silly she could just play it off as one of their games… but if not….

Well, it didn't turn out either way she thought.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

His voice reverberated below her sending an itch up her spine.

"I wasn't hiding. I was relaxing."

"Perched up there?" She missed the way his voice wavered slightly. "I may call you dove, but I'm pretty sure humans can't fly."

"OH please." She leaned her back more securely against the tree trunk and crossed her legs. "I'm hardly seven feet off the ground. Look, if these apples don't go splat when they hit the ground, then I won't either."

She expected a jovial 'tch' or a familiar 'hmm', but all she got was silence. She should have known then that something was wrong.

The red head glanced at him over her eyelashes. His glowing eyes stared past her, the perpetual grin on his face looked as taut as a bow.

He wasn't paying attention. Why had she been so greedy?

Motti let out a huff then did something very stupid. She plucked an apple and jumped.

Dream's reaction was spontaneous, sprinting and swiping her out of the air before gravity could even set in.

"I could have landed on my own."

"Yes, but then I wouldn't have the pleasure of holding you."

She was flush against his chest, his hands firmly holding her to him. The tree leaves above leaving shimmering shadows across his face. Blinded by her own wants she hadn't seen the way his eyes darkened in some unreadable melancholy. This was the moment she should have leaned up to kiss him.

She was bold but still not brave enough, so instead–

"Want one?"

She lifted the apple to her mouth and took a slow bite. She had rattled him, but not in the way Motti wanted.

A skeletal hand snapped to her wrist.

And squeezed.

Until she dropped the apple.

Dream hadn't looked angry. He looked afraid. His eyes disappeared into their sockets, his hands shook violently.

And then she let out a little gasp of pain.

And then he let go as if she were made of fire.

And then he was gone.

Btw motti doesn't know his backstory yet here.

You are welcome for the angst. Here have a wholesome meme.

#cranberry juice #cranberrytea451 answer #you are a simp #but i am too #i love him 😩 #i was already editing my other fanfiction so i was in writing mode #dream sans #little one shot #a shot to the heart #mothie you are actually know for ur awesome art

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

I originally wrote this fic in September and finished it late October 2019. It was one of the first fics I'd ever written for this fandom and it has remained the only multi-chapter fic I ever finished. For years I've been wanting to rewrite this fic, to fix the typos, change the clunky sentences, and include characters I'd introduced but didn't do anything more with. Mostly I want to re-share this fic. It sits at the bottom of my fic list on ao3 and I don't want this fic to be forgotten because it still means a lot to me 5 years on so over the next couple of days I'm gonna go through each chapter and rewrite certain parts. You can read the original on ao3 or you can just read this version. Anyway, this is getting long so Imma shut up now.

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who's had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter One.

A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, the paper’s  call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.

Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built, believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that- rumours.

But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.

He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.

“What do you think?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Do you think she’s impressive?”

To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.

“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”

Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.

“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.

Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.

“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.

With departure time approaching, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.

“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words; they are excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.

“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”

“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”

Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.

“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have arrived here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”

“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”

Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.

“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”

“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”

“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”

Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, having had enough London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he had put himself in. One he didn’t think he was going to get out of any time soon.

She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and only drinking is on their mind.

She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they would be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England that they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.

Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who spoke very little English between them.

The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘ten minutes’ she was promised.

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.

“You lonely, love?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”

He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.

“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.

But he presses on.

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say or do anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.

Her brother is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.

She taps him on the shoulder.

“Charlie, I want to go.”

“Hold on a second…”

His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.

“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.

Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.

“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana spies two pieces of paper laying on top of the money.

A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.

“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.

“Charlie!” Dana yells as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.

With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on his face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You fucking idiot…she thinks.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain he is grinning from ear to ear.

“I won, Dana,” he tells her gleefully. “We’re going to America.”

Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall on those two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.

The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.

“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks in awe.

“Yep. Fucker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts still grinning.

Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America, the Titanic being the ship to take her there.

“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a man beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.

“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, dragging her out of the bar.

They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.

They collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath, and clutching at their tickets.

“Tickets?,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.

“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.

Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just got excited for their new futures only to be turned away at the doors once more.

“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.

The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.

They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.

Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every woman that they walked past and Dana had finally ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.

She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.

“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.

Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face and she laughs, gaining the reaction she was looking for.

The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.

Charlie shares her sentiments exactly: it’s perfect.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.

She stops him before he can claim it.

“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.

“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”

“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”

He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.

Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.

“Hey, Dana?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried?”

Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.

“About what?” she asks.

Silence passes and she waits for an answer.

“Nothing,” Charlie says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”

Despite being profoundly confused, Dana decides not to push it.

Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep. At least that’s what she assumes until she hears his voice again.

“Hey, Dana?”

“What?”

“Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”

A pack flops onto the floor beside his bed.

“Cheers.”

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #titanic au #a jewel beneath the moonlight rewrite #scullysexualwrites