#[[ who let him live this long i will never know ]]

[vxlvted]

pussy drunk!bang chan

pussy drunk!chan who is absolutely addicted to you. the moment he gets a taste, it’s over for him. he would start all slow and controlled, wanting to savor your reactions. but the second you moan his name or tug at his curls, his self control shatter.

he’s sloppy with it, getting so into it, he doesn’t care about how messy he gets. lips and chin completely covered but he loves it. he practically drowns himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

he gets lost in you, moaning against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. when eventually pulls away for air, his voice is breathless, pupils blown wide. “You taste so fucking good, baby” he groans before diving back in like he’s starved.

he’s always talking between kisses, between long strokes of his tongue. whispering how much he loves this, how good you are for him, how he never wants to stops. when you pull his hair or grind against his face—his nose rubbing hard your clit—he whimpers, low and desperate like he’s the one being ruined.

if you try to push him away when it gets too much, he won’t budge. his arms will lock around your thighs, keeping you there as he murmurs “Just one more, baby…. just one more for me.” but it’s never just one more. once isn’t enough. twice isn’t enough. he could spend the entire night between your thighs and still wants more. he’ll kiss his way back up your body, his lips swollen and voice husky and plead, “again?”

he gets smug when your legs start to shake. he open his eyes briefly to watch as you grab at the sheets, his shoulders, your pillow, at anything you can. he loves watching you fall apart for him, because of him. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

and there’s no way he isn’t turned on while doing this. he gets hard from just eating you out. if he has you on your back, he’s grinding into the mattress, into the sheets. if he’s got you sitting on his face, he’s rutting up into nothing, only feeling the slight shift of his sweatpants when his hips thrust upwards. sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he gets embarrassingly close.

If you ever just grab his hair and hold him there, he’s a goner. his moans get louder. vibrating against your folds. I’m a firm believer in Chan being a pleasure dom. he loves making you feel good, that includes you using him for your pleasure.

I’m also a firm believer in Chan having a praise kink. I feel like he’d rather be praised than degraded. the second you call him good—your good boy, good baby—he loses it. gripping your thighs even harder, pulling you closer and working his tongue even faster to make you come undone. He lives for your praise, and he’ll do anything to earn it.

once he’s finally had enough, he’s pressing soft kissing into your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you slow your breathing. he’d be so gentle afterwards, holding you close and whispering how perfect you are, how much he loves you. and if you let him, he’s falling asleep with his head still inbetween your thighs, completely spent but happy.

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[quarterlifekitty]

Thinking about Simon’s girl who sniffed his neglected, insecure, traumatized ass out like a bloodhound and dug in

You remind him a lot of price. Always trying to take in strays, always stubbornly trying to succeed in the jobs where others failed. It just took one look at his apartment when he opened the door— you’d brought a misdelivered package to him— and you locked in.

Suddenly all your meals somehow had doubled portions. Must’ve misread the recipe. You’re accidentally buying little things, not realizing you already had one squirreled away. Any god— once he steps foot in your apartment?

Call that man Sam Puckett the way he’s always at your place and almost forgetting he has his own place he could go to. He can’t help it— you have a full couch with lots of pillows and a knit blanket. The place always smells of something— fresh baking, stir fry, candles, fresh farmer’s market produce. He puts on a little more weight. Stop buying caloriemate. Hair is a little shinier (he’s using your products in the shower, let’s be real). He hasn’t been burned in ages (you always keep sunscreen with you and insist on applying it to his pale skin).

As a child, he knew the burden that he was. Even as his mother loved him, she couldn’t hide every sigh and slump of the shoulders as she damned near went hungry some nights trying to keep him alive while his father’s pay went straight to his tab. It never left him. But you ignore any and all of his attempts to be low maintainence, to take up less resources— you want every rich taste and pleasure of the world that you know to be his as well. And you’re so happy when he lets you give.

It’s never forceful. Just kind. “Try this, honey— I think you’ll like it,” holding a forkful towards him. He forgets to even start asking you out— your relationship blurs so quickly from all the domesticity. You can only ply someone deprived with love for so long before they want to kiss you every day forever. Before he knows it he’s about to meet your fucking parents, palms sweating as he tries to remember how this all came to be— this whirlwind you’ve swept him up in.

But where he expects a shovel talk, he finds none. They reveal, amused, that it’s always been this way with you. Your childhood home was like a clubhouse. None of your friends had stable lives growing up— you just gravitated towards them and wanted them to have everything that you had. Suddenly the way you so speedily co-opted him makes sense. And they’re not the least bit wary of the man with the dark, leering gaze that’s covered in scars and built like a brick shithouse. Because they know your eyes are better than a jewelers lens when it comes to evaluating quality.

That night he keeps excusing himself to the bathroom to try to hold back the tears and collect himself because all of the sudden he knows what a home and a family are supposed to look like, and you all want him to be a part of it. You didn’t take him to meet your parents because you wanted to see that they approved of him— you took him because you wanted to show off how proud you were of your latest find. A fleck of gold among grains of sand. A piece of sea glass, once a sharp, discarded thing now tumbled smooth and kept in your pocket.

Simon likes feeling kept.

[wonderlandcrown]

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒

𝑉𝑖𝑙 𝑥 𝑌𝑢𝑢(𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

a/n : book 5 spoilers, also Vil didn't know Jamil overbloted until book 6. reader is gn and referred to as "Yuu, the prefect, you, they/them pronouns"

genre : light angst, romance(pining)

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛💜♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Someday my prince will come Someday I'll find my love And how thrilling that moment will be When the prince of my dreams comes to me He'll whisper, "I love you" And steal a kiss or two Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil was reluctant to stay in Ramshackle during VDC, "A messy room equals a messy mind", is what he tells his dorm mates. Though he understood that the prefect didn't choose to stay there, Vil Schoenheit was never a fan of unclean spaces.

But Vil had bigger problems at the moment, Neige will undoubtedly show up for the competition, and his dream- no, his goal will be in jeopardy.

The headmage did say that the prefect was quite talented in bringing people together...

Fine then, if staying in a dingy dorm means having a chance at winning against Neige, he'll do it.

"How thrilling, " Vil thought, "will my moment of victory be."

Someday I'll find my love Someone to call my own And I'll know him the moment we meet For my heart will start skipping a beat Some day we'll say, "I do" Things we've been longing to Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil noticed the scars around the prefects hands, undoubtedly the result of going through no less than 3 overblots, not to mention all of them happened under a year!

Vil scoffs, Crowley must be more incompetent than he thought if he allowed a poor defenseless student to get caught up in so much trouble; or is it Yuu who is careless?

He originally saw you akin to something like a pathetic wet cat : lost, clueless, naive.

Though he'll admit he was quite wrong, your occasional sharp jabs towards the trio of potatoes(Ace, Deuce and Grim) didn't go unnoticed by Vil. He thinks you're quite funny, you act so brazenly and sarcastic around your friends but around strangers you suddenly become quiet and well spoken, you remind him of the difference of his personalities on camera and off.

Though that's the only thing he and you have in common.

Vil remembers perfectly well the glare Yuu shot at him when he cursed the delicacies Trey gifted the younger spudlings. It was a necessary measure! You're smarter than your friends, you should understand that they would've tried to break away from the diet Vil gave them.

Vil doesn't understand, he doesn't understand those potatoes, didn't they agree to this? Don't they want to win? If they do they should listen to him, he knows what's best, he's been trained for countless competitions since he was young, these diets, these restrictions have been imposed onto him ever since then and they will be forevermore.

For them, it'll only be a moment before they're back to their normal lives, so why can't they understand? Vil understood ever since he was young, so why can't they?

He's been longing for the chance to stay on stage until the very last moment, so why can't Yuu just do what he says and help those idiots cooperate with him.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, he shouldn't dwell on unnecessary things for too long, lest he stray from his goal.

Somewhere waiting for me There is someone I'm longing to see Someone I simply can't help but adore Someone who'll thrill me forever

"Hey, uh, can we discuss something? "

It was already late afternoon, Epel had screamed at Vil and ran away from the dorm and one of your friends, Deuce, he remembers, ran after him. But they haven't been back.

He lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"What is it?" Vil turns to face you, usually during the breaks between the VDC groups training, you pass around water bottles and some snacks(not cursed by Vil this time). Though this time you carry nothing, it's expected, the rest of the group only have a break because two of the members ran off to who knows where.

"I think you're being too harsh on them. " Vil scoffs, "Excuse me? They're the ones being too careless, they're not serious enough. " Vil glares at you, nose scrunched. You betray his expectations, really, he expected you to be more mature about this.

You only look at him in the eyes as a response, he notices your tense frame, you must've been planning to tell him this for a while now.

"..Epel ran away." Vil lifts an eyebrow, "And? Are you just here to state the obvious?" He hears you click your tongue, you're irritated with him? Why must you be so mean to him, prefect, all he wants is to win, is that so much to ask for?

"Look, I understand your efforts, what you do to achieve your dreams is commendable, really, "

Dreams? How dare you use such a childish word, the Vil Schoenheit doesn't dream, he has no time for that.

"but you need to realize that not everyone can handle, well, you. We want to win, obviously but uh, you're already so accustomed to this type of stuff but we're not.."

Hm? Oh, prefect, you're flattering him, so you're saying that he's so glamorous to the point that the normal spudlings can't even begin to compare?... Vil's kidding obviously, but the compliment has made him more inclined to listen to you.

"Dear prefect, I may see your point.. Though you must realize that diamonds are created under pressure, and the headmage has been far too lenient." You sigh, brows furrowed, "Tell me about it.. Again, you're not wrong, there are limits. Even the seemingly strong gems can crack if they have internal flaws."

My, isn't this new.. Prefect, it's been quite the long time since someone dared to question him, in such an interesting way no less.. Most people either agree with no objections or slander his views vehemently (Rook and Epel, Vil's looking at you) Congratulations are in order for managing to intrigue Vil of all people.

You're confused on why Vil's smiling, so.. fondly at you, did you do something wrong?

"Prefect, if you don't mind, how do you feel about joining my nightly routine tomorrow, I think you have many interesting topics to share with me."

Someday my prince will come Someday I will find the one Though he's far away he'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true Oh, please make my dreams come true

"The winner of VDC is.. ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY, LED BY THE ONE AND ONLY NEIGE LEBLANCHE!"

The crowd cheers endlessly, Vil feels his heart grow heavy with that same, twisting, horrendously ugly feeling of envy. His feet feel like they're on fire and Vil has to pretend the camera flashes are irritating him in order to blink back the tears.

It's ok, it's fine, the loser has to fall and Vil feels like he's been plummeting since then, now, and perhaps forevermore.(please don't let it be so)

It's even worse when Neige pulls him into an encore, his hand pressing on one of the bruises on his arm, a scar gained from his overblot. But Vil's heart only winces when he thinks of you, he thinks of your scars, you must have so many, you've been through so much..

Vil is so, so sorry, he wants to cry and beg for your forgiveness, for Rook's, for Epel's, for everyone's forgiveness. What he did was so stupidly immature, how could he just betray his own expectations, everyone expected Vil Schoenheit to be level headed, mature, and beautiful. So why? Why must he be everything except that?

Everything after his overblot was a blur, really. He thought his career would go up on smoke, everything he worked for would've been gone. Vil stared at his phone, waiting for a ping from his manager, informing him that his overblot, his weakest moment, was leaked for the whole world to see. Vil sits at the vanity, normally he would be staring into his reflection, but now he can't even bear the thought of looking at the mirror.

Suddenly he was met with a knock on his door.

"I'm not expecting visitors, if it's not urgent then go find Rook, or the prefect."

"Vil, I am the prefect."

Vil immediately sits up right, brushing away the few strands of stray hair, before inviting you in. "Come on in."

You quickly slip inside his room, closing the door behind you with a click, Vil tilts his head, usually he would never do this, unbefitting of the mature image of Vil Schoenheit, but since it's you, he finds himself at ease without putting on his performative mask. "I see you want privacy, is it personal?"

"Yeah, I.. wanted to see how you're doing. " Vil doesn't hold back the bittersweet smile, "You really are kind, don't worry about me, you should've ran away when you saw me overblot, why didn't you?"

Why didn't you? You should've ran away the moment you saw blot dripping from his lips and eyes, yet you stayed, you stayed during his overblot and all the others. Vil wants to know, how is one person so caring yet sarcastic, so plain yet so interesting, so normal yet.. Vil feels like he's never met someone like you before.

"Why didn't I? What kind of question is that, the better question is how could I leave a friend during his weakest moments?"

See? Caring yet sarcastic, Vil giggles at your response, "You should know when to stop helping people, dear. One day you'll get irreversibly wounded and there's nothing I could do to help you at that point." Vil's tone is light, though he feels an aching sensation when he imagines a fatally wounded Yuu.

You sigh, taking a step closer to Vil, "I'm not that weak, so don't think of stuff like that." The housewarden of Pomefiore only gives a tired smile, plain yet so interesting, he thinks. You're a magicless being somehow willed with such tenacity that befits the values of the Beautiful Queen, Vil might be inclined to take a few lessons from you.

It takes a while before Vil notices you're staring at him, you look at him as if you were looking at a poor, caged animal. "..Is there something else you want to tell me?" You don't respond, you only continue to look at him, at his clothes, at his hair, then you stare at him in the eye.

Vil feels a lump form in his throat, you're looking at him in such a humane way, not the lovesick expressions usually adorned on his fans, not the scowls of jealousy from the haters. You look at him as if you see something beyond the masks he wears.

Unlike what most people think, Vil Schoenheit actually has two masks, one he adorns when the camera rolls, which from there he has many others to choose from. The second he wears to retain the strict and regal image of Pomefiore, the one who rules this dorm with an iron fist, where he is both hated and loved.(not that much different from his career)

But you, you're looking at none of the two, he never saw anyone else other than his own father and Rook wear this expression. Someone who sees beyond what is presented to them.

"You're tired." Vil finally hears you say something, "I'll go draw you a bath." Your words were authoritative and left no room for arguement, it reminds Vil of himself. As the actor watches you walk into his bathroom he feels a warm sensation course through him, it's been quite the long time since he was the one on the receiving end of these affections.

No, affections is too intimate a word, but Vil can't think of any other way to describe it.

You can't see his expression now, prefect, but do know that you made Vil Schoenheit of all people cover his face to hide his blush and smile. So normal yet Vil's never met anyone else like you.

Vil hears the sound of water flowing coming from the bathroom, he hopes you finish your task soon, Vil has never felt what yearning for another's presence was like until now.

Vil already has his hunter and poison apple, so tell him what you'll be? What role will you take on to complete the Beautiful Queen's camaraderie? Will you be his raven, dutiful, working from the shadows; or his mirror : showing him what you see, beyond what Vil presents himself to be.

Vil shall wait for your answer, prefect.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬

a/n : someday my prefect will come - vil schoenheit. first fanfic tbh, there were pacing issues but I don't think it's that bad for a first timer. reblogs are appreciated

edit : chapter 2(not a continuation of this) is out now, go on my blog and search the tag "the songs of love", also you can tell me in the reblogs or comments if you wanna be tagged for chapter 3

[keraawrites]

Don't play wit' me

Summary: Dealer Eren AU, Eren doesn't play when it comes to you, and you loved how you had him wrapped around your finger. So when you don't get your way one day, no one can blame you for being a tad bit bratty. ۶ৎ Eren x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Drug use, use of the word nigga, tongue piercing, tattoo's, alcohol use, bratty reader, rough sex, oral (m&f), chocking, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys x), pole dancing, degrading, use of word daddy, ma, mama, public sex (?)

Word count — 5.7k

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your brown-stained lips as you watched your man put a gun to some bum ass nigga's head for calling you out of your name.

Everyone who knew Eren knew you. He was the biggest dealer around, not only for his top product but for the fact that he had such great referrals. Eren didn't like strangers until they were vetted by him, Levi, and Connie, so it was strange that Jean had recommended someone to him, but it was even stranger that he let it slide without any background check.

Maybe it was because he was in a good mood after you took his dick in your mouth ten minutes earlier.

You often went along with Eren to his drops and to the trap, so it wasn't strange to see you prancing around. As you were friendly with his boss and the rest of his friends, Eren had no problem bringing you.

But there was a little hiccup. Jean.

Eren never really considered him a friend—God knows why—but he did sell to him, so when Jean brought a guest with him to the trap, all hell broke loose when said nigga called you the trap whore and asked when he could have a turn with you.

The room went silent. Eren’s head snapped toward the guy so fast, before anyone could even process what happened, he had the barrel of his Glock pressed right between the dude’s brows, his jaw tight, emerald eyes glinting with a rage that was barely contained.

"Say that shit again," Eren’s voice was eerily calm, too calm.

Jean took a step back, hands raised. "Eren, chill, bro—"

"Nah, fuck that." Eren cocked the gun, pressing it harder into the guy’s forehead. "You think you can just walk up in here, talk on my girl, and walk out breathing?"

The guy stammered, sweat beading along his hairline. "I-I ain't mean it like that, man—"

"Oh, you ain’t mean it like that?" Eren mocked, tilting his head. "So what the fuck did you mean?"

The whole room held its breath. Even Levi, usually unbothered by anything, shifted slightly in his seat, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. Connie, sitting a few feet away, shook his head with a low chuckle.

He continued to stammer, his tough-guy act completely squashed under Eren’s glare. You sighed, arms crossed, tapping your nails against your thigh as you watched the scene unfold. This wasn’t new. Eren never let disrespect slide, especially when it came to you.

Levi finally spoke up, voice dry. "Eren, we got business to handle. Ain't no point wasting a bullet on some dumbass who won't live long in this game anyway."

Eren didn’t move immediately, his trigger finger twitching slightly. You could tell he was debating it. You wouldn’t stop him if he pulled it—you knew how he was.

Still, you sighed dramatically, shifting in your seat. “Renny,” your voice was soft, lilting, deliberately sweet.

Eren’s shoulders dropped slightly at the sound of your voice. He let out a short breath through his nose before taking a slow step back, lowering the piece.

"Get the fuck out," Eren muttered, voice still deadly.

The guy didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled back, practically tripping over himself as he bolted out the door. Jean lingered for a second, giving you and Eren an unreadable look before following after him.

Eren turned to you, jaw still tight, but his eyes softened just a little. "You good?"

You smirked, reaching up to brush a thumb across his jaw. "Of course. My man handled it."

He let out a small, satisfied hum, pulling you in close, fingers curling around your waist. "Damn right I did."

You leaned in, voice a low whisper. "Still owe me for leaving me hanging earlier."

Eren chuckled, pressing a slow kiss against your lips before murmuring against them, "I’ll make it up to you, baby. In every way you want."

That's how it was. Eren didn't play when it came to you. You want a fresh set? He'd give you more than enough money. You want a new coach bag? He gives you his black card and tells you to go nuts. You want some dick? He'll stop what he's doing and has you crying on his cock before you can think.

So yeah, three years with the man has made you endlessly spoiled—you always got your way.

Your brows were furrowed as you looked down at the text that lit your screen. You were confused, very confused.

'Have to rain check on our date ma, gotta deal with some shit'

You blinked, your fingers hovering over the keyboard—you were a little confused, not knowing how to respond to something you weren't used to.

You pressed the ringer next to his name before you could think. You could hear it ring for a while, anger starting to bubble in your chest, thinking he wasn't going to answer your call.

"Ma, I cant talk—“

You cut him off before he could finish. "What do you mean you have to reschedule?"

You could hear music and shouting in the background but you didn't care, "I got shit to deal with, I'll take you out tomorrow--“

"Eren, no," you snapped, your body shifting in your shared oversized bathtub, your nails tapping against the sides, "I don’t wanna go out tomorrow. I gotta help Mikasa with some shit so I want to go out today, like you promised."

He sighed on the other end. "Ma, don’t start—"

"Don’t start what? Getting upset that my man is ditching me? After I just had a bath with all those essential oils that you like? Had my hair done, nails fresh, bought a tight ass dress that you said would make my ass like fat? And for what? A damn rain check?"

You heard him exhale sharply. "You know I don’t wanna do this, baby, but shit came up. Business. You know how it is."

"Nah, what I know is that I always come first." Your tone was laced with attitude, lips pouting even though he couldn’t see it.

He was quiet for a second, and you could picture him rubbing his temple, jaw clenched. You didn’t care. Eren never told you no. He always made time. So the fact that he was choosing not to right now? Unacceptable.

"Ma—"

"Nope," you interrupted, shifting again as the bubbles rose, your fingers pulling a fresh blunt off your bath table, voice turning syrupy sweet but still full of attitude. "I get it. You got 'shit to deal with.’ So I’ma go find something else to do too. 

"Oi--"

"Byeeee." You hung up the phone, kissing your teeth, you watched as he tried to call you again, knowing he hated it when you cut him off.

You continued to ignore him as you sent Historia and Sasah a text asking if they were still going to the club. The two quickly hit you back with a yes and said they'd swing by to get you in 40 minutes.

You were glad your makeup and hair were already done, you set your bath knowing you liked the dewy look it gave your freshly beat face.

You sighed as you took a drag from the freshly lit blunt that sat between your fingers, letting the smooth smoke curl around your lips before exhaling.

The sound of your phone buzzing again caught your attention, your eyes darting down to the last text you knew Eren would send you for the night.

'Don't play with me'

You felt the hum of the weed running through you as a small smirk pulled on your lips. You opened the message, letting him know you had read it before locking your phone.

By the time you stepped out of the bath, the weed had settled into your bloodstream, leaving you warm and buzzing. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but you could still see the outline of your figure as you slipped into a dangerously low-cut silver dress that showed off your spine tattoo, the fabric hugging your curves like it was made for you.

Biting your lip, you took a quick selfie, your fingers placed gently on your neck, purposely showing off your ring finger that had his name tatted across. Hearing the honk of a car, you licked your lips as you quickly made a post to Instagram, tagging your man before you grabbed your clutch and waltzed out the front door.

C'mre daddy.

The club was already packed when you walked in with Historia and Sasha, neon lights bouncing off your skin, the bass of the music thrumming deep in your chest as you made your way through the crowd.

You were playing with fire; you saw the look of recognition in the bouncer's eyes as he noticed you. You could see the hesitation in him, but with a raised brow, he let you through. You knew Eren would know where you were the minute you stepped into his club.

Yes, his club.

Annie and Ymir were already in the VIP section, waiting, drinks in hand. Annie, ever the minimalist, had on a fitted two-piece, gold jewelry catching the light as she raised her glass in greeting. Ymir, sprawled lazily on one of the couches, smirked at her blonde girlfriend, squeals leaving her lips as she practically pounced on the short-haired brunette.

“About time,” Ymir teased. “Figured Eren had you locked up somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down beside her. “Boy’s acting up tonight. Fucking cancelled on me so here I am--"

"You mean he told you no, so now you're in his club, knowing he probably already knows you're here?"

You smirked, your tongue running along your teeth, the cool metal of your piercing clinking with your pearly whites. Your fingers ran against the rim of the shot glass before downing the tequila.

"Exactly, so let me go shake my ass."

Eren continued to faze out the stupid argument between Connie and Armin as he lazily rolled a blunt between his fingers. He wasn’t paying them much attention; his focus was on his phone, eyes scanning through messages from his men.

At first, he thought he had read it wrong.

Then another text came through.

And another.

"Yo, your girl just walked into the club."

Eren’s brows furrowed.

Nah. No way.

There was no way that you were acting out all because he had to reschedule. Actually, scratch that, that is exactly what you were doing, and he knew he should have seen it coming.

His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing around his phone as more messages popped up.

"She came with Historia and Sasha." "VIP spotted her with Annie and Ymir."

Eren’s grip on his blunt tightened. He was already annoyed as it was—you had hung up on him earlier, ignored his text and calls, and now? You were out, in his fucking club, acting like he wasn’t going to find out?

Armin must’ve noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor because he leaned in. "Something wrong?"

Eren didn’t respond right away, instead unlocking his phone and scrolling through Instagram. He had a feeling—one that was confirmed the moment he saw your post.

"C’mere, daddy."

That picture. That fucking picture.

Your smooth, dark skin glowing under the dim light of your shared bedroom, the silver dress clinging to your curves like it was made for you, the way you placed your fingers just right to show off the tattoo of his name across your ring finger.

Eren’s nostrils flared. His tongue ran across his teeth, that little muscle in his jaw ticking.

Oh, you were real bold tonight, huh?

Armin, still waiting for an answer, gave Eren a skeptical look. "Eren? What is it?"

Eren exhaled sharply, his voice rough. "She’s at the club."

Armin rubbed his temple. "Shit. Annie told me the girls were going out, but she never mentioned—" He trailed off, eyes darting to Eren’s phone. His brows lifted as he took in the post. "Oh."

Eren didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He picked up his keys, and the two followed right behind him.

Connie was grinning like a cat got milk in the back, windows rolled down as he continued to smoke. The speakers blaring with some rap song Armin put on but Eren couldn't care about those two, he was thinking how he was gonna spank your ass raw for acting like a spoiled brat.

He pulled up to the club not that long after; it was no surprise, given how fast he was speeding. Connie dapped the bouncer, but Eren was already pushing through bodies as he entered the club. The atmosphere was thick—sweaty bodies grinding to the heavy bass, flashing neon lights casting everything in deep shades of red and purple.

His eyes scanned the VIP section, his gaze falling on Ymir and Annie. He was getting ready to barge over to them, but he felt it. He felt you.

The green hue of his eyes scanned the crowd until it landed on the cheering crowd, whistling, roaring men, their greedy hands throwing cash towards the stage.

His body went rigid.

He was going to kill you.

Eren’s breath stilled in his chest as his gaze locked onto you, his entire world narrowing down to the sight before him.

You moved with a kind of confidence that made his stomach twist, muscles flexing as you spun around the pole, the silver dress clinging to your curves like a second skin. The fabric barely covered your ass as you dipped low, teasing, taunting, daring.

Eren’s jaw ticked, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

The brunettes jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He could hear Connie mutter a "Goddamn" under his breath, and even Armin, usually the most composed of the three, shifted uncomfortably.

Eren moved slowly, ignoring the two who probably ran off to find their perspective women as he continued to watch you. He wasn't a bitch, but if you could describe what he was feeling it was fucking love, love and hate.

His stomach was a wreck as you worked that pole like you owned it. Eren never forgot how much he loved you even when you pissed him off like today and watching your perfect self make other men hard was how he loved you the most.

He watched as your dark skin gleamed under the dim lights, muscles flexing and moving with every precise motion. You twisted, arching your back just right as your hands traced down your body. Your hips rolled, slow and seductive, before you spun again, gripping the pole with ease, confidence dripping from every movement.

Your eyes—half-lidded, sultry—flicked up, scanning the crowd.

His lips pulled, your gazes locked. His arms crossed as he continued to watch you, noticing the slight hesitation in your movement but you didn't stop.

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience hanging by a fucking thread.

The music was pounding, the crowd cheering, money leaving the hands that reached toward you, but Eren didn’t hear or see any of it.

All he saw was you.

The way you dropped down, ass nearly touching the floor before rising back up, body winding like you were made of liquid.

The way your fingers ran down the length of the pole before wrapping around it again, your tongue swiping along your lips, that teasing little expression still in place.

You watched as he started pushing through the crowd, having had enough of your game, so you thought, why not double down.

Your leg curled around the pole, the cheers loud, your ass facing the crowd as you began to give the crowd a little twerk. The roar of the men around you—the way their hands stretched toward you like they had a fucking chance—

The hem of your dress flapping against your ass was what set him over the edge— well it could have been a number of things but before you knew it you had been dragged off the stage.

The boos of the crowd was drowned out as Eren's tatted hand held a firm grip, almost brusing grip on your wrist as he pulled you towards his back office.

You stumbled slightly as he dragged you through the club, your heels clicking against the floor, but he didn’t let up, didn’t speak, didn’t fucking look at you.

You bit your lip, hiding the smug little grin threatening to form. Oh, he was mad.

But you weren’t stupid. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed against your skin.

The moment he kicked open the door to his office and yanked you inside, Eren slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it before you could get a word out. His hands braced on either side of your head, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

You tilted your chin up, refusing to break eye contact, that bratty little smirk still playing on your lips. "Something wrong, daddy?"

His nostrils flared. "Don’t fucking start with me."

"Start what?" You batted your lashes innocently, running your hands up his chest, feeling how his muscles tense under your touch.

A soft moan left your lips, his tattooed ring-clad hand had wrapped around your throat, you continued to stare up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw tighten, your pussy clenched around nothing as you noticed how dark his eyes got—how angry he was.

Fuck.

"You wanna act up just cause I told you no? I spoil you too god damn much." His voice was low, dark, dripping with restrained hunger.

A whine left your lips, his thumb rubbing against your lips"You always give me what I want, Renny." Your eyes never left his as your lips wrapped softly around the tip of his thumb.

You could barley make out the 'fuck' that he muttered under his breath, eyes hooded, watching the way your soft lips moved. Eren’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might shatter. His thumb pressed down against your tongue, the cool feel of your piercing rubbed against the ridges on his thumb. He watched the way your soft lips wrapped around it, the way your warm mouth sucked just enough to send all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.

His grip on your throat tightened, forcing your head back against the door as he leaned in, his breath hot against your lips.

"I do always give you what you want, don’t I? Treat you like a fucking queen." His voice was low and rough. "That why you think you can get away with this shit?"

Your lashes fluttered, your hands smoothing up his chest, nails grazing over the tattoos on his arm. Your birthday in Roman numerals.

"You don’t tell me no," you whispered, your lips brushing against his thumb as you spoke. "So I don’t know why you thought you could start today."

Eren exhaled sharply, his hand leaving your throat only to grab your chin, tilting your head further back. His eyes burned into yours, that sharp emerald gaze swimming with a hunger that had your thighs pressing together.

"You know what your problem is, ma?" His fingers slid down, his knuckles grazing your pulse. "You think you run this shit. Think you can act up, go out, put on a little fucking show—"

His voice dropped lower, more dangerous.

"—and I won’t remind you exactly who you belong to."

Your breath hitched, pussy throbbing at the way he was looking at you, at the way he was speaking to you.

"You should," you whispered, lips barely brushing against his. "Remind me, I mean."

Eren growled.

His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, spinning you around so your front pressed against the cold surface of his desk. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, pressing you down slightly, just enough to make you shiver.

"You wanna be a fucking brat?" he muttered, his other hand dragging your dress up your thighs, exposing more and more of your soft, glistening skin. "Act up just to get my attention?"

You smirked against the desk, arching your back slightly. "Worked, didn’t it?"

Eren smacked your ass, hard.

A gasp ripped from your throat, your fingers curling against the desk as your skin burned from the contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, smoothing a palm over the spot he just hit before landing another sharp slap, making you whimper. "Worked real fucking good."

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath warm, sending chills down your spine.

"You just love making me mad, huh, baby?" His fingers dipped between your thighs, sliding against the damp lace of your panties, pressing right against the spot that had you trembling.

You couldn’t fucking speak, not when his fingers were right there, not when he was teasing you like this, his voice deep and smug, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"You’re soaked," he hummed, slipping a single finger under the fabric, gliding it through your wetness. "You got yourself this fucking wet dancing for other men?"

You turned your head slightly, your cheek pressed against the desk as you stared up at him, lips parting slightly.

"Nah," you whispered, breathless, needy, bratty. "I got wet thinking about you dragging me back here and fucking me like you should’ve after our date."

Eren’s grip on your neck tightened.

His fingers pressed deeper against your soaked panties, teasing the sensitive bud just enough to make you whimper. "You fucking piss me off," he murmured, voice dark, low.

You turned your head, lips curling into a smirk "You piss me off too Ren," you purred, shifting your hips just enough to grind against his fingers. "But I guess that's why you love me."

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose.

Your panties were ripped off before you could even process it, the lace tearing in his grip before being tossed somewhere across the room. His palm smacked against your bare ass, a sharp sting blossoming where he hit, your thighs twitching at the sensation.

"I spoil you too much."

You hummed, a teasing little sound, looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. "You do."

Eren’s jaw ticked. "Yeah? And this is how you thank me?"

You gave him a little shrug, hips shifting, rubbing your slick folds against the hard outline of his dick through his jeans. "Only want your attention Renny."

Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his lips hovering over your ear.

"You had it the second you walked on that stage," he murmured, voice like gravel.

Eren wasted no more time. His belt clinked, the sound making your thighs clench together in anticipation, your breath stalling as you felt the heat of him pressing against you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you in place as he slid his cock between your slick folds.

Your lips parted, a soft whimper slipping out as he coated himself in your wetness, dragging his length up and down your folds, teasing your clit just enough to make you squirm.

"Eren," you whined, pushing your hips back, desperate for more, for him.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your skin. "Fucking slut, just wanted to be drunk on my cock huh?"

You nodded, moaning softly as he pressed the thick head of his cock right against your entrance, so close, but still not enough.

"Say it," he demanded, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear.

You whimpered, your body trembling with need. "I want to be drunk on you."

He groaned, the sound went staright to your cunt, with one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open, filling you up all at once. A choked gasp tore from your throat, fingers scrambling against the surface of the desk, nails digging into the wood.

"Fuck—Eren!" Your voice broke on the last syllable, your walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to the sudden fullness.

His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your head tilted back, his other hand spreading over your stomach, holding you still.

"You feel that, ma?" he murmured against your ear, voice dark, laced with raw need. "This dick ain’t for nobody else.And you got the nerve to be up there, showing off?"

A moan spilled from your lips as he dragged out of you slowly, the thick length of him pressing against your walls in all the right ways, before he slammed back in, hard enough to make the desk beneath you shake.

"Answer me," he demanded, his palm cracking against your ass, leaving behind a sting that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter.

You whined, gripping the edge of the desk, your body trembling as he set a brutal pace, thrusting into you with deep, punishing strokes that left you breathless.

"I—" You tried to speak, but another thrust had you moaning instead.

Eren clicked his tongue, his grip on your hip tightening, his thumb pressing into the dip of your spine. "Nah, use your words, baby. You had all that attitude before—where is it now?"

Your nails dragged against the desk, your thighs shaking, toes curling in your heels. "Y-you’re right," you finally managed, voice shaky, wrecked. "I was acting up."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but there was no humor in it—just heat. "Damn right you were."

His fingers slid lower, dipping between your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you into the desk.

Your entire body jerked, a whimper tumbling from your lips as your walls clenched around him.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he picked up the pace, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"You know I’d give you whatever you want," he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

You barely processed his words—too lost in the feeling of him, the way he stretched you, filled you, owned every inch of you like he had something to prove.

"Tell me you’re mine," he growled, his hand tightening around your throat, his cock throbbing inside you.

Your lips parted, a desperate little whimper escaping as your body arched against him, surrendering completely. "I’m yours, daddy—fuck, I’m yours."

Eren groaned, his hips slamming into you harder, rougher, deeper.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice strained, wrecked. "You fucking are."

His grip on your throat tightened, his fingers pressing into the sides just enough to make your head swim, your breath hitch. He was so fucking deep, splitting you open on his cock, your walls fluttering around him as he pounded into you, using your body just how he wanted.

"Look at you," he gritted, his voice dark, condescending, dripping with heat. His hand tugged your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, your chest pressing against the cool wood of his desk. "Acting all high and mighty earlier, bratty as fuck— now you can’t even talk. Can’t even think, huh?"

You whimpered, your fingers curling into fists, your thighs trembling as he fucked you hard, each stroke knocking the air from your lungs, pushing you closer to that sweet, devastating edge.

Eren chuckled, low and taunting. "Nah, don’t get quiet now, ma. You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Thought you could act like a fucking slut in front of all those men and not deal with me?"

A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, your pussy clenching around him in response.

Eren groaned, his hips faltering for just a second before he snapped back into rhythm, his grip on your throat loosened just enough for his fingers to slide up, gripping your jaw, forcing your head up.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, tilting your chin towards the dark glass of the office window, the faint reflection of your fucked-out expression staring back at you.

Your lips were swollen, glossy, parted. Your mascara was smudged, your hair a mess. Your eyes—half-lidded, hazy, desperate.

Eren grinned. "Such a fucking mess." His hand slipped between your legs again, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, brutal circles. "You like being fucked like this, huh? Like being put in your place?"

You sobbed out a moan, your entire body trembling.

Eren's grip tightened on your jaw, his fingers pressing into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as he spat onto your tongue.

"Swallow it," he ordered.

And you did. Without hesitation.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching inside you. "That’s my fucking girl."

Your walls clamped down around him, your orgasm hitting you hard, sudden, unforgiving. Your body shook, your moans breaking as your climax crashed over you, pleasure swallowing you whole.

Your breathing became staggered, your vision trying to focus as you came down from your high but Eren had other ideas. Your back, ass now hanging off the edge of the desk, Eren spread your legs wide, his head immediately dipping between your thighs.

A broken moan tore from your throat as his tongue found your clit, pressing against you as he licked slow, teasing circles.

Your body arched, legs trembling, hands scrambling for purchase.

"Eren—fuck, oh my God," you gasped, your hips rolling against his mouth, but he only pinned you down harder.

"Be good," he murmured against you, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you still. "Take it."

And you did. You took it all— the messy, open-mouthed kisses he pressed against your folds, the way his tongue dipped inside you, teasing, curling, before returning to your clit, flicking against it just right.

It was too much. Your body shook, your mind blanked, your breath caught.

"Fuck, Eren, I—"

You came hard, your thighs squeezing around his head as he groaned against you, licking you through it.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. The second your high began to fade, he was already pressing you into the desk, pushing your legs up until they were practically touching your chest. Putting you in a delicious matting press,

A choked moan left your lips as he slid back inside you, stretching you all over again.

His hips snapped against yours roughly, the sound of skin slapping, your wetness, his growls and your cries filling the room.

"Look at you," he taunted, his lips curling. "Fucking ruined. Just. For. Me."

You could barely breathe, let alone talk back. Your fingers dug into his arms, your body jolting with each punishing thrust.

"You gonna stop acting out?" His hand wrapped around your throat again,

"Yes," you sobbed, the lewd sounds of your pussy and moans filled the room, you knew you had made a mess of the desk, knowing if you managed to get a peak you would see your cream all over his cock.

Eren’s tattooed fingers slipped between your bodies, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, making you wail.

"E--rennnn." A desperate, breathless cry tore from your lips, your nails raking down his sweat-slick back as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.

"Yeah, that’s it. Take it."

He angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you trembling, shaking, gasping his name like a prayer.

"You gonna come again, sweetheart? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

You nodded frantically, helpless, wrecked.

"Please—Eren, fuck—please, I—"

"Do it," he ordered, his thumb pressing down harder, rubbing faster. "Come for me, baby"

You shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a fucking tidal wave, your body clenching, spasming, locking up as the orgasm ripped through you.

Eren cursed, his head dropping against your throat, his own breathing ragged, uneven.

"Fuck—good girl," he murmured against your sweat-damp skin, kissing, biting, licking.

You were soaked, trembling, overstimulated, but Eren kept going. His pace never slowed, never faltered. His cock was still thick, still heavy, still throbbing.

And he wanted more.

His fingers dug into your hips, lifting you, pulling you impossibly closer, forcing your bodies flush together as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last aftershock, every last whimper.

"One more," he murmured, almost soothing, almost sweet. "Just one more, baby."

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back as his pace grew. Your legs trembled from how deep he was, how good he was hitting that spot over and over again, like he was trying to imprint himself inside you.

"Fuck, Eren—I can’t—"

"Yes, the fuck you can," he snarled, his grip tightening on your thighs, forcing them higher, pressing you deeper into the desk.

The change in angle had you screaming, arching, gasping his name.

"That’s it," he groaned, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it. Take every inch of this dick like the good fucking girl I know you are."

Your body seized up, pleasure snapping through you like a live wire. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath caught in your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and all-consuming.

Eren felt it instantly. The way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, your body gripping him like a vice, refusing to let go.

His pace turned sloppy, erratic, desperate, his breathing ragged as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own.

Your name tumbled past his lips, over and over, reverent and raw, his forehead pressing against yours as he lost himself, buried deep.

"Fuck—" Eren gritted his teeth, his hands gripping your hips tight, bruising, before he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep, his cock pulsing, twitching, spilling inside you.

The silence between you two was calming, your bodies still pressed together, you moaned softly as you felt him shift in you, he pressed a lazy kiss to your jaw.

Your hands trailed up his arms, fingertips ghosting over the ink covering his skin. You smirked, voice breathless, smug.

"I basically got what I wanted."

Eren could feel his eye twitch, you did his head in but you loved you nonetheless. Huffing a laugh, he bit down on your neck causing you to giggle.

"Too damn spoiled."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[yapperingtinaa]

A box of Gemstones.

Your old Hunter's Watch.

And poor clueless Mephisto.

Three objects placed in the middle of the room, atop a wide red blanket. Three objects with each of its own meaning. And three objects awaiting to be chosen by your innocently curious one-year-old daughter.

"You do realize even if she picks one of these, it doesn't mean it'll eventually determine her future, no?" Sylus mused, eyeing you sitting on the floor across the room from where he sat, his gaze softened at the sight his baby daughter giggling and jumping excitedly in your lap. "Who knows this might end up jinxing us and our daughter became a future Evol Police instead."

"Oh shush you party-pooper." You jested playfully with an eye roll, cooing at your baby daughter sweetly, earning an adorable squeal from the toddler. "There's no harm in indulging in old traditions you know. Even the twins think so too."

As if on cue, both Luke and Kieran whooped in excitement from the living room couch. Both betting which their Mini Boss would choose amongst the three objects on the floor.

"Mini Boss might become a badass hunter like Boss Lady, I bet my life on it she'll pick the Hunter's Watch!"

"Nu-uh! Mini Boss is a baby prodigy! My gut tells me she'd be an awesome engineer by picking good ol' Mephie!"

"And the Gemstones?" Sylus questioned, glancing at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm guessing it'll mean she'll succeed my place in Onychinus?"

"Bingo!"

"Right on, Bossman!"

Sylus shook his head with an amused smile, shooting you a look that read 'you believe in this?'

You let out a hearty laugh, shrugging nonchalantly as you gave your baby daughter one last squeezing hug before slowly placing her in front of the three objects.

Despite his neutral expression, Sylus waited with bated breath as his daughter slowly inched forward towards the three objects. His little daughter's eyes shine with an innocent twinkle, her small body crawling forward and for a moment, time still around them.

This tradition, the Zhuazhou ceremony, it shouldn't be this nerve-wracking as Sylus should've expect. But he'd be lying if he wasn't both curious and scared for the future of his precious daughter.

There's no doubt Sylus will support his daughter through whatever she wants for as long as she grows up. Even if one day they might argue on certain value, beliefs and whatnot. But by God, Sylus prayed it would never have to take a turn for the worse where the father and daughter end up against one another.

The thought of that kind of future would filled him with nothing but pure dread.

Multiple surprise gasps pulled Sylus out of his muddle thoughts as he was just in time to see his little daughter pushing the three objects away (whereas a relieved Mephisto flew away in an instant) and crawled towards him.

"Pa! Pa!" His daughter beamed brightly, reaching her chubby arms out to her stunned father. Her giggles echoing through the sudden quiet atmosphere and Sylus instantly picked her up into his arms, his heart swelled with affection when his baby daughter nestled into the warmth of his hold.

Luke and Kieran didn't even have it in themselves to feel disappointed when their Mini Boss didn't pick their chosen items. The heartwarming sight of their fearsome leader becoming such a gentle soul around his daughter made them hold back their tears - It was one of those rare moments where they got to witness their Bossman look so vulnerable, so loving and so.. human.

And it was a moment both of them silently agreed not to ruin, especially for you as the twins watched you quietly tiptoed across the room to sit beside Sylus.

"Looks like our Little Dove can't choose a future without her papa in it." Sylus finally tore his gaze from his daughter at the sound of your voice just as you laid your head on his shoulder. You smiled softly up at the awestruck daze in Sylus's eyes, your finger playfully yet gently poked his cheek. "Now you have one less thing to worry about, my dear."

Sylus blinked in surprise, before letting out a small shaky chuckle. One arm holding his snuggling little daughter while the other arm wrapped around your waist - pulling both you and his daughter closer into his embrace.

"Yeah.. I suppose so." Sylus murmured quietly, a tender smile graced his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss on his little daughter's forehead and then another kiss on your cheek, laughing softly as two of his beloved treasures returned the gesture of the affection tenfold, happy laughter and cheers reverberated in the cozy living room.

Whatever the future may hold, for now, the present moment should be savored more than dwelling on uncertainty.

And at that moment for Sylus, it is what he needed the most.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Serious Oblivious Dating Trope

AKA "Damian thinks flirting/dating entails a lot more violence than the average person and Danny's confused as to why this vigilante keeps prepositioning him for battles" idea!

Okay, so, I know Damian went to live with Bruce when he was still a kid, 10 or something, but what if he joined the Batfam when he was older? Like imagine he's had an entire childhood and adolescence in the League of Assassins, so he's raised in this culture of being The Best (i.e., strongest fighter, intelligent and knowledgeable, etc.). And maybe the LoA typically follows the tradition of arranged marriages, but you may court someone if they're seen as an equal. Talia with Bruce, for example. And!! It's not courting like the "sweet serenading, fan-fluttering, going for a walk in a park with a chaperone" Bridgerton-type courting.

In the League of Assassins, you court by battling your intended's guardian to the death.

So, fast-forward to Damian learning how to assimilate into Gotham city culture. He still struggles to learn his place in the Batfam, but he's older and has a better grasp on his emotions; no trying to kill Tim, no constant threats of death and dismemberment, no jealously protecting the title of Heir. He's... kind of like Bruce actually. Damian is scarily competent, logical, and level-headed but super intense.

Danny, who's been living in Gotham for awhile and has gotten to know the Batfam fairly well, meets the newest addition while on patrol. Let's say he's still Phantom but cosplays as a Meta. Bruce let him stay in Gotham because he's a sucker for a black-haired, blue-eyed, abused kids.

Their introduction goes about as well as the Batfam expects. Damian is all business, only offering a quick nod and his name before returning his focus to patrol. Danny's maybe a bit taken aback but doesn't take it too personally since he'd already been given the rundown by Tim.

Damian and Danny end up patrolling together while Batman and Cass investigate some lead by the docks or something. Their night turns pretty badly when Clayface attacks. Damian ends up being the damsel in distress since he's only ever faced human enemies; even the deadliest opponents in the League could still be killed using swords or the usual combat weapons. Danny ends up using his powers to defeat Clayface before Batman can come back.

And then Danny goes home, content that he was able to let loose a little without Batman there to supervise him, and doesn't think about it after. Damian, however, is downright enamored because Danny was terrifying while fighting. His movements were lupine like a panther, a comfortability in his posture that spoke of decades in combat; his eyes turned Lazarus Pit green, chilling in its intensity. His skin took on a ghostly pallor and Damian could've sworn his teeth sharpened. He looked like a deity of War.

(Danny doesn't know this, of course; he was just happy to enjoy a really good fight since he hasn't unleased his Full Ghost powers in a long minute.)

A couple weeks pass and Danny's invited to a Wayne family dinner. Except when he shows up, Damian - who he thought he'd kind of bonded with since he'd literally saved the guy from Clayface - tries to kill him. Straight up: full assassin regalia, recently polished sword, genuinely throwing his all into the battle.

The Batfam try to intervene but Damian easily (and painfully, as Jason was flipped face-first into a table, Steph was stabbed, Dick broke his elbow) fought off. In the end, it was Danny who froze Damian and yelped a frazzled, "What the fuck, dude?" Bruce agreed to dethaw his son if he never, ever drew his sword at the dinner table again and explained why in the world he randomly attacked Danny unprompted.

Except Damian's response is to apologize and formally proposition Danny to a "battle to rights"... and the Batfam are all like, wtf?? What is that?? They're thinking maybe the rights to the Wayne inheritance, but Danny was never adopted by Bruce (he'd had enough of millionaires trying to adopt him so he'd politely declined all the Batfam's attempts to rope him into the family; Dick, Babs, and Jason of all people included).

The thing is that Danny's parents disowned him, he doesn't consider Vlad to be his guardian, and Jazz isn't really in the picture here. Bruce isn't considered his adopted father figure, either. So, Damian concluded the next reasonable course of action was to fight Danny for his right to marry him.

Cue months of hilarious misunderstandings where the Batfam try to keep Damian separated from Danny since he keeps trying to fight him... and worse, is that Damian loses every damn fight. Danny has non-human powers and endless knowledge of dead languages, cultures, space, history, etc. Damian likes him so, so much but he can't win the battle to rights and it's driving him insane!! He calls his mother to vent his frustrations and she only encourages him, tells him that he shouldn't want to marry someone he can beat so easily, that he picked his intended well.

It gets to the point where Damian's trying to use any and all knowledge of Danny's weaknesses. It just makes him more obsessed because there doesn't seem to be any (there are, but they aren't on Earth and/or are locked down in the Fenton Works labs, untraceable to anyone not in the GIW).

And Danny's just like, what the hell!! Why the hell is this guy targeting him over and over again? The worst part is that Damian is actually very intelligent and thoughtful - during their duels, they quip back and forth in ancient languages, discuss thought-proving topics, and when Danny beats him, they have a quiet moment to compliment each other's fighting styles. They discuss ancient history and art together. Damian is one of the few people who can actually match Danny's odd tidbits of random knowledge, as he'd been extensively educated while in the LoA.

Finally, Danny just asks, "Why do you keep trying to fight me?? Do you just hate me or something??" (He hopes not. Danny's starting to like Damian a bit too much, especially after their fights when Damian offers to cook him some of Alfred's most popular recipes. Danny's a terrible cook so he actually looks forward to having a surprisingly good meal, sans the attempted poisoning at times.)

And Damian just... stops. He's utterly flabbergasted and perhaps a little bit exasperated since it's been months of being unable to win the battle to rights. "Why would I request to court you if I hate you, habibi?"

Danny's like, "Huh???"

Damian explains how courting works in the LoA and why it's been on-sight ever since the Clayface fight. And everything just clicks for Danny!! He's also kind of... flattered? Like, he's never been wanted so badly that someone would fight to the death for him (Danny's just like "he's confused but he's got the spirit!" about the whole "if Danny doesn't have a guardian, I'll just fight him instead" logic).

So, he's like, "Of course, I'll date you!!"

It'd probably be an adjustment period since Damian's idea of a romantic date is watching his boyfriend go Full Ghost on supervillains. He'd just be heart-eyeing at him the entire time. And it's not like Danny's not having a good time!! He just expected there'd be more date-night activities and less patrol-night activities. So, Danny introduces Damian to more "regular" hobbies, like going to the zoo, movie nights, bookshop dates, etc.

(another side idea in my head is Damian introducing Danny to Talia and Ra's al Ghul, like, "This is Danny Fenton, my intended." But Danny is decked out in his Ghost King attire, crown included, and introduces himself as King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead. Meanwhile his boyfriend is just looking at him with this look of utter besotted lovesick pride. There's so much potential!!)

[euphoria-looney]

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option. 

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward. 

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point. 

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?” 

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?” 

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up,  you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him. 

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.” 

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it. 

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.” 

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off. 

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

[brawberryz]

confessions of a rotten girl

Batfam Yan! × Rotten Girl! Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / Don't take this shit seriously, it's just a shitpost

Tw: Yandere behaviors, invasion of privacy, mention of porn, slight mention of masturbation, religious themes, reader is literally a gooner lol

Rotten Girl! Reader who lived they whole life in a religious family before moving in with Bruce, they biological father

Rotten Girl! Reader who had they life change as soon as them discovered the world of the Internet and more importantly...yaoi

Rotten Girl! Reader who leads a huge group of yaoi fans on tumblr and other social networks

Rotten Girl! Reader who goes to confession every day and prays for they addiction to end, too bad they impure thoughts are stronger

Rotten Girl! Reader who spends they time shipping batman × joker, having a tumblr account where they writes fanfics of them

Rotten Girl! Reader who secretly buys racy yaoi manga, it's very difficult to hide them from alfred when he cleans your room

Rotten Girl! Reader that your brothers thought you had a secret boyfriend because of your behavior, they couldn't let anyone get you out of their side so they decided to enter your room without you knowing, big was everyone's surprise when they found thousands of pornographic volumes of men fucking

That day their perception of you changed a bit

Rotten Girl! Reader that they seem more interested in watching men fucking than having a boyfriend or a social life, although that doesn't bother your family as long as you stay by their side And you never leave they will try to tolerate your weird behavior

Rotten Girl! Reader that spent hours arguing on the Internet arguing why Superman × Batman is canon

Rotten Girl! Reader that spends most of the time in they room doing gooner stuff, once them almost threw they computer out the window when alfred entered they room without knocking while them was in a session of ahem ahem

Rotten Girl! Reader that not even his siblings are safe from being shipped, Richard can still remember that time where you spent hours explaining to him why he and Wally would make a good couple

He only listened to you because you're his little sibling and he loves hearing your voice, plus you rarely talk to anyone in the family

He'd probably spend the whole week bragging that you talked to him for more than 2 hours, the others were a little jealous about that

Rotten Girl! Reader that they nose for some strange reason always bleeds when them excited, although no one should know that last bit so you just excuse yourself by saying you have a nosebleed

Rotten Girl! Reader that they heart broke when them found out they father was Batman, them wasn't sad because he was Batman but because that meant he was in a relationship with Selina and Talia

And that means your ship opt of Superman × Batman/ Batman × Joker would never be canon

Rotten Girl! Reade is too dumb to notice them family's yandere behaviors since them too busy writing fanfics about they ships opt

Rotten Girl! Reader who is the most cringe person you'll ever meet

I know this isn't a long story like the others I write, but I'm too lazy to write a full story

This shit is too cringe

[satocidal]

Where Suguru Geto is a Man who has lived around all women<3

tw: i am not trying to thrust any stereotypes here 😭 just thought these are cute lil thoughts

Geto Suguru, who has mastered the art of being one of your "Girlie-Pops" - it is his every-day routine now, and Suguru Geto makes sure to live through all different personas of being your “girlie-pop”, huge believer of go big or go home.

There is the usual Gossip-Girly, every night Suguru plops beside you, acting as your personal pillow while you go on one of your typical tangents - and he knows all his cues. At every bated pause he’ll gasp and at every undulated twist he’ll throw in a - “oh no, she didn’t” or a little, “that bitch”. The gossip girl never disappoints, nor forgets - you can pick up any story from anywhere and he’ll just flow along, often even adding his own comments and/or facts from his research.

The second most-spotted is the The Mom, a key feature to the days when you skip breakfasts (that he meticulously made) or come home hours later than expected. The Mom never lets any detail skip, throwing in little jabs while taking care of you at the same time - he makes sure you’re rested and living in full guilt for making him worry for you. Dramatic muttering under his breath, such as while he works in the kitchen are NOT off the table.

There is always space in Suguru’s week to pull-off a little "The Fangirl" for your sake. These could range from simple pick-me-up moments to just a midnight-spur-off-the-moment thing. Suguru will sing through each one of your favourite songs along with you (and get most lyrics wrong, sometimes purposefully to tease you) - at the top of his lungs. He will stay up with you till however long if your favourite band was announcing something new, or to get tickets, or just to watch a marathon of youtube videos about whatsoever pleased you.

Although Suguru may seem like a totally chill guy on surface, somehow he stresses almost as much as you during your exams, with you - giving rise to The Nerd. The first time he pulled out his glasses and messy bun, and pulled out the look better than you, you were offended. But, he does try his best. Flashcards? He’ll even decorate them all pretty, questionnaires? He’ll come up with games to help you get  eased with them, he will wake you up at whatever ungodly time you beg him to, and sit with you through revisions, with all his drowsy might. And best of all, he will confuse you if you try and get help from him with a subject regarding science because poor baby struggles with basic addition </3 (he does call Satoru for the help though)

However right after your exams are over, Biker Bae takes over and he gets wild (The Mom inside him does not approve), but he will take you on long drives on his bike - he will get you drunk because he finds your babbling adorable and he believes you need all the escape from stress you can get, this Suguru does not care. He will break rules, he will urge you to do the same.

Sometimes, a wild Sassy Susan is also spotted in the wild, especially during fights. This Suguru will make you shut up, even if just for a moment, and is all about eye-rolls and sly little comebacks that you notice all too late. Do not assume for a second that you are safe, he will call out all your bull-shit and also flick his hair, will do all the storming away and point all his fingers at you.

And this finally gives rise to the Boyfriend Suguru , who then begs after you and apologises for hours and promises to bury Susan somewhere deep (it will happen again). Suguru now has to perform all the previous tasks all together but he enjoys all of it so it is a win-win, isn’t it?

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[aventurineswife]

Reader flinches during an argument😩🤚

You cna make it just flinching or them actually accidentally hurting reader, whatever you're more comfortable with

Characters: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Kaveh and Therta (get it? Cuz The Herta can be shortened to Therta... haha... ha)

Trust Reforged in the Quiet

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Emotional Vulnerability, Arguments, Flinching Reaction, Apologies, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Communication, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Emotional conflict, Raised voices, Accidental intimidation, Mentions of guilt and emotional vulnerability. (No physical harm or abuse.)

A/N: yeah... I totally got it, ahahaha.. ha 🧍‍♀️

The peaceful glow of the Luofu was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan. The General stood in his study, his eyes fixed on you, frustration flickering behind their usual calm. The argument had started small, but it spiraled into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“You don’t understand the weight of these decisions,” Jing Yuan said, his tone sharper than usual. “Every action has consequences—not just for us, but for the entire Alliance.”

“I’m trying to help you!” you shot back, voice trembling. “But you keep shutting me out like I’m just an outsider!”

Jing Yuan ran a hand through his long hair, visibly exasperated. “It’s not about shutting you out—it’s about protecting you. Don’t you see that?”

When he suddenly stepped closer, his voice louder than before, you instinctively flinched, taking a step back. His eyes widened, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Wait…” His voice softened. “Did you just flinch?”

You looked down, ashamed. The moment hung heavy in the air. Jing Yuan’s heart ached at the sight of you retreating from him, and he cursed himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his judgment.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his hands hovering before dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step back himself, giving you space. “I would never hurt you.”

You hesitated before nodding, your eyes still wary. Jing Yuan took a deep breath, his usual calm returning. He walked to his desk, retrieved a cup of tea, and set it down in front of you.

“Let’s talk—properly this time,” he said, his voice steady but laced with remorse. “I want to listen to you, truly.”

And for the first time that evening, you felt safe enough to let him in.

The opulent office felt suffocating as Aventurine paced back and forth, his normally suave demeanor unraveling. You had challenged one of his high-stakes decisions, and he hadn’t taken it well.

“You think I didn’t calculate the risks?” he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “You think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing?”

“I’m saying it’s dangerous, Aventurine!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You can’t keep gambling with people’s lives like this!”

His eyes burned with frustration. “You don’t understand the game I’m playing! Every move I make is—”

When he spun to face you, gesturing emphatically, you flinched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The slight recoil stopped Aventurine mid-sentence. His hand, frozen mid-air, dropped to his side.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, his voice came out softer, almost unsure. “Did I… scare you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was answer enough. Aventurine’s usually confident mask cracked, revealing the guilt underneath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual bravado. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

You crossed your arms, your voice shaky. “I just want you to see that I care, Aventurine. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

He chuckled dryly, his smile weak but genuine. “It seems I’m the one who needs a reminder of that sometimes.” He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours. “Can we try this again? No shouting this time.”

You nodded, and as he led you to sit beside him, the gambler seemed determined to show you he was more than just his sharp words and risky strategies.

The gentle hum of the Astral Express felt distant as you and Dan Heng faced off in the library. He rarely raised his voice, but tonight, his frustration was palpable.

“You can’t just rush into danger like that!” Dan Heng exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically forceful. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was trying to help!” you defended, equally upset. “You always act like I can’t handle myself!”

“Because you don’t see the risks!” He stepped forward, his hand clutching his spear. “What if something had happened to you? Do you think I could—”

When his voice rose further, and his spear clinked against the floor as he adjusted his grip, you flinched, taking a step back. Dan Heng immediately froze, his sharp eyes widening in realization. The air grew heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He set his spear down, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to… I would never—”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with guilt. “I lost control. That’s on me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself to sit on the edge of the table, his posture uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t want to push you away. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

You hesitated before stepping closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared too, but we need to face this together. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He nodded, his usual calm slowly returning. “You’re right. I’ll… do better.”

In that moment, you saw the real Dan Heng—not the stoic guardian, but the man who carried the weight of the past and feared losing the one person who made him feel safe.

The grandiose living room of Alhaitham's home felt oppressive as your argument with Kaveh escalated. He stood in the middle of the room, his expressive eyes alight with frustration. You had challenged one of his decisions, and his idealistic nature didn’t take it lightly.

“You don’t understand what this means to me!” Kaveh exclaimed, his voice shaking. “I worked my entire life to make a difference through my designs! And now you’re questioning that?”

“I’m not questioning your work, Kaveh,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m worried about you! You’re pushing yourself too hard, taking on too much—”

“Because I have to!” he shouted, his hands flaring in an animated gesture. “If I don’t, who will? Do you think anyone else cares as much as I do?” He stepped closer, his tone growing sharper as he continued. “Stop acting like you—”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking a small step back as his voice rose and his movements became more animated. The action stopped him in his tracks, the weight of the moment crashing down around him like a crumbling structure.

His arms dropped to his sides, and his face fell. “Did… did I scare you?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet and laced with regret.

You didn’t reply immediately, your throat tight with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kaveh shook his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone filled with self-reproach. “This isn’t on you. I… I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes filled with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel unsafe.”

“Kaveh…” you began, your voice softening.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his hair. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Again. It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

You stepped forward hesitantly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying, Kaveh. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

He looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just… I don’t know how to let go. But I don’t ever want to hurt you, not even by accident.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “But you need to let yourself rest, Kaveh. Let yourself breathe.”

He nodded slowly, his usual dramatic flair subdued by the gravity of the moment. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll try. For you.”

And as the tension eased, you saw in his eyes the vulnerability he often tried to mask with passion and idealism—a man who cared so deeply, it sometimes consumed him.

The sterile halls of Herta’s spaceship echoed with the sharp edge of your argument. Herta stood before her console, her fingers tapping impatiently on its surface as she glared at you.

“Do you even understand the magnitude of what I’m trying to achieve here?” she asked, her tone biting. “This isn’t just some experiment—it’s a breakthrough!”

“I do understand,” you replied, your voice raised. “But you’re so focused on the outcome that you’re ignoring the risks!”

Herta’s eyes narrowed as she whirled around to face you, her movements swift and deliberate. “Risks are inevitable in science! If I stopped every time something was dangerous, we wouldn’t even have the Simulated Universe! You—” She gestured sharply, stepping closer as her voice grew louder.

The suddenness of her movement made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as you instinctively stepped back. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Herta froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in realization.

She stared at you for a long moment, the tension in her posture dissipating. “Wait… did I just… scare you?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.

You looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Herta shook her head, her usual detached demeanor cracking. “No, it’s not fine,” she said, setting her clipboard aside. “I might be a genius, but that doesn’t give me the right to… intimidate you like that.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the remorse in her tone. “Herta…”

She crossed her arms, avoiding your eyes as she spoke. “I get so caught up in my work, I forget about the people around me. I’m sorry.” She sighed, her sharp wit returning slightly. “It seems even I have room for improvement.”

You chuckled softly despite the tension. “You think?”

She smiled faintly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll explain everything properly this time—no yelling, no dramatics.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’d like that.”

As she guided you to her desk, the usual confidence in her demeanor was tempered by a quiet sincerity. For the first time, you saw the side of Herta that wasn’t just a genius or a scientist, but someone who valued your trust more than any experiment.

[bubbleggum444]

—❝TℍE LE꓄꓄ER❞

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis a letter filled with sweet compliments from damian leaves youtuber!reader eager to find him. pt 4 of "unexpected crush?!"

"Dear, ___. My name is Damian Wayne..."

As you read the letter over and over, a whirlwind of emotions surged through you—curiosity, warmth, and something dangerously close to flattery.

Two weeks after posting on your forum about accepting gifts, four arrived. Excited, you unwrapped each one on camera, recording your live reaction for your followers.

Sitting cross-legged, hair braided, face bare, you held his letter in trembling hands. The more you read, the more you found yourself stealing glances at the camera lens, cheeks growing impossibly warmer.

"You're pretty and kind."

Ba dum ba dum

"Your videos make me feel calm and happy."

Ba dum ba dum ba dum

"But what makes me the most content is watching the way your eyes sparkle. And it makes my own sparkle, too. Your sweetness is infatuating."

Ba dum ba dum ba dum ba dum—

That was it. The breaking point.

Leaping out of your chair, you shut off the camera with a sharp click.

—

"This boy likes me. Like—like likes me!"

You looked down at the small cat stamp adorning the envelope, its tie patterned with the American flag. A smile graced your lips.

Spinning toward your vanity, you let out a breathless laugh, unable to ignore the ridiculous blush staining your cheeks. (Hyperpigmentation is a curse, you thought.)

Lightly, you patted your face, willing yourself to calm down. If your nosy family caught you fangirling over a fan, you'd never live it down. Especially your older sister. (Sisters, am I right?)

Damian Wayne. USA. Gotham.

With that information, you opened Instagram. Come on... something... anything!

Two painfully long minutes later, you hadn’t found him, but you had found his older brother.

Oh boy, was this dude active.

Real_D_Grayson

With over 100k followers, he seemed to enjoy showing off—abs, acrobatics, and adventures galore. But one pinned post caught your attention: a picture of him standing beside a boy with piercing green eyes and olive skin.

Oh. My—

Your fingers frantically tapped at the mouse, opening the description.

"With baby bro, Dami. It's chest day, baby 😎"

Dami... Damian. Of course.

The sweaty boy in the photo, slightly scowling at the camera, was the same one who had written words that made your knees weak and turned your face as red as a strawberry.

"Come on, faster, faster, you stupid internet!" you muttered, impatiently clicking on the tagged profile.

As the page loaded, a small smile tugged at your lips.

dw_00___

"Dude, I never would've found your account. If you like me, at least drop your Insta next time." You rolled your eyes playfully, muttering to yourself over the young Wayne’s lack of foresight.

Biting your bottom lip, you hovered over the 'Follow' button.

Click.

—

An Instagram notification buzzed through the air during the Wayne family’s dinner.

"What now?" Damian sighed, agitated, as the entire table turned to look at him.

"If it’s you, Grayson—sending me those pointless acrobat reels or whatever again—" he shot a glare at his older brother.

"Don’t look at me, baby bird, I’m playing pool." Dick held up his phone in defense, proving his innocence.

Still puzzled, Damian checked his notification bar. And then—

___ just followed you!

A lump of air caught in his throat. He coughed, covering his mouth as he clicked on the profile.

It was you.

His brain stalled.

How did you find his account?

How could he have been so careless as to not include his username in the letter?

How could he—

"Follow her back already."

A quiet voice snapped him out of his spiral. Cass shot him a knowing wink, her eyes shifting to her younger brother, who was inwardly panicking.

She nodded toward his phone again, subtly urging him before the rest of the family caught on.

Damian exhaled sharply, schooling his expression as he quickly hit ‘Follow Back.’

Sliding his phone into his pocket, he reached for his napkin, pretending to cough into it.

But really, he just needed to hide his reddening face from his ever-curious siblings—and his father.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

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🏷️;

@liabiamiakiawia @jason-todd-fangirl-14

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@riaaavm  @queenofviolenceandnerds

★

author's note 1: another chapter done :> next one's probably this friday ahead

author's note 2: also making the jason ff

author's note 3: and I made a dick grayson one, should i post it?

author's note 4: i also make bots on c.ai, send me req for characters in my tumblr req :)

author's note5: this is how i imagine reader when she was in front of the mirror btw, ty hendry for the inspo.

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[pickingupmymercedes]

The Weight of Saudade - Lewis Hamilton

genre: fluff with hints of angst

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Brazilian!Reader!

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Axé inspired fic because I'm missing Brasil. If you want to check the song it's Nobre Vagabundo sung by Daniela Mercury.

a/n 2: Axé is in iorubá (african language), it means the light in every living being, and it's used in a few parts of Brasil as a greeting. But it's also a brazilian rhythm with some of the most angsty gorgeous lyrics on love, even with its upbeat feel (my favourite cup of tea tbh)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Time never asks if you’re ready as it goes on.

It just slips through your fingers, quiet and indifferent, moving forward whether you’ve had enough of the moment or not.

Ironically, I’ve spent quite a while thinking about that; how much of my life is spent watching the clock, counting down days until Lewis comes home, then counting down again until he has to leave.

It’s a cruel kind of math, measuring love in stretches of time apart instead of time together.

London is dull this time of year. Grey, drizzly, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again.

Lewis, though, is warmth is human form.

His weight is solid against me, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my sweater where his head rests on my lap. His braids tickle my fingers as I absently trace circles at the nape of his neck, just over the tape covering his muscles, stiff from testing.

It’s been nearly a month of him in Maranello, and sure, I flew out when I could—weekends, stolen days between meetings—but it wasn’t the same.

I felt it every time I left, the cold settling each time I packed my bag to fly back. And now that he’s finally here, draped across me in the soft, lazy light of a London afternoon, I don’t want to move.

Outside, the rain taps soft against the soil. I watch it run down the glass, curling my toes under the blanket spread over us.

Without even thinking, I start humming, letting a familiar melody slip past my lips.

Lewis shifts slightly, one hand resting on my thigh as his phone buzzes against his palm. He doesn’t say anything at first, just listens, and I’m halfway through the chorus before I feel his fingers slide over mine.

“What’s that you’re singing?” His voice is thick with the sleepiness of finally being back in his own space after too long away.

Damn. I was not prepared for a pop quiz on my own nostalgia

“It’s, uh—” I clear my throat, buying time. How the hell am I supposed to translate this? It’s axé. You don’t explain axé; you feel it. “It’s a song,” I say, extremely helpfully.

Lewis laughs, turning his face slightly so I can see his smirk. “Yeah, babe, I figured that much.” His thumb is still sweeping over my hand, coaxing, patient.

I groan. “I mean, it’s—okay, hold on.” I take a breath. “It’s kind of about time. And love. And—” I make a vague gesture with my free hand— “you know. Life.”

He tilts his head up to look at me. “That’s vague as hell.”

“Because it is vague as hell,” I huff, but he just waits, smiling like he knows I’ll give in. Which, fine. I always do.

I hesitate for a second. Not because I don’t want to tell him, but because some things always sound different when you strip them down to another language.

More vulnerable.

And It’s funny—if I were talking to someone who knew the language, I wouldn’t even have to explain. They’d just get it. But here, with Lewis watching me so intently, I feel like I have to get it exactly right.

“Alright” I shake my head, but my fingers are still in his hair, softening the edges of my reluctance as search the song on my phone and let it play.

I start translating it as the song plays in the background. “How much time do I have… to kill this saudades?”

His brows draw together slightly. “Saudades” He rolls the word around his mouth like he’s tasting it again.

I nod. “My love, this jealousy—it’s just vanity. If you run away, time will soon bring anxiety. To breathe love, aspiring freedom.”

I peek at him, half expecting him to be confused, but he just nods, his expression open. So I go on, the words thick in my throat.

“I have a crazy life… and try to lead the world. I live from deep love. I perish in time. And I live for a second. Forgive me, my love, for being this noble vagabond.’”

Silence stretches between us for a moment, just the hum of the song, rain and the city outside.

And the quietness makes me feel absurdly self-conscious. I mean, I just translated a whole damn song in a overcast London afternoon to a man who knows about 5 words in Portuguese.

Lewis, as always, doesn’t let me sit in it too long. He squeezes my hand gently. “That’s beautiful” he murmurs.

I exhale, rolling my eyes a little, but he doesn’t let me dodge.

“It’s on wanting time to slow down” I say after a moment. “So you can actually be in it. So you don’t have to spend half of it missing what’s not even gone.”

Lewis watches me, his gaze steady in that way that makes me feel like he sees through my ribcage. “Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s one of the many meanings of saudades.”

His lips curve. “One of my favorite words I’ve learned from you.”

I smile, tilting my head. “Yeah, and what’s the second?”

His fingers tighten slightly over mine before answering in the most Rio de Janeiro accent you’ve heard in years. “Gostoso” (hot as in attractively hot)

And you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as he smirks “Oh, shut up.” I flick his forehead, but he just laughs, eyes crinkling.

His face then softens, and he nods like he gets it. Like it makes perfect sense. “It always gets me how y’all manage to fit the deepest feelings in two paragraphs.”

I laugh, breathy and real, shaking my head. “It’s a skill.”

Lewis’ gaze darkens, his thumb stroking along my skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I get the feeling.”

I glance down at him, not even letting the words settle before I say them “I’m already with saudades of the time I’ll have to be away from you.”

But as soon as I say it I can’t the sigh, shifting slightly underneath him. “It’s stupid, right? We’re here. You’re home. And I’m still thinking about the next time you’ll have to leave.”

Lewis turns fully onto his back now, looking up at me. “It’s not stupid.” His voice is quiet, firm. “I think about it too.”

I don’t say anything for a second, just run my nails lightly over his scalp. “Ferrari’s making you happy, though,” I say, because it’s true. He’s been buzzing about it for weeks, despite the grueling testing schedule, despite the stress. And I love that for him. I do.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. It’s been good. Crazy, but good. The car feels promising. And Maranello’s…” He trails off, exhaling. “It’s a dream, honestly.”

I smile, brushing a braid back from his forehead. “See? Worth it.”

His fingers find mine again. “Yeah. But still.” He lifts our joined hands slightly. “I always feel saudades of being away from you.” His smile tilts. “Did I use that right?”

A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Almost.” I brush a finger on his cheek. “But the feeling is right.”

Lewis hums, pleased with himself. His other hand slides up, pressing against my ribs, a slow, absentminded caress. “So what do we do about it?”

I sigh theatrically. “Dunno. Run away to Brazil. Hide out somewhere warm.”

His grin is immediate. “Sold.”

I roll my eyes, but his fingers tighten at my side, tugging me down slightly. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, voice lower now, lips brushing just beneath my jaw. “Just me and you, yeah?”

My breath catches for half a second.

God, this man.

I tip my head, letting my nose brush the top of his ear. “Just me and you” I whisper.

Lewis hums in agreement, tracing lazy circles on my wrist with his thumb. Then, after a moment, he tilts his head back at me, smirking “You’re gonna have to translate funk to me one day.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, not a change.”

I tilt my head, watching the way his lips twitch like he already knows where I’m going with this. “But I can show you.”

He lifts a brow, amused. “Yeah?”

I wink. “Yeah.”

His laugh rumbles against my skin as he sit up and looks at me like a kid who’s been told there’s candy.

The warmth of the moment muffles the biting cold, and for now, just for this moment, it’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________

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[tsunodaradio]

but i'll do it for you ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

oscar has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where oscar does karaoke for the first time.)

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity. title from keshi's soft spot. ꔮ commentary box: wrote this in one sitting after i saw this sportbible video. this is part of my soft spot mini-series. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You’ve got no idea what you’ve done, have you?” 

You’re usually much more adept at seeing through Lando’s bullshit. Today, though, you’re thrown off by the suddenness of his accusation. You shoot Lando a look of mild exasperation, and he responds by jerking his head in the direction of his co-driver. 

“He’s never done that before,” says Lando. 

“Done what?” 

“Karaoke.” 

Your eyes flit over to Oscar, who’s in the middle of re-filling his water bottle. A disbelieving laugh escapes you. “You’re kidding,” you say to Lando. “Who the hell lives this long without doing karaoke?” 

“Oscar fuckin’ Piastri, it seems.” Lando sips from the drink, his lips curling around the mouth of his glass. He’s always had a penchant for joking around, but there’s something about the sharp glint in his eye that tells you this might not be one of those instances. 

“Well, he’s done it now. Y’know, he wouldn’t do it for me—” The Brit pauses. Lets the words sink in. “But I guess he’s willing to do it for someone.” 

The implication isn’t lost on you; Lando Norris wasn’t really known for his subtlety. The tips of your ears burn red as you mumble a low “sod off,” refocusing your attention on the McLaren race engineer now belting an Adele song. 

Gracefully, Lando takes your advice and leaves you alone. He shoots you a final conspiratorial wink. You resist the urge to flip him off.

As much as you don’t want to read into it, you can’t help the way your mind whirrs with thoughts. Oscar Piastri— for all his straightforwardness— was a puzzle that you’ve yet to complete, and all the scattered pieces lay out in front of you now. 

How Oscar hadn’t really been keen on going out tonight, but you asked once and he booked the two of you a cab. (Not without sighing about it, though, and mumbling on the entire car ride to the venue. The point still stands: He came out tonight. 

For you? No. You shake your head. That’d be stupid to assume.) 

Oscar, who seemed a bit flustered when you asked him for his go-to karaoke song. Oscar, who spent an arduous amount of time scrolling through his phone before finally even trying to pick something out of the book. (Lando claims that his co-driver had been Googling ‘Songs To Sing At Karaoke’, but you’ve never really trusted Lando when it came to things like this.) 

Oscar hadn’t really known how to navigate the song book— kept mixing up the index system, not knowing what to look for. He took too long, too, when it came to punching in the numbers on the machine. Like each digit was a step towards a death sentence of some sorts. 

And when he eventually did come up to the microphone, the room had gone crazy. You thought everybody was just being supportive, but it had struck you as odd. The way everybody filmed the entirety of Oscar’s off-tune rendition of The Final Countdown; the entire five minutes, immortalized on everyone’s phones like he were some popstar you all paid money to see. 

You look up, look for him. He’s still across the room, chugging water like his debut karaoke performance had taken the breath out of him more than any race. 

But when he catches your gaze, that hint of a smile tugs at his face. The one not everybody is privileged to be on the receiving end of. 

As Lando jumps up to the microphone for a Kendrick Lamar track, Oscar walks back over to you. The couch is big enough for him to sit a little further down, but he opts to be negligibly close. His side against yours; your knees pressed together. He gingerly takes one half of the song book, resting it between both your thighs. 

“Have you picked a song yet?” he asks, pitching his voice low. It’s just quiet enough that you have to lean in a bit to hear him, undoubtedly making it look like the two of you are in your own bubble. 

The pieces of his affection, the ones you’ve denied to acknowledge until now—

“We should do one together,” you blurt out. 

Oscar pauses in the middle of leafing through the song book. His thumb absentmindedly rubs at the corner of the page, like he might somehow find the answer to everything in between Maroon 5’s She Will Be Loved and keshi’s Soft Spot.

“Is that something you… want?” he stammers. (As if he’s scared to get his hopes up.) 

“Is it something you want?” 

At your question, Oscar turns to look at you. Really look at you. You feel his gaze despite the dimness of the karaoke room.

His eyes linger on your face as he answers. “It is,” he says softly, “something I want.” 

— the puzzle falls into place. ⛐

[zepskies]

Omg first of all, thanks so much for shouting out As Tradition Dictates, my lovely!! I have more Eomer coming in the near future. 😘

But first *rubs hands together* time to dig into this delectable love triangle...

Dear LORD you didn't have to do me like this from the onset with that opening scene of Butcher. 🥵

No man his age should look that good. 

Correct. 👆🏽 Why is it that rugged men in their 40s attract me more than men my own age. 🫠🫠

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

lmfao Eomer, is that you? ("romantasy" ftw! 😏❤️‍🔥)

The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

lol this is one of my favorite aspects of reading/writing in The Boys fandom - everyone's creativity on creating our own fictional supes that cause mayhem for the boys. 😆😆 (Not "a reenactment of the eighth plague" 💀💀💀)

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Can always trust you to give beautiful descriptions of flora and fauna. 🪴💚

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

Sigh. I can deeply relate to that first part, as you know lol.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

Girl stop torturing me lmfao. (But actually don't stop though) "Big hands" indeed. 🥵

Ben saw straight through her though and I'm living for their dynamic! lol

“He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

Oh how magnanimous of him. 🙄 Like yes, let's all jump (literally) on that opportunity to debase ourselves for his entertainment.

...But of course, there's also that whole ridiculously attractive factor that makes Ben difficult to resist, even though he's a complete asshole loll.

You’d tried the usual things… Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation. Gone completely mute when he asked you a question. Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room. Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

OMFg. That last one is so real! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel for her for real. I wonder how Ben's actually going to help her self-confidence. 💗

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-” Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Awww this melted me so much! She's not in love with him yet, but I think he's gonna bring it out of her on accident with stuff like this loll. Also big surprise on how he said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. 💚💚 I half-expected him to suggest exactly what she could do for him if she was so inclined. 😆

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”  What have I gotten myself into?

Oh my God, YESSS. She's in so deep already and I can only imagine where you'll take this next if you choose! I can say for sure that I'd love to see how this little scheme unfolds lol.

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

[4linos]

rediscovery.

lee felix x fem!reader

synopsis/request: with exhaustion settling in, you and felix barely have the energy to speak, but the moment your lips meet, everything changes. the passion you thought had faded returns, stronger than ever.

[warnings: nsfw 18+, suggestive, minors pls don’t interact 🙃]

wc: 749

You trudge into the living room, collapsing onto the couch beside Felix, who's already sunk into the cushions, eyes half-closed. The day has been a never-ending marathon of work, kids, and chores, leaving you both drained. You can't even muster the energy to look at each other, let alone have a conversation.

But as you sit there, you start to think about all the things that still need to be done. "Hey, did you remember to pay the electricity bill?" you ask, not even turning your head to look at Felix.

To your surprise, Felix responds, "Yeah, I took care of it this morning. And I also managed to get the laundry folded and put away."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? I could've sworn I was the one who was supposed to do that."

Felix opens one eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I think we both did our fair share today. The kids are even in bed early, for once."

You glance at the clock, amazed. It's only 9 PM, and the house is quiet. You start to feel a spark of energy, a sense of possibility.

Felix seems to sense it too, because he reaches out and gently pulls you towards him. "You know, I think we deserve a little break," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear.

As you turn to face him, you see the exhaustion in his eyes, but also a glint of desire. You feel a flutter in your chest, a sense of excitement that you haven't felt in a long time.

Without another word, Felix pulls you into a deep kiss, his lips warm and inviting. You melt into his arms, feeling the tension of the day melt away.

As you break apart for air, Felix whispers, "I think we've earned a little time to ourselves, don't you?"

You nod, your heart racing, and Felix pulls you back in, his hands roaming over your body, reigniting a flame that you thought had been extinguished by the demands of parenthood.

For a few blissful hours, you forget about the bills, the laundry, and the kids' schedules. All that matters is the two of you, lost in the moment, rediscovering the spark that brought you together in the first place.

As Felix's hands continue to explore your body, you feel a sense of surrender wash over you. You've been so focused on being a good parent, on keeping the household running smoothly, that you'd almost forgotten what it's like to be intimate with your partner.

Felix's fingers dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He knows exactly where to touch you, exactly how to make you feel alive. You moan softly as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, his eyes locking onto yours with a spark of desire.

You reach out and start to undo the buttons on his shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly as you try to rush the process. Felix chuckles and takes over, quickly shedding his shirt and pulling you back into a kiss.

As you deepen the kiss, you feel Felix's hands slide down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. You can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his arousal, and it sends a surge of excitement through you.

Without breaking the kiss, Felix stands up and pulls you to your feet, his hands guiding you towards the bedroom. You stumble slightly, your legs feeling weak with desire, but Felix catches you and holds you close.

As you reach the bedroom, Felix kicks the door shut behind you and spins you around, pinning you against the door. His eyes blaze with desire as he looks at you, his chest heaving with anticipation.

"I've missed this," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "I've missed us."

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I've missed us too," you whisper back.

Felix's face inches closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. But as the kiss deepens, it becomes more passionate, more intense. You feel like you're melting into him, like you're becoming one person again.

As the kiss breaks apart, Felix steps back and looks at you, his eyes burning with desire. "I want you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You nod, feeling a sense of surrender. "I want you too," you whisper back.

And with that, Felix pulls you into a passionate, all-consuming kiss, one that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

//

(a/n: i don’t write full on smut & i don’t know if i ever will but i’m okay with slightly suggestive. was this okay? 😅)

masterlist.

[regressionschool]

How a Stiffy Earned Him Crinkles

It was a lazy afternoon, and Ethan sat on the floor of the living room, legs spread apart as he absentmindedly played with the colorful stacking rings his girlfriend, Mia, had given him. He was wearing nothing but his baby blue pull-ups and a t-shirt that barely reached his padded bottom. Mia lounged on the couch, watching her "little" boyfriend with an amused smile as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone.

Ethan was supposed to be focused on playing like a good boy, but his eyes kept drifting toward Mia. She had just changed into a pair of tiny shorts and a fitted tank top, her bare legs curled beneath her as she stretched. His gaze lingered a little too long, and before he could stop it, his body reacted. He felt a stirring between his legs, his body reacting instinctively as his pull-up grew uncomfortably snug, the padding pressing back against his growig pee pee in a way that made his breath hitch

Mia noticed immediately. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk as she set her phone down. “Oh my God,” she giggled, sitting up. “Ethan, are you getting excited in your little pull-ups?”

Ethan’s eyes widened in horror. He yanked a nearby plushie to cover himself, but Mia was already crawling over to him, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I—I didn’t mean to!” he whined, his face burning red.

Mia placed a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “Oh, baby, this is just too good. You’re supposed to be my little toddler, and here you are with a stiffy like a naughty big boy.”

Ethan squirmed, gripping the plushie tighter. “It’s not my fault! Y-You changed in front of me.”

Mia gasped dramatically. “Oh, so it’s my fault now? I didn’t realize little boys in training pants still had those kinds of reactions.” She leaned closer, her fingers lightly tracing over the padded front of his pull-up. “I think someone’s proving they’re not ready for these at all.”

Ethan let out a mortified whimper. “Mia, please.”

She sat back, stretching leisurely. “Face it, baby boy. Pull-ups are for little ones who are learning, but you just proved you’re not ready for them.” She tapped her chin, feigning deep thought. “Maybe in a few years.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. “No! I don’t—”

Mia was already up, heading toward the cabinet where she kept his supplies. A moment later, she returned with a thick, pastel-colored diaper in her hands, the crinkly plastic rustling with every movement. She spread out the changing mat on the floor and patted it invitingly. “Lie down, little guy. Let’s get you into something more appropriate.”

Ethan groaned, hiding his face behind his plushie. “Miaaa,” he whined, but he knew there was no way out.

“Come on, baby.” Her voice was sweet, teasing. “We both know you belong in thick, crinkly diapers.”

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the mat, his heart hammering in his chest as Mia knelt beside him. She made a show of tearing open the sides of his pull-up, giggling when his erection was still very obvious.

“Aww,” she cooed, smirking, “look at that little stiffy. Too bad babies don’t get to have those.”

Ethan whimpered, his entire body burning with embarrassment as she slid the thick diaper under him. The moment she pulled it snug around his waist and taped it securely in place, he knew she was never going to let him live this down.

Mia patted the front with a satisfied smile. “There we go. All thick and crinkly, just like a proper baby.” She leaned in, whispering playfully, “Guess we’ll have to keep you padded until you forget all about those naughty big-boy feelings.”

Ethan could only squirm and pout, knowing she meant every word.