#BUT THEN I FEE ASLEEP AGAIN

[loderlied]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[909414208]

unmedicated adhd i want to get off this ride

[strawberry-nugget]

Ahhh I do NOT know what this is other than depressed af Bakugo, who is trying to be a good boyfriend with a hint of fluff

It starts as something as innocent as forgetting to fold your laundry after a hard day of work. Although he never does that, he's too meticulous about the house chores even after a 12 hour shift. You don't yell at him and he doesn't yell at you. He has ordered take out before even getting home and he eats in silence, after offering you some of his pizza and you decline, hurt that the portion of food that you made for him will go to waste. He doesn't say anything else for the remaining twenty minutes he remains awake and you end up folding the laundry.

By the time you go to the bedroom he's fast asleep, blond hair covering his forehead and mouth open enough so he can breathe through it. you notice the band aid on his nose; another wound he didn't bother telling you about.

It's a silent, muffled goodnight that puts you to sleep and not his arms around your waist but it's okay, you’ve been more than used to it.

When apathy isn't something that's enjoyable or even barely tolerable when you're in a relationship, you overlook it.

You think of him more often than you see him and you see him all the time. 

He delivers flowers to your workplace as an atonement for giving you the cold shoulder last night with a note. 

‘Sorry for being so grumpy lately, date tonight at 8?’

Your coworkers definitely enthuse about it and you grin like a schoolgirl. You think that even if you get off at six and you barely have enough time to get ready you can make it. So you text him, frenzied and insanely happy that you can make it and he snaps a picture of him drinking his smoothie while sitting on a railing of a building. Then he tells you where you're going for the night so you can be there as he'd be coming right after work.

Or at least he was supposed to. 

So what? He doesn't show up on a date. Katsuki's a pro hero, in the top five, too, so you can forgive that one time, despite having to endure the looks of pity from the waiters at the restaurant he has booked, and despite paying the minimum order fee all by yourself. All while downing a bottle of wine, dressed in your best clothes, make up done so nicely, in such little time too.

You try not to cry, at least not in front of anyone, because it's one time and it's okay that he didn't even bother to cancel on you, he for sure must have been busy! 

But you don't find it in you to plan another date anytime soon, and you don't allow him to mention whatever happened that night when he gets home to you. He’s battered, he’s bloody and behind red eyes there's that sorry expression of a dog that’s trashed the whole roll of toilet paper. 

You dont yell, you don't fight. He runs a bath for himself and you wash his hair.

Though, you'd love to actually at least leave a sassy remark on what he did, you're scared that his response won't be up to your standards or liking and hurting yourself like this -yes, begging for an explanation to the happening is begging- is not something you plan on doing. 

Until it happens again. 

This time, it's worse, because he's supposed to meet you and your friends at the cinema, on a day patrol shouldn't take too long to end. On a day there's no new article about a monstrous villain destroying the city. And yes, you do refresh the news section on your phone every second, with the way he's been getting so beaten up on the daily.

But this time, it's okay, because he lets you know beforehand. 

10 minutes beforehand. 

Through text. 

And even if it infuriates your friends, you can live with it. It's fine, you tell yourself and your friends. It doesn't usually happen, and he actually made an effort to let you know so you don't have to wait on him. 

It's more than understandable, you tell your friends, because your boyfriend (if you could call him that still) is a pro hero, and you, nothing but a civilian. His lifestyle is far more important than yours. Which, you actually find funny in the moment, now that everyone's staring at you. 

But your friends do not find it funny, actually. They don't lecture you yet, if they did, you'd burst in tears, and you enjoy the movie as much as you can in their company and rheir company alone. 

They're all you have, at the end of the day. 

Katsuki doest really have an everyday life as a civilian. And while striving to become number one he's overworking himself 

There's also the time he shows up to your friend's art gallery opening with his hero costume -broken left gauntlet and grease and mud all over his hair and face- because 1) you've lectured him about never showing up and the impression he's left on your friends and 2) he really is trying to make an effort and well 3)he doesn't really care about an amazing public image.

Your friends hate him. 

You don't.

The annual hero ratings come around the corner and he's fallen one place on the chart. The two of you spend that night at his parents’ and some subtle comments that youre not sure from whom it is worded sparks a fight with his mother, she tells him to not visit her again if he doesn't fix his attitude. They end up fighting over the phone every single day.

He gets worse after, always towards himself, as if he's done all the bad in the world. He spends most of his day on patrol and in the gym, but he doest bulk anymore. He’s more than okay with you making him lunch for work, he’s not mindful of any of his habits for a while.

Every single day that passes he’s more unhappy. Every day is worse than the other.

You continue to wash his hair and do the laundry on days he comes home bleeding and you don't get mad when he just wants to stuff his face in pizza. You go to bed with him and never let him sleep alone.

“you're s’nice to me when you don't have to” he mutters as you're stroking his hair away from his forehead. Not one of you is focusing on the movie that's playing. He;s sprawled like a cat on your chest, breathing from his mouth like that night.

“Its just cause i want to”

“m sorry i stood you up on that date”

“no need to talk about it” you reassure him. And its like he gets mad when you place a kiss on his exposed forehead. Brows furrowed, eyes half lid in exhaustion.

You pay him no mind, averting your eyes to the screen on your right He’s been so frustrated, you just know he's going to want to pick a fight

“dumbass. you should have dumped me.”

“You want me to dump you?”

He shakes his head in your chest as a response, hands wrap even tighter around your waist. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then okay? and stop thinking you don't deserve to be happy because life is shitty right now. You're the one who told me. Remember?”

At that he hugs you impossibly close. Pebbled chest pressing on your stomach as he wiggles his hands to wrap your feet around his waist. Your hoodie is lifted, just above your belly so he can plant a kiss on your skin and slanted red eyes look into yours again, this time more determined.

He knows how life has been for you. Things keep happening to you one after another and he's been there to witness it. To hold you. Your relationship with your own mother is only a little worse than his own and now, for the first time he actually understands how it's like to have someone hold him through all that he's been going through. 

No one can understand him better than you do, no one can love him better than you do.

There's an end to his restless nights, as you're spending them wrapped in his arms, face squished between his pectoral muscles. And now it doesn't matter if you sleep for two, five or eight or twelve hours. You're always rested. He’s not grumpy in the morning. Your migraines are gone. His muscles aren't sore anymore.

 Katsuki never had a civilian life, but when he comes home to you it's the closest he can get to one.

(this is my first post in two years be nice)

[junislqve]

⟡ phone calls — heeseung

your boyfriend was always there for you no matter what

pairs heeseung + reader content fluff fluff fluff comfort wordcount 479 — find my other works

note i need to stop writing hee

YOU'VE BEEN on your bed the whole day. it was currently almost midnight and you've done absolutely nothing.

something about everything has just been overwhelming you. every small thing ticking you off or making you upset, there's no in between.

so what you thought best to do was be alone. it felt better at first, avoiding people and be in your own space. but overtime it got lonely.

mindlessly, you open up your contact list and scroll to find your boyfriend's number. you were about to press the call button until you hesitated, fearing you'd disturb him in case he's asleep.

but then, someone calls you, making your dimmed screen light up again, your boyfriend's number on display.

"hello?"

"hi, baby, how are you?" he says it in such a sweet way you wanted to melt right then and there.

"shouldn't you be asleep by now, hee? you have work tomorrow"

"i know, but i missed you" he sighs into the phone, you can hear his soft breathing. "how's my baby? i miss hearing your voice"

you chuckle, he never failed to bring a smile to your face. never forgetting to always check up on you and show you that he loves you unconditionally.

you thought about what to say. you knew if you said you were okay he wouldn't give in to that.

he always knew.

so you opt for a simple, "i miss you"

"is something wrong, pretty?"

"no" you lie, "i just really miss you"

the line goes silent for a while, you thought he fell asleep.

"i'll be there in a few" and the line goes dead.

a part of you didn't like it, didn't like how he was willingly going to your place in the dead of night just to comfort you. but selfishly your other half was relieved. you needed your boyfriend more than ever now.

a few minutes later, you heard him click your front door closed and shuffle in towards your room.

the moment he got in he placed your favorite hoodie of his on top of your bedside and sat beside you on the bed his arms already going around your body.

"i'm all ears if you need me" he mumbles. you can barely hear it but it's there.

"can you just hold me"

"of course, angel" he rasps. you can fee his arm tightening around your waist as he pulls you closer.

you knew he would listen to you talk forever. he always did. sometimes you'd catch him giving you love eyes while you talked about anything and everything.

but right now you reckon all your thoughts would cease as long as you can breathe him in and let him hold you like that.

"good night, baby" he hums, laying your head on his chest as his hand rubs your waist in circles and the other scratching your scalp.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[lasanya539]

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it. 

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches. 

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably. 

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.” 

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks. 

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder. 

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music. 

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes. 

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain. 

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it. 

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face. 

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.” 

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother. 

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell. 

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried. 

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?” 

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast. 

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found. 

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang. 

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight. 

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal. 

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved. 

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.” 

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm. 

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers. 

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff. 

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval. 

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit. 

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever. 

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework. 

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this. 

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included. 

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’ 

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel. 

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now. 

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table. 

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time. 

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own. 

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up. 

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room. 

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles. 

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning. 

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it. 

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice. 

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it. 

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest. 

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin. 

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone. 

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers. 

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep. 

[togrowoldinv]

Settlement

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

You serve as Wanda’s attorney in her divorce proceedings, which leads to you helping Wanda see she can start again with someone new

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, slight mommy kink, fingering (W receiving), oral (R receiving)

Note: Milf Wanda 🤩 Enjoy!

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You try to never get too close to your clients. In your career, you like to form personal relationships with the people you provide services for, but never too personal.

That system was working pretty well until you met Wanda Maximoff. A friend of hers had suggested you to her for legal services. Her husband had hired the second-best attorney in town to defend him in the divorce. She insisted that, as the best, you help her.

You felt drawn to Wanda from the first moment you met her. She has an endearing way about her. She captivates the attention of everyone in the room without ever uttering a word. Just her presence is enough to draw attention.

There were several late nights spent at the office working on her case. You would call her and discuss how things were going. She had to get up early to get her kids ready for school, but she always stayed on the line until she was practically asleep.

Today, the case was finally settled. Wanda got the custody she wanted, thanks to you. If you’re being honest with yourself, you felt sad seeing Wanda for the last time. Her company is something you’ve grown accustomed to.

Wanda felt the same way. Which is why she got her checkbook and drove to your office one more time. You are deep in the next case’s work papers when you hear a knock on your door.

“I’m busy,” you mumble, figuring it was someone needing your assistance.

“Too busy for me?” your favorite voice in the world says.

You look up from your files to see her standing there in all of her glory. The beautiful Wanda Maximoff.

“Is everything alright, Ms. Maximoff?” You ask, standing up from your desk.

Wanda notices the way your eyes flicker to the way her chest looks in the blouse she’s wearing. She eyes your body too as you don a dark colored suit.

“Oh yes, everything is fine,” Wanda says. “I just wanted to thank you again for everything.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” you say.

Wanda is definitely older than you and her eyes tend to darken when you use terms like ma’am or call her missus.

“Come further in and have a seat.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wanda says. The word flows off her tongue with ease. “Have I mentioned that this office is very impressive?”

“You have, but I never mind hearing it again,” you tell her. You can’t help the grin that forms on your face. “It feels nice to have my own space.”

“Right,” Wanda says. “While I’m here, I thought I could pay my final bill.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that until you get an invoice,” you say. “I talked to the billing department and did get some of those fees waived though. I don’t want finances to be an issue.”

“Well, thank you,” she says. “I guess I should just be going then.”

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

Wanda stands up and walks towards the door. You notice she takes her time. So much of you wants to stand up and call after her, but you just aren’t sure if you should.

Luckily, Wanda turns around on her on accord.

“Y/n,” she begins. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but do you think I have a chance at this new single thing?”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t been alone since I was sixteen,” Wanda says. She walks back to the chair she was previously sitting in. “I don’t know how to be single.”

“It’ll be an adjustment,” you say. “But I know you can do it.”

“Maybe if I just get the first times out of the way,” Wanda wonders aloud. “Like the first date, kiss, all of that.”

You listen to her but don’t say anything. You can’t get a read on her. Does she want to do those things with you? Or are you projecting?

“Maybe we could- never mind,” Wanda says.

“We could what?” you finally speak again.

“Well, it’s just you have been so kind to me,” she says. “I was thinking maybe you could help me out one last time.”

“Okay,” you say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you kiss me?” Wanda asks.

“Oh.”

“I just- no I know it’s silly!” Wanda says.

She stands and paces in front of your desk. You rise and walk to her.

“Hey, it’s not silly,” you say.

“No?”

“No. If you want me to, I will kiss you.”

“Please.”

You take her face between your hands and brush her cheeks with your thumbs. The blush on her cheeks and the way she closes her eyes in anticipation makes your heart flutter.

Taking your time to lean in, you finally place your lips on hers. The electricity is palpable. You kiss her slowly, taking in everything that is Wanda. She deepens the kiss. When your tongue brushes against hers, she loses balance.

“Oh,” Wanda mumbles, pulling away just enough to regain her balance.

“How was that?” You ask her.

“Better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Yeah?”

Wanda nods. She feels herself yearning for you even more now. Asking for a kiss was a test to see if she wanted more.

Without uttering a word, she kisses you this time. Wanda pushes you back towards your desk, and you sit on the edge. Her intentions are clear in the way she slots her thigh between your legs.

“Wanda,” you say breathlessly. She moves her lips to your neck. “Wanda. Ms. Maximoff, slow down.”

Wanda stops and looks at you. You’re both flushed.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. I just want to make sure you want this.”

“I want this. I want you, sweetheart.”

“Then take me.”

Wanda gasps at your words, and you continue to take her breath away. Your hands make quick work of unbuttoning her blouse. The material falls to the floor along with her bra. You move your lips to her chest and suck on her perfect nipples.

She lets out the most beautiful moans. You move your hand to her pants and slip it down her jeans. Moving your fingers over her wet folds, you nip at her breasts.

“Fuck,” Wanda says. “Baby, please.”

“I’ve got you, mommy,” the word slips out.

“Fuck,” she mumbles.

You pull down her pants and finally insert your fingers into her. She gasps with every thrust.

“Come for me, mommy,” you tell her. “All for me.”

“All for you, baby,” Wanda says.

She comes hard against your fingers. She buries her face in your shoulder as she regains her breath. You kiss her head.

“May I?” Wanda asks, her eyes shyly looking towards your core.

“You may,” you say, with a slight chuckle at her sweetness.

Wanda kneels in front of you and pulls your pants down to the floor. She drops kisses to your thighs.

“Don’t tease me, Wanda.”

She continues to kiss you everywhere but where you need her the most. You take her hair and pull her into your pussy. Wanda licks you before taking your clit in her mouth.

“Fuck, mommy,” you say.

“Fuck,” she moans against you.

It doesn’t take long for Wanda to make you come against her tongue. You bring her up for a searing kiss.

You’re both breathless as you look into each other’s eyes. Your hearts flutter.

“Thank you,” Wanda says.

“Anytime, Ms. Maximoff,” you say. “Only the best for my clients.”

Wanda giggles sweetly, and you kiss her lips once again. You have a feeling you’ll be doing this quite often.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do. 

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown. 

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy. 

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish. 

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall. 

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof. 

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down. 

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings. 

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in. 

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been. 

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment. 

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray. 

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay. 

You don’t feel safe. 

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears. 

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has. 

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together. 

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined. 

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him. 

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. 

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of. 

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work. 

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack. 

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you. 

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler. 

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped. 

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find. 

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun. 

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page. 

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions. 

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York. 

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece. 

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil. 

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are. 

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands. 

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante. 

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together. 

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus. 

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything. 

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do. 

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert. 

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over. 

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you. 

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation? 

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be. 

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch. 

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again. 

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket. 

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting. 

You just need to stop thinking. 

But not in that way. 

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes. 

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream. 

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt. 

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is. 

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide. 

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room. 

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode. 

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.” 

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?” 

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.” 

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself. 

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps. 

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

--

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

--

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[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 6

Summary: Lloyd and you have to establish clear boundaries

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, D/s dynamics, mentions of abuse, misogyny, detailed ways Lloyd wants to murder The Verb, Lyla Bee 🥺, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Lloyd blows a soft breath of air over your face, and you remain asleep. Holding onto Lyla, while he clings to you both. It didn’t take long after the too serious conversation for you to nearly pass out from exhaustion, and he just holds you. His eyes move between you and Lyla, and he wonders how he ever got here. Gulping because you’ve ruined him.

He’s no longer the man that he used to be; careless, cocky, arrogant, snide, brutal, and so many other things. He’s Lloyd. He’s daddy. He’s heard you working with Lyla trying to get her to say that one word. When in reality he wishes that you would start teaching her another word. Mama.

It’s a title that you do deserve. More than he even deserves the name daddy. You spend nonstop time with her. Enjoy her. Take care of her like she is your own. And you are happy doing it. The way the two of you are curled into one another, he doesn’t have to question it. This is a mother’s love. A mother’s touch. She’s yours. And in that process of becoming a mother, you’re healing yourself of the deeply embedded wounds of your raising.

He doesn’t doubt you’ll continue to give Lyla the love and care that she deserves, but now it’s his job to make sure you have the love and care that you deserve. If you are to be giving yourself freely to him and Lyla, he has to reciprocate. He has to make changes. Tonight was too close. You could have been hurt more than you were. And you were hurt enough, and because of your upbringing, you just accept that men should be allowed to walk all over you, and use you to their every whim.

You’re to be seen not heard, and some big bad man will give you enough money for you to keep your mouth shut. Acting like money was worth it for the hell that you’re enduring. He doesn’t want you to think that what Chase did to you was okay, or that you deserved it because he was your boyfriend. That just makes it all the more worse. He was supposed to protect you. Lloyd will give you all the time that you need to process that, and he will be waiting. He’s never been more sure about something in his life. He wants you, and your worth the patience he has to have.

“Lloyd,” Ari says at the door of Lyla’s room. Lloyd rolls his eyes up to meet Ari’s, and he watches his partner sigh. It didn’t take a genius to know that Lloyd’s obsession has slowly turned into love. “He’s on his way to the warehouse,” Lloyd nods. He’ll deal with Chase slowly later.

“You guys need sleep,” Lloyd gives him a head nod, keeping his eyes on you. You and Lyla are keeping him grounded when his body is raging with the need to seek revenge. “Lloyd.”

“You’re going to wake her up. You…”

“Shh, her room is clean, and new sheets, but I think she and Lyla would sleep better in your bedroom,” he finally meets Ari’s eyes. “Yes. Not that you need my permission, but take them in your room. We need to talk,” Ari retreats quickly. He never is one to linger. He’s right. Lloyd shouldn’t hold the two of you all night, but he would.

He stands slowly, and only Lyla stirs. Her chubby cheeks smoosh more into your body, making her more adorable from her comfort being close to you. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get the baby out of the tangle of your arms without waking you, but he’ll stay there and wait for you to drift off again.

He treats your body like you’re the most delicate porcelain as he carries the two of you into his bedroom. Your body is so spent you only hum as he lays you down. Trying to untangle your arms around Lyla, and he lays her down right beside you. In the place that would be in between him and you. If he planned on sleeping tonight.

His heart feels as empty as his arms when he walks down the hall and into the living room. Staring at Ari who is distracted by something on the table, “What do you want me to do?”

“We’re not staying here,” Ari gives a nod. “I’m going to take some time off,” Ari nods again. “And I want that little prick kept alive. I need him mended, so I can torture that stye painfully slow. I want to rip his entrails out with my bare hands, and I want him to watch me finger knit with it.”

“You’re very graphic. But I don’t think you know how to knit of any kind,” Lloyd would find out. He wants the putrid stench to fade from life, knowing Lloyd Hansen took that last breath from him.

“I’ll figure it out on my time off. What more is there to discuss?”

Ari’s fingers drum on the table, contemplating how he’s going to talk to Lloyd about this. He’s a sensitive soul. Becoming more sensitive when it comes to ‘his girls’. “You’re falling,” Lloyd doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Ari. The only one he will discuss his feelings with is asleep.

“I’ve seen it for a while. But tonight — Lloyd, you’re in fucking deep. Chase isn’t your enemy, and you battered his face,” not his enemy? Chase defiled you. That Verb deserved more pain than he felt tonight.

“What was I supposed to do? He was,” Lloyd’s face turns from anger to deep seeded agony. The veins in his arms ripple thinking about your pitiful cries. And that man antagonizing you. Demanding you, and you wailed. Your cries will haunt him, but the pain he made you suffer is unforgivable. “You didn’t hear her.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know.”

“Then fucking say it.”

“You don’t like to get bloody. You wanted to feel his pain,” Lloyd starts to shake his head, but Ari raises a gun. “You could have shot him. Admit to me that you love the girl.”

“I don’t have to admit shit,” Ari smirks. Starting to lean back on the couch. “And even if I did, what does it fucking matter?”

“Why do you want to kill her father?” That is a bit more complicated. He didn’t see Roman physically harm you, but he knew he hurt you just by your actions alone.

“He tried killing her spirit. It seems fair. Is there a problem here?” Ari smiles, shaking his head no. “I feel you have something to say, and if you do, say it.”

“I have. You denied it. Lloyd, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re making it a dangerous world for these two girls. They will need security detail. Or you’re going to have to scale back. I need you to know, I’ve got your back. That’s all. I’m not here to tease you, I just want you to admit to yourself how much that woman is sinking into your soul,” Lloyd breathes in deeply. Giving a nod to his friend as he turns to go down the hallway and back to his girls.

“And Lloyd. Take a bath. She’ll thank you for it. I had someone scrub the security footage. Nobody knows that the foul stench of an abscess tooth was here. That girl has been through a lot because of Roman. Maybe try talking to her about those experiences and how you can be different.”

“Are you giving me advice?”

“Yep,” Ari pops the p as he goes to stand up. “She wants to take care of you, too, buddy. She’s a good one. Don’t fuck it up.”

Lloyd watches as his most trusted friend leaves the apartment, and he collects himself, running his palm down the front of his face. He has no idea what he’s doing. He just knows that he wants to do it, and be with you. That’s all that mattered to him. Not the difficulty that could come with being with you. He’d make it work. He was already waiting on the final piece of the puzzle to make sure Lyla would be nowhere, but with him. And you.

You jump up in bed. Wiping off your arms, and face. Feeling him all over you. The creep’s smell was all over your skin, and you had to get him off. And then the panic. You weren’t in your room. You’re alone. “Lloyd! Lloyd!”

Smoke seeps beneath a door, and you know you’re dreaming. Looking down to your side, a sleepy Lyla whines, wiping at her eyes. “What are you doing? Lloyd!” You scream again, picking her up, you hold her close to you. Your skin crawls, and your chest tightens. You couldn’t breathe.

“L-L-Lloyd,” it sounds strangled as tears fall down your face. Feeling like the walls are caving in. You want to rock in place, but if that was smoke, then there’s fire. And you have to get out. “Lloyd!”

The door opens up, and Lloyd in just a towel has his eyes searching around the room. It wasn’t smoke. “Sweetheart,” he rushes over to your side, and pulls you and Lyla into his wet chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where,” you begin, and gulp. You try to calm yourself, and focus on his breathing. Lyla giggling a bit helps. Not to mention the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, “Where am I?”

“My bedroom. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. What…tonight wasn’t a nightmare?” Lloyd whispers no, and rubs a hand down your cheek. His grip never tightens, and your cheek is damp from the beads of water on his titties, and your tears. “I need to shower,” Lloyd reaches for Lyla, and she quickly looks up at you. Leaning into your body like a hug, not wanting to be away from you. “Can daddy hold you? I’ll…Lloyd can you sit in there with me?”

It’s nothing sexual, just the need to not be alone. “Yeah. Lyla, come on, baby. Let’s let Dolly take a quick shower. And we’re going to keep her safe and cozy. You want to wear one of my shirts?” You give him a nod and a smile. Words are a bit difficult now. Scooting to the edge of the bed, you give Lyla a kiss on her head before walking into the bathroom with the door open and you remove your clothes.

It doesn’t occur to you to close the door because that will create a barrier between you, and you don’t want that; fear it even. You don’t turn to see if Lloyd is watching, again, it’s not sexual. It just feels right.

Lloyd softly sings to Lyla while he sits on the edge of the sink, and you shower. His bathroom is so much nicer than yours. Shower heads in every direction and you let the water and soap wash the night down the drain. Breathing in the steam, and using his lullabies as a way to set you at ease.

“Did you kill him?”

Lloyd waits too long to respond, so you assume he did, but just doesn’t want to tell you. You aren’t new to death, “Do you want me to answer truthfully?”

“I’d prefer that,” closing your eyes, you stand in the warmth. Turning the water up as high as you can stand, you let the heat sanitize you from Chase’s touch, and your skin prickles and burns with the flowing fire.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so flat. “Why are you asking?”

“Do you plan on killing him?”

“Yes. Are you wanting me to spare him?” You peek around the edge of the shower. Your eyes lock in on his, and shake your head no. “I would if you wanted me to.”

Him saying that means more than you thought it would. You turn the water off, stepping right into his line of vision, and he fails to keep his eyes on yours. Instead his sight is roaming all over your dripping body. “I want you to do what’s necessary. One time when I was a child I begged my father to spare a man. He obliged. A week later we were thanked with a threat and the head of my mother’s cat. I won’t ask that of anyone ever again.”

He licks his lips as you grab a towel and begin to dry yourself off. Lyla already asleep again, but his hungry eyes can’t stop fucking you. It’s sick with the conversation at hand, but you love it. Love that he can boldly ogle you with no shame or care. And still not touch you. “The Verb isn’t a threat to me past a good beating. He’s not an enemy to my organization. But he is an enemy of mine, and he will pay for his sins against you.”

“I trust you,” you answer, leaving too many buttons undone as you walk in front of him. “You do what you need to. What you feel is the most satisfying and best.”

“Don’t tempt me,” his eyes are hard as he stares at your hardened nipples peaking up through his shirt. The ribbons of water wettening the material, and leaving little to the imagination.

“Don’t tempt you with my body or my approval of carrying out Chase’s punishment?” He smirks as his eyes linger at your chest. His desire to rip the shirt open, and attach his mouth to your tit blinding him. You purposefully didn’t fully dry yourself off. Letting the material mold to your curves. “Lloyd?”

“Either,” he gives a final look down your chest before he meets your eyes, “You’ve been tempting me the moment you walked into my life. And if it wasn’t for what that fucker did tonight, I would really be struggling to contain myself. If you want attention, ask. You don’t have to be a tease.”

You take a slow calculated breath. Your own eyes drifting down his toned impeccable body. Each cord of muscle is tightened as he tries to contain his need to pounce on you and claim you. The way he cradles Lyla with a delicate touch, makes him so much more sexy, “Will you — hold me tonight?”

He smirks. Extending the baby towards you. “I’m going to get her bassinet. That way I can hold you all night long,” you whimper at the thought. Nothing could make you feel more secure than his arms.

“Can you put her on my side of the bed?”

“Of course,” he bows as he walks out of the bathroom. Traveling the short distance to her room, you gaze down at her perfectly smooth skin. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. It seems silly, but the times you’ve imagined her being yours, and calling you mama are far too many. You love her. It didn't matter how much you wanted her to be yours, she couldn’t be. She had a mother elsewhere.

“Alright. I’m going to roll this here. You go ahead and put the Lyla Bee there, and we can snuggle,” with a lingering kiss to her head, you lay her into the bassinet. You get into the bed first, and place a hand on hers. Needing to feel her steady breathing, and you look over your shoulder as Lloyd lifts up the plush blankets. His boxers sit low on his waist. So low you see the sprinkling of hair right above his cock, and you wish he would just be nude.

He slides into the bed, and you release a sigh of relief as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight up against his front. His mustache tickles the back on your neck, and you’ve never felt safer. Here in his arms makes sense and feels so right. Your eyes slowly close, and you feel a single kiss on your skin. But choose not to say anything, and he gives you another before inhaling your scent. And then, lightness.

A man with so much power that can strike instant fear should not be as soft as he is with you and Lyla, and yet, here you are. Wrapped in a secure safety cocoon of his arms, while you hold onto his baby. Resting in a sleepless dream. It’s the first time in years. And you love it.

Lyla shakes her head no, giggling because Lloyd tries to take her out of your arms. Her chubby little hands slap at his, until he finally relents, and quits torturing her. “Fine. Fine. I was going to show you your room, but maybe I should start with,” Lloyd gulps as he looks at you. His face flexes, and you wonder if he’s at war with himself. “Let’s look at Dolly’s room.”

“My room?” Lloyd nods, looking over you confused. “Our room,” Lloyd’s eyebrows raise as he nods his head. He may get used to you being more assertive. “I don’t want to be alone,” you haven’t wanted to be alone since that night. And now that he’s brought you out of the city, you want to be by his side, and prefer that Lyla is there as well.

“I didn’t ask for your explanation. If you’re comfortable with that, and that’s what you want. I think we’re both aware of where this relationship is going. And there’s something else I’d like to discuss,” Lyla lets out a big scream, her hand slaps your chest, and you look towards her. You’ll deal with his comment about where the relationship is going momentarily. Right now a nearly ten month old is begging for your attention.

Her mouth opens and closes, “Are you going to say dada? Go on, Lyla Bee, say dada.”

“Ahhh!” She screeches, looking up at you. A bit of frustration linked on her face, “Ma,” your eyes go wide looking towards Lloyd. “Mamamamamamama!!!” her daddy claps his hands. Laughing, smiling, and reaching towards her. Congratulating Lyla on her outburst of saying — mama.

“You did it! Oh my beautiful baby! You came in way too early, but you couldn’t help it,” your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. Unable to fully describe what you’re feeling, or even how you feel. She called you mama.

It’s not until you’re wiping your cheeks that you realize you’re even crying. You’ve never loved someone the way that you do Lyla, and even if you’ve imagined being her mother, and don’t correct people that call you her mom this is almost too much. Like the things you’ve been wanting are coming to fruition. Lloyd whispers your name as he pulls you into an embrace. He rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying the three of you back and forth. This would almost feel like it is going too fast had you not been watching Lyla for months.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not her mother though.”

“No, you’re not. You’re her mom,” Lyla repeats the syllable over and over again. Giggling, and trying to get your attention by smacking at your shoulder. “You might not have birthed her, but you’ve become her mom. It only seems fair, and if you don’t want her to call you that,” he exhales slowly, and you furrow your brows watching his face show so many emotions. “I’ll respect your wishes,” he didn’t want to respect your wishes, and still he would.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Just where we are. Me, waiting patiently for you to decide where you want this relationship to go.”

“And if I don’t want anything romantic?” This is such a lie, but you need to know. Would he force into a relationship if you said you didn’t want it.

“Then why are you asking about our room?” You didn’t realize you had been trying to backtrack the status that you had set until now. Lloyd offered for you to have a separate room from his, and you insisted that you share. Lloyd offered to sleep on the couch while you were in his room, but you pouted for him to snuggle with you, and he did.

He had given you space, ample amounts of times. Allowed you to set the tone of the relationship, and it was you every time that was pulling him back into something romantic. It wasn’t trauma bonding. While there was a traumatic experience between the two of you, you’d been feeling things for him long before that night.

You goaded him. You teased him. You felt yourself come over and over again with his name on your mouth. Pranced in front of cameras he hid in your room and put on a show for him. You wanted him to break, and he never did. You heard him stroking his cock and moaning your name, but that’s because you went looking. He didn’t cross boundaries that you had put up.

“I’ll admit that I sowed the seeds of my attraction towards you, and made it clear immediately. When I pulled you over my lap and spanked you, I did enjoy seeing your pussy leaking, dripping, and clenching around nothing. I knew that you wanted more than anything for me to fuck you right there. Have you leaned over the couch while I fucked you so deep you can’t see straight. But until you explicitly say the words, I am just your employer. But Lyla is something else entirely.”

Those filthy words oddly sound like a beautiful sonnet. Yes, Lloyd pushed, and even demanded to be a dominant role in your life, but it wasn’t a push that made you hate him. It made you desire him more. And you have spent months wishing the man would just tell you what he was going to do to and for you.

You are so tired of being what others wanted. He got it. You wanted it, despite how depraved it may be. So he made the decision from you. Letting you sink into his world of sin without compromising your morals, because he was making you. But you wanted him to.

There are ways that you are becoming exactly what was expected of you, a kept woman. Except the way that Lloyd treated you, it was like you actually had autonomy in the situation. With Chase it was what he wanted, when he wanted it. Lloyd gave you a freedom that you didn’t think you would ever get, and you hadn’t realized it. And then he made you crave his rules. Because you also wanted to break some of those rules. Wanted to see him lose control because you knew he would take you to a place where you didn’t have to think.

“Explain this to me like I’m a child.”

“I can’t explain the things I want to do to you then. Because you’re not a child.”

“Then just put it into simple terms,” his mouth quirks crookedly. As if this animalistic part of him understands the delicate dynamic of your relationship. Balance. It all relies on balance, and trust, and love, and respect. All things that you’ve never been given.

“When Lyla is awake, we are as normal a couple as our neighbors,” gone is the city life. Lloyd couldn’t take such chances with you and her. Now you’re out in the suburbs with sprawling land on the property, secluded at home and still close enough to a small town that you and Lyla can live and not have people constantly watching you.

“When she’s asleep, everything will depend on your behavior.”

“Oh?” You inquire. Your fingers softly scratch over Lloyd’s belly, and the sweetest little baby smiles her two tooth grin, looking between the two of her favorite people.

“You’re pushing it now because Lyla can’t talk. But if you misbehave, I will have to punish you. I will have to drag you over my lap, while your bare ass gets spanked. And depending on how well you take it, I just may put you on your knees, so I can fuck you like the slut you are,” he pauses, waiting to see how you respond to his degradation. Reading your visual cues. His lips press just below your ear, and he chuckles.

“You’re heating up. I bet if I put my hand between your thighs, I could feel your cunt pulsing with a need to have me buried in you. You need a safe word. And I will obey. And I will not go further if you want me to stop.”

Your mind races as his hand travels from your hip. Dipping lower and lower. Skirting over your core to the other leg. “What will it be?”

“Night — nightingale.”

“Good girl,” you preen, but his hand stops their movement. “Now, do you want to make lunch or watch the baby.”

“What?” You look at him confused. He was just…he’s a fucking tease.

“The things I want to do to you, Lyla Bee has no business being a part of. However, it is lunch time, and I’m famished. If you’re ready for me to fuck that pretty little pussy stupid, you’ll have to wait,” you glower at him, and he smiles. “That’s for all those times you put on a show for me. Exposing those pert tits. Later, if you don’t want me to touch you, you can give me a striptease. And I will keep my hands off you, and just watch, until you say go. Here, you take the baby. I’ll make us some lunch.”

“You’re mean,” you whine. It is obnoxious how pitiful you sound, but he is teasing you. Touching you everywhere that you want him, and denying you.

“Aww,” he kisses your temple softly, handing you the baby. His mouth lingers on your skin. His warm breath fans over you, and thankfully Lyla giggles to break the trance, “But I’m not cruel. If you want me, you get this, so we have to be adults and be patient. But I can promise you, I will treat you with the utmost respect, and I will never make you feel like you are a prop in our lives. Do you understand that? Teasing is fun, but I won’t push you beyond your limits. If you need me to be what I am when we’re sleeping, I need to know. If you need me to fuck you stupid, I need to know. If you want me to make sweet beautiful love with you, I need to know.”

“You’re giving me a choice?” You’ve never been given a choice as to how sex should be. You just let them decide for you.

“It was always your choice,” he answers solemnly. His head bows, and he walks away to quickly. His own head spinning as to what you could have endured, especially with that infected cut on his arm. The Verb. One day, Lloyd will enjoy ending The Verb’s life so slowly that he begs for a quick kill. It won’t happen.

“Where’s Lloyd?” Roman demands, walking into Ari’s office. He gets too close to the man, and with one finger, Ari pushes him back. Roman is a nobody in this organization. Ari could end him before Roman even blinks. But then he’d piss off Lloyd, “Levinson, where is Lloyd?”

“Not here,” he doesn't have to tell Roman anything about Lloyd’s whereabouts. That is a need to know basis.

“He hasn’t been here for over a week,” your father’s stature is pathetic. He’s a tall wide man, but he doesn’t have the control to wield fear into people. Lloyd could eat him alive. Smiling at the man while he forks out his innards. Roman may look the part, and he may be smart, but he’s a fool.

“I take it you didn’t hear about the break into his apartment?”

“That doesn’t warrant his absence,” oh, Ari may have to keep this conversation to himself. Anything involving you, sets Lloyd in a terrible mood. Ari’s eyes slowly glance down the man’s body. “What?”

“Do you even know who is living with Lloyd?”

“My daughter,” there’s a pregnant pause between the two of the men, before Ari chuckles. Roman could never understand feelings such as love. Women are lesser beings to him, and none lesser than you, “I don’t see any reason to get all upset and for him to be missing.”

“You didn’t even ask what happened,” Roman stands there, immobile. His eyes are blank. “Someone broke into your daughter’s room.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yeah,” Ari didn’t quite subscribe to the fact that Roman hated his daughter like Lloyd thinks, until this moment. His expressions never waivers. He’s completely unphased.

“Where’s Lloyd then?” Rolling his eyes, Ari sighs, and turns his chair back around. He doesn’t even flinch when Roman's hand slaps the wall. His voice growling and low, “He’s fucking her, isn’t he? Her bitch of a mother taught her well. Spread your legs for a willing participant to make you rich. Guess she learned from the best. Do I get a bonus for giving Lloyd a live in sex doll?”

Ari smirks, staring at the computer screen. Letting Roman monologue his way into a bigger pile of shit than he already was. “We’re the same. I guess you need a pretty one with good breeding to be your broodmare, and on your arm for galas. But Lloyd Hansen will always have his professionals that he can really have fun with. Women like my daughter are to be kept at home.”

Keep going, asshole. Ari gets it. He didn’t even know you like Lloyd did. But what is going on between the two of you, is nothing that Roman is describing. Roman is explaining himself, creating excuses to the way he is. His only wife, and his only child. Lloyd isn’t Roman, and that man is far from being Lloyd. No one but Ari has seen the way that Lloyd watches you curiously. Or the fact that he had a special task in finding Lyla’s egg donor. Lloyd would have her killed before she took Lyla away from you.

“I guess his next goal is to pretend the baby is my daughter’s. He’ll probably fuck her raw until she gives him a legitimate child,” Ari grits his teeth. The disdain he has for you and Lyla is appalling. “If she ends up pregnant, he owes me,” he says, spinning on his heels. “At least she’s worth something now.”

“He owes you a bullet in your fucking head, you idiotic moron,” Lloyd had mentioned it was time to prune the people in his circle. He knows the next one to go. But Lloyd wouldn’t be back until you allowed him in. And he’d almost broke down your walls now. You’d been letting him in little by little. Trusting him a bit more not to break you. And only then would Lloyd return. You are his only assignment. And the only thing that mattered to him.

His girls.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit

@rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans

@ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13

@missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lostinspace33

@abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber @tas-renee @kmm-fluv

[megumiluvv]

“Choso, do you have other siblings?” You ask one day while doing your laundry. Yuji wanted to stay at your apartment instead of his next door, so Choso stopped by after work.

“Yeah, have I not told you?”

“No, but it’s honestly not that surprising.”

“How?”

“You just have ‘eldest brother’ vibes. Anyways, I was asking because Yuji has an ‘All About Me’ assignment he needs to fill out.”

“Oh. Those have always been complicated for him. I’ll fill it out.” He frowns as he thinks and you just smile at the sight.

“I helped where I could, but you probably know him better than me.”

Choso watches you casually fold laundry as Yuji eats snacks on the table and his assignment sits nearby.

Q.1: “What does your home look like?”

Easy enough, Yuji lives with Choso. You had filled it out.

Q.2: “Who are your parents/guardians?”

Touchy subject, but again, Choso is his guardian.

Q.3: “What is your favorite color?”

“Hey, Yuji, what’s your favorite color today?” Choso asks.

“Ummm, red!”

Alright, another question answered.

Q.4: “Do you have any pets?”

Apartments don’t allow pets without an extra fee, so no.

You watch Choso continue to fill out the assignment and peer over his shoulder.

“You’ve got nice handwriting.”

“Really? I think it’s pretty bad, I was kind of illiterate for a while, but learned more to help my brothers.”

Q.7: “Who else is in your family?”

Choso lists two brothers, as well as their uncle and Uraume. Yuji looks and doesn’t see your name, so he points at you. You don’t get it and just tilt your head, same with Choso.

“Why are you pointing?”

“Add.”

“Add?”

“To the list.” Yuji points at you again.

“Yuji, it’s family-”

“Yeah, I know, I learned how to read last year, add.”

You feel your heart warm at the thought of Yuji wanting you to be a part of his family and you smile.

“Yuji, you know I’m not related to you…”

“Okay, but the teacher said pets count as family, and friends, and people we care about.”

Your heart warms more and Choso watches your expression, his own little smile forming.

“I take it you want Megumi added to the list?” He grins to the child.

“Yeah!”

Choso writes your name onto the paper, carefully placing each letter as if the pencil wouldn’t be able to erase. He then adds Megumi’s name to the paper and answers the last of the questions, meant for guardians.

Afterwards, you cook dinner for the three of you and Yuji plays in the living room.

“So, who are Kechizu and Eso?” You ask, curious about the idea of his siblings.

“They’re my brothers. Yuji’s the youngest, obviously, but they’re both in college right now. They live pretty far, but Eso said he plans to visit soon.”

“So I’ll meet some more family?”

“Maybe.” He grins. “He might be like our uncle and ask if we’re dating. Apparently I don’t have friends.”

You laugh and make Yuji’s plate. “That’s alright. My parents would have a hay day if they heard about you.”

“Good or bad?”

“No clue. I know my mom would instantly assume dating which would send my dad into a lecture.” You roll your eyes and sit Yuji at the table.

“My mom had a few of her own lectures.”

“Oh, your mom was the lecturer? That sounds worse.” You laugh, and Choso does as well.

Dinner goes by as casually as always and you three watch a movie, Yuji already asleep on your lap before reaching halfway through the movie. You also fall asleep near the end, so Choso wraps his arm around your shoulder. You’re starting to love this little family, Choso is too.

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof

[m1sa-w1sa]

can I request self aware arlecchino if your requests are open if not please ignore.

(Okie dokie :p)

•When you started playing genshin pretty recently but trying to catch up with all the lore but it was so much! When you wanted to pull for a charecter you picked arlecchino, you thought the design was pretty so you went ahead and pulled! Surprisingly you got her on the first one pull! Lucky…lucky you..

•But when you got her she was fully built? Why? Was that normal? When you asked your friends that DO play they said that you were playing with them it was so confusing to you

•Later that day anytime you pulled it would just be Arlecchino, Arlecchino developed some lind of obsession..? Always thinking it was cute you seeking so worried when shes low health, your listening to her voicelines. Why would anyone else beed your divine presence it was alrecchinos anyways!

•After a fee months you slowly got bored so you logged off, days, months, then a year but you suddenly remebered that you HAD Genshin impact (when it says you have NO storage) so you logged back on but when you looked at your characters it was only arlecchino, the voicelines were saying

“Why did you leave?”

“You didnt need to leave..”

“You only NEED me..”

•Again maybe it was a glitch so you just turned off your computer then just fall asleep but feeling someone right next to you..

“You will be with me forever My sweet..”

(Done :3 if u want to ask for a pt 2 just lmk!!)

[a-simple-imagine]

Bigender asian with pronoun fuckery

synopsis: you're a rising star at godu. just cracked the top ten but a budding relationship with jordan li may bring everything crumbling down

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 5.2k+

a/n - not sure how i feel about this but i am putting it out there. if this gets enough attention, I can work on another part that goes a little deeper?? I use all pronouns for Jordan but mainly they/them

WARNINGS - swearing and drug use

a groggy groan slips past your lips as you bury your face further into the gentle embrace of the pillow. it is early. too early. you have no clue what time it actually is but whatever the case may be, you weren't ready for the day to start just yet. it takes a moment to realise you're alone in this bed. you hadn't been when you fell asleep. it doesn't bother you too much though. they're probably just getting ready. that is until you hear a curse word muttered quietly; perhaps an attempt to not disturb you or maybe they just wanted to hide their frustration. "what are you doing?" your words half muttered into the pillow.

"rankings are out." that was it? rankings? you sometimes forget how competitive they can be. it's not like you're not interested. you've wanted that top spot since freshman year. alas, golden boy holds that spot and you'd never be a pretty blonde white boy if you tried. this semester you've been working extra hard. Everyone knows you're in the best chance of scoring a city contract if you can break the top ten but the seven? they want the best of the best. sure it's not impossible to be lower and also become part of the team, the deep managed it, but that was an anomaly. most supes just end up as walking advertisements for vought. and as much as you may enjoy the occasional acting class. you weren't here to end up on some CW show or a Netflix special. you were gonna make it into the seven. you were gonna prove to everyone that you are one of the best.

"who cares," you mumble, rolling onto your back and spreading your arms out wide.

"oh, so you don't care that you're now second."

"come back to bed." you urge. a silence seals the room until your brain catches up to what it just heard. did they say second? as in second place? as in one spot away from first? you didn't mishear that. sitting up, you eventually spy a feminine presenting Jordan sitting at her desk, illuminated by the blue glow of their tablet. their short bob falls to one side. a perfect backdrop for such a pretty face "Are you fucking with me?" they don't bother responding just shove the tablet out in your direction. grabbing it you see your school ID photo with a massive '#2' next to it. you blink a few times. scroll down a little. refresh the page. but again it's still there. it was real. "fuck"

"My thoughts exactly," Jordan reacts. you glimpse at them wondering what that comment means. it could merely be a jest or a reflection of their current mood. you take a moment to look at the rest of the list in search of their name. they were no longer top three. you found them sitting nicely at number five. double fuck. you had taken their spot. they're still top ten which most would be happy with but not Jordan. tossing the tablet aside, you drop back against the bed. letting your eyes fall closed. "we have class in like an hour."

"I don't need to go to class. I'm number two now," you press.

"not how that works," A dramatic groan falls past your lips, pulling the covers up over your head. bed sounded better than a morning lecture. you wish they would just join you or leave you be. "get out of my bed." Jordan huffs after a moment. "we're gonna be late." you don't move. you frankly don't care. "if you don't hurry up, no breakfast."

"fucks sake." you whine, emerging from beneath the darkness of the duvet. "fine. I'll let you buy me Jitterbean."

"thought so," they offer you a tight smile. you could never say no to a free treat before class. "chop-chop."

Drink in one hand, pastry in the other, you're feeling brighter as you stroll into class. Jordan trails behind you. they'd been usually quiet on the walk over. you put it down to all the attention you were attracting today. couldn't even walk across campus without people asking for pictures or saying hi. you weren't sure you liked it just yet but for right now it was fine. when you spot cate you offer a scrunched up smile which she quickly returns. you and cate had been friends since day one. something just clicked. "there she is," cate starts as you approach your usual spot in class. "the girl of the hour. you're literally all anyone can talk about."

"aren't i always," you tease.

"we're going out tonight"

"are you asking-" you begin as Dean Shetty strides into the room. guess brink was out today. "or telling me?"

"telling," cate's smile quirks up before she turns to focus on the class. guess that was the end of that conversation.

you linger by your desk as everyone else filters out of the room after class. Dean Shetty requested a word. you can't imagine what it's about. surely she isn't that bothered by your attempts at chatting through her lecture. you offer up an awkward little smile as you push off the desk you were leaning against; slowly making you way across the room. "so what have I done wrong?"

"you mean other than talking through the entire class," you internally cringe a little. maybe she was bothered by all the whispering. she watches you for a moment before continuing. "it is nothing like that. don't worry."

"then why am I here?"

"I just thought we should have a little chat." your brow furrows. what did you and the dean of an entire university have to discuss? was this about your ranking? was she about to tell you there had been a mistake? "I believe congratulations are in order- such an extensive jump in ranking, you must be proud."

this felt like a conversation that could have been an email. "sure. thanks." you shrug. you're not really sure what to say. of course, you're proud. you were the second highest ranked student in a school of exceptional kids. "is that all?"

"no," her head shakes a little. I wanted to make sure you understand the gravity of the position you're in." when you don't respond she decides to just continue. "being a superhero is about more than just your abilities. it's also about how you present yourself. people care about you. they wanna know what you're doing. who you're hanging out with. One minute you're taking a picture with a nice girl you met at a party the next you're fighting nazi allegations for hanging out with a white supremacist. do you get what I'm saying?"

you shrug. "don't hang out with nazis, got it."

"I'm saying you need to look at yourself more like a brand. Be careful about what you say and who you spend your time with. you're the sum of the people around you."

"I know. I took branding." everyone knew how this worked. being a good person only took you so far and if homelander was anything to go off, that doesn't even matter that much. it's all about how you market yourself. it's about how many followers you have. how much attention you can get. inevitably, how much money can you make for Vought? Dean Shetty smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"you do want to be number one, correct?" you nod a little. "I want to help you get to the top but only if you wanna help yourself."

"what about Luke?"

"he is far from my concern right now." what did that even mean? "so?"

you hesitate. you did want this but you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to here. If Dean Shetty can help you secure first place though, maybe it was worth the risk. she was an expert here. should you even bother questioning why the sudden interest in you? "I want this."

"Good," her smile seemed more genuine now. "I know you can go far, just keep in mind what I said."

"I will," you start edging towards the stuff you left on your desk. "thanks."

"also try listening during lectures. I'm sure you and Miss Dunlap can talk some other time."

"Sorry." with that you practically run out of the classroom before she can continue talking.

it's a particularly chilly night smushed in the back seat of an old car. bright lights zoom past the window and music blasts through the speakers. you're not really paying attention to the noise around you. it's a mess of meaningless conversation. Dean Shetty's words play over in your head. She certainly would not approve of this little venture out into the night past curfew; what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Jordan eventually pulls your attention; in his hand, he holds two small red pills. you don't really question it before popping one into your mouth. a second for later. tonight was gonna be fun or if nothing else you can abuse enough substances to pretend. the secret location is just a massive warehouse. on the outside, you'd think it any old thing. inside you find massive tanks of rainbow fish, long sweeping curtains, jester-themed masquerade masks and other eccentric decor. it is the most random selection and yet it works so well. creates the perfect balance of sexy and mysterious but inviting. you find yourself in a booth with your friends all around. "so how's being number two going for ya?" Andre asks. "feeling the pressure yet?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "people are weird."

"what do you mean?" Luke questions.

"Dean Shetty said some things to me after class."

"-I come bearing gifts." Jordan appears, now in their feminine form with a couple of drinks followed by Marie. "courtesy of the young gentleman at the bar."

"What did Dean Shetty say?"

"it doesn't matter." you shrug it off. "two will never be one right."

"has it not hit yet?" Jordan wonders.

"i know what it's like to suddenly have all this pressure on you but try not to think about it much," Luke reassures you. "just keep doing what you're doing. you've got this."

"my guy. you're supposed to be happy here," Andre leans forward slapping his hand against your leg. "we're out here celebrating you, dude. cheer up."

"I'm plenty happy," you grumble sinking further into your seat. you appreciate their attempt to cheer you up but it's honestly not needed. you're happy to be in second place even with all the newly founded pressure; just a little confused about what was expected of you. "ecstatic even. let's talk about something else."

your head feels fuzzy. nothing feels real anymore. but it's good. great even. you feel so fucking good. like you've rid yourself of every lingering thought that wrapped itself around your body. you're light. you're free. the shimmering blue of the giant fish tanks is so mesmerising; you almost want to climb in but instead, you watch. colours morphing and shifting before your eyes. back and forth. back and forth. you jump a little as something touches your shoulder. "here you are." their words seem distant; muffled even. "you good?" you nod a little continuing to stare at the fish. two hands slip around your waist and connect in front. you feel their body press into yours from behind. you know it's Jordan. you know they're masc. You know them well. their smokey cologne. the way their body feels around you. the subtle differences between both forms. taller. bigger. firm. you let out a content hum. it's a rarity for such open affection. "what are you doing?" whispered in your ear.

"Just watching the fish,"

"why?"

"do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a fish?" you wonder softly. "to just swim around all day without a care in the world… no complex family systems. no pressure to be the best. just… swimming and pretty colours." their chuckle is temperate. affectionate. it almost seems like they somehow get closer.

"you're fucked, huh?"

"I'm good. I'm great," you respond. they just chuckle again, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. your relationship with Jordan was hardly one of romance. you have slept together. a few times actually. and some kind of feelings are there; at least for you there are but you're not dating. you're just… having fun. maybe you want more. who knows? you don't. would they even want more? probably not. you'd like it. maybe. doesn't matter. they make you feel warm. safe even. and that's all that really matters.

"shall we get you a drink?" you nod a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," you repeat nodding more eagerly. a dopey smile settling on your lips as you let your head fall back; nuzzling against him. "something fruity, please."

"let's get you something fruity," arms vacate your waist replaced with a hand in yours.

"bye fishies," you throw a wave back. "say bye Jordan."

"Absolutely not." they interlock your fingers before leading the way back into the turbulent crowd of the club.

"you're no fun." you groan playfully. weaving through the mass of people back towards the bar, you come across cate. as you approach, Jordan let's go.

"you found her then," shouted over the heavy bass and mess of voices.

"she was alone staring at the fish tanks," they respond.

"the fish were really pretty," you contribute with a bright smile.

"you gotta stop running off, silly."

"but the fishies-"

"I know they're pretty but still," cate continues. "do you wanna come dance?"

"hmmm… yes." you respond brightly. "jordan's gonna get me a drink. jordan get cate one too."

"yeah Jordan, get cate one too." cate repeats playfully. her hand slides into yours and she pulls you towards the dance floor. it's a lot of blurred colours as you sway and move alongside the blonde. she wears a playful smile and smells so good. really sweet. like freshly baked cookies. "are you good?"

"mhmm,"

"you sure?" it's so loud out here. there are so many people around you. it's hard to pick up what is being said.

"I am so good, cate," you respond loudly. "I mean definitely fucked but yeah. are you good?"

"yeah," she nods. "I'm-" the rest of her sentence is impossible to comprehend.

"what?"

cate places her hands on your shoulders bringing you to a stop as she leans in extra close. "i said i'm proud of you."

"you're starting to sound like my mom," you joke. she playfully hits your arm. "but thank you."

"i think you could actually take luke's spot."

"i definitely can." you declare proudly. "dean shetty offered to help."

"really?" cate seems shocked by the idea. "why?"

you shrug. "i'm gonna be in the seven one day." you yell loudly. nobody cares. everyone is being loud. it'd drowned out by everything else. cate stares at you for a moment before letting her smile return.

"fuck yeah, you are," cate shouts. your smile brightens. fuck yeah, you are.

your head pounds with the weight of your bad decisions. maybe you went a little too hard. Nausea settles deep in the pit of your stomach. you think you're gonna throw up. you don't. you breathe deeply through it. a long groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back; stretching out your limbs as far as they go to very little relief. A pain radiates from your left leg. god only knows why. you're just a little achy. how did you even get here? the last thing you remember is dancing with Cate; having fun.

"she's alive," the voice catches you off guard. it sounds like… wait. your eyes finally focus on the person in the room who definitely wasn't your roommate. that black hair. that pretty face. the effortless expression of too cool to be here. jordan li is still in the exact same outfit as last night. why were they here? "how's our newest celebrity?"

there were many ways you could answer but your brain could only come up with. "shitty."

"I bet," they approach the end of your bed, holding out a glass of water. "here."

you slowly push yourself up into a seated position. trying desperately to ignore the intense pressure building in your head. "why are you here?" you ask, accepting the glass and taking a long, big gulp.

"Jordan stayed all night," your roommate, Beth, interjects. By her tone, she was not happy with your newfound company. "would have been nice to know."

"I'm allowed to have people in our room, Beth." you hand the glass back to Jordan before falling back down against the bed. rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger. "I wanna die."

"tell me next time." Beth continues to argue. "instead I wake up to a stranger in our room."

you groan loudly. this was too much talking for your poor delicate head to handle right now. "I'm right here, guys," Jordan insists. "I literally spoke to you last night."

"I'm making a point." your roommate argues. "I'd like a heads up."

"gooooood! okay- sorry," you groan. you really don't care this much

"Okay, well, I gotta go," Jordan hums. "wasn't supposed to stay this long just wanted to make sure you're cool."

"I'm fine. go," you wave a dismissive hand as your eyes flutter close. "thanks for getting me home."

"any time," their weight leaves the bed and you roll onto your side to face the wall. pulling the duvet closer around your body. "I'll text you- bye Beth."

"bye Jordan." you hear the door click and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. it's preferable to the loud conversation that just happened. it's a relief to your head. you just want to go back to sleep. "they must really like you."

urgh. you don't want to talk anymore. "yeah, jordans cool."

"no, I mean, they like you," Beth continues on. you bury yourself further into your cocoon of pillows and duvet. "stayed the whole night just to keep an eye on you. I said it was fine- you'd be fine but they insisted."

Jordan insisted? just how fucked up were you that Jordan li of all people would stay the night just to make sure you were okay? you guys were good friends but most of the time they were either bullying you or treating you like a child which is like a subset of bullying you. you remember them wrapping their arms around you as you watched the fish last night. you've seen Jordan's softer side obviously but yeah. "we're just friends, dude."

"All I know is that Jordan li, as far as I've seen and heard, would not do that for just anyone. they're into you."

"sure. fine. whatever." you growl. you just wanted this conversation to end. Jordan was cool but if you think about this for too long your head is gonna explode. right now, sleep was what you needed. "Jordan Li is in love with me. I'm going back to sleep." it's hard not to think about what Beth suggested. that Jordan was into you as more than just a friend and occasionally fuck buddy. is that something you should talk about? What if Beth was wrong and you bring it up and it makes things super weird? you can't handle that. you have like a million classes together, you would never be able to escape them.

it was a bright sunny day in the quad of Godolkin University. you sit in the courtyard. a laptop, criminology textbooks and a water bottle spread across the table. you have an essay due in a few days. you had sat down to work on this essay multiple times with a beautiful blank document and many hours on TikTok to show for it. "hey," your TikTok time is interrupted by none other than Jordan Li. you had not seen them since that night or morning. you hadn't really spoken either. you weren't avoiding them by any means. you were just busy and they hadn't seemed too eager to talk so. "hey," they say after a moment. "how's the essay going?"

"so great," you flash a smile. "I've written so much."

"that good, huh," they joke awkwardly taking a sip of their coffee. you just hum in response. you need to get this done. no time to add Jordan to the list of distractions. after a few moments of silence, they speak up again. "I was hoping we could talk

"Can this wait? I really need to get this done."

"I guess…" Jordan trailed off. you look at him for a moment. he seems disheartened by your request.

"what's up?"

"it… doesn't matter. don't worry." a small smile settles on their lips. "I should go."

"you sure?"

Jordan pushes up from their seat. "I'll see you later."

that was weird. definitely something you need to come back to later when you're not working on a deadline. for now, you had an essay to, at the very least, start.

"Have you spoken to Jordan recently?" you ask Cate as you slide into a booth at the on-campus Vought - a - burger. the smell of deep-fried food hangs heavy in the air and you know damn well this table is probably gonna be sticky as hell. "I feel like they're ignoring me."

"What makes you think that?"

"the fact that they're quite literally ignoring me. I've text them a couple times and nothing. even in class, they can hardly look at me." you reach into the bag to pull out the food; placing it on napkins in front of you. cate hands you your drink in exchange for her order. "I feel bad. they tried to talk to me the other day but I wanted to get my essay done."

"they've seemed fine to me but I've been working on a project for my hero management class." Cate shrugs. "is this about what happened the other night?"

"what happened the other night?" you questioned, popping a fry into your mouth. it actually tasted fresh and salty; guess you came at the correct time. you hate it when they're all soggy.

"I don't know if it's my place to say- you were pretty high."

"did I do something… bad?" you didn't remember that night but you never imagined you would ever do something inappropriate.

"no. not bad." you can tell she regrets bringing this up; whatever this is. torn between wanting to help and not overstepping boundaries. She is about to continue when two girls approach the table. freshmen you presume. you've never seen them before.

"Can we get a selfie?" the taller of the two requests. you frown a little.

"we're actually trying to have a private con-"

"it'll just take a minute," they turn around and hold the camera out, snapping a picture before you have a chance to react. "thanks." they scurry off almost immediately. you'll probably find yourself tagged in a picture on Instagram later. it had been happening a lot recently; so much so that you had to turn notifications off.

"the fuck?" you share a confused look with Cate. "people are so rude."

"they're just excited. you're basically a celebrity to them," Cate chuckles.

"do you think Jordan hates me now?" you wonder bringing the conversation back to Li.

"it's probably just because of the rankings."

"you mean because I took their spot?"

"Jordan has always been pretty intense when it came to rankings. they've wanted that top spot for as long as I've known them." Cate explains, hiding her mouth as she shoves more food into her mouth. "must suck that you just jumped to two and have the dean in your corner no less." you never really considered how Jordan must be handling all this. you knew they'd be a little upset but this seemed extreme.

"I never really thought about that," you sigh softly. "should I apologise?"

"I don't know," Cate resumes, biting the head off some fries. "if you think it'd help."

"I don't know why they didn't just tell me that when we first found out," you frown a little. "they were a little distant but they seemed cool when we went out."

"maybe you should just try talking to them," Cate suggests, picking up her drink. She takes a swift sip before continuing. "if it's about rankings or the other night- I don't know. only Jordan does."

"what happened the other night?" you ask again.

"ask Jordan."

"I'm asking you, Cate."

"you were just a lot and said some things."

"Cate!" you huff, falling back. you know Cate well. you know when she's avoiding something. "I know you're being cryptic so I give up on it."

"it's just not my place. it's between you and Jordan. I don't wanna get in the middle." Cate presses sharply. "did you get your essay done?"

"no," you shake your head. "I ended up getting an extension- how am I supposed to speak to them when they're ignoring me?"

"i don't know- can we please talk about something else?" Cate pleads.

"Sure," you hum softly. taking another fry you dip it into some sauce. "let's talk about how I'm about to fail criminology."

you text Jordan that you're coming over. It wasn't a question but a statement. no option to refuse. you needed to sort this out and being direct was the best approach. did every inch of your body buzz with anxiety as you made your way towards their dorm room? yes. but it beat constantly thinking about every little interaction you had with Jordan in the past week trying to figure out exactly what you had done wrong. the only blank spot was that night and Cate had unintentionally convinced you that you had done something absolutely awful. maybe you told them you hate them or invalidated their identity in some way? fuck. you swallow hard staring at their closed door. you shake out the nerves before knocking. knock. knock. knock. and the door swings open to reveal Jordan. "hey," they hum before retreating into the safety of their dorm. shutting the door behind you, you step inside the all too familiar space; you had been here a great many times and yet today there was a weird vibe. it felt foreign. cold even. "so what did you wanna talk about?" for a split second you almost forgot why you were here. you turn to Jordan who is sitting on the couch, a laptop thrown off to the side now. your eyes fall to the homelander Vought-a-burger toy that has somehow become a staple of this room. leader of the seven. currently facing major allegations. "you good?"

"Are you mad at me?" you blurt out. "is it about the rankings? I know they mean a lot to you and I basically took your spot so I get it if you're mad. it's a little unfair because I've always wanted this too but like I get it." your rambling but you can't help yourself. you need to get this all out as quickly as possible before your brain catches on and you chicken out. "And I'm sorry about the other day, I just really needed to get my essay done. I ended up getting an extension because I was so stressed out about it, I just couldn't start." you can't bring yourself to look at them. "or if I did something shitty on that night out. I'm sorry. it was fucked-"

"whoa dude, chill out," Jordan ultimately interrupts. "you're talking a lot." you dare a glance at them. their face is pretty neutral so you have no clue what was going on in their head. "what are you even asking?"

"why are you avoiding me?" you ask. "I've clearly done something wrong."

a heavy sigh leaves their lips as they fall back against the plush fabric. "I'll admit I was a little annoyed with the rankings at first but I'm working on it. this is like a really big deal for you."

"so you're not mad at me?" you sound so pathetic. an even bigger sigh leaves their lips. you're not sure what that means but nobody sighs that heavily for good reason. they push to their feet, crossing the room towards you.

"I'm not mad at you," they say softly as they approach. for a second they hold your gaze as they linger close but then they flicker away. "I'm just… confused."

"About what?" they take a step closer. so close. too close. their hot breath pricks at your skin but you don't dare move away. you almost feel drawn to them.

"Is this okay?" they say quietly.

"Are you only doing this so we'll stop talking about it?" their head shakes just a little.

"no," their hand graces over your neck and up to the bottom of your jaw. Their thumb gently brushes your skin, sending a chill down your spine. there would always be something about Jordan Li that made you melt inside. when they're here and so close, you almost forget all your worries. the way they look at you. like you're the only person in the world. a feather-like embrace is enough to send you spinning. "I don't think I can just be your friend anymore," whispered against your lips. "I… like you too." they pull back.

"Jordan,"

"I need you to say it- I need you to say it sober so I don't feel like a fucking idiot," say it sober? when did you say it in the first place? maybe this was what Cate was talking about. the thing you couldn't remember. you admitted to having feelings for Jordan. fuck.

"I…" you trail off, the words are caught in your throat. this is gonna change everything?

"It's cool," they declare loudly, letting their hand fall as they away. "I get it."

"no Jordan-"

"no it's fine. you were fucked. it didn't mean anything- I shouldn't have said anything."

"Jordan," you say louder, reaching out for their hand. a deep regret fills your stomach. you liked Jordan. they meant a lot to you and you were throwing it all away because you were scared; terrified even. if this doesn't work out then you ruin everything. there's no coming back from this.

"don't," they yank their hand away. "please don't. I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity."

"I don't get you." they huff. "you're all over me and then you want nothing to do with me. you tell everyone you like me but then… nothing? it's… confusing-"

"Jordan just- stop please," you say loudly. "I… like you, okay?"

"don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you say a tad more confidently. "I like you." you try to reach for them again. they let you take their hand. " i don't know what it means exactly but I do… like you… too." you squeeze their hand slightly. it's warm and fits so perfectly in yours. they turn back to you with a smile. a small genuine smile that fills you with butterflies. they really did mean so much to you.

"so… now what?" they ask.

"I don't know." you pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. "but I do have to go."

"Seriously?"

"I have a meeting with Dean Shetty." you express. "I'm sorry. She wants me at some dinner so."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Whole Again

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You're injured during a raid, but your boyfriend Luca doesn't know how bad it is. After you're separated and instructed not to speak, your team finds a way to let you comfort one another.

Warnings: angst, r is shot, a civilian is killed during a raid, fluffy comfort!

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“One more thing,” Hondo says as you approach the raid location in Black Betty.

“He’s going to hear us coming at this rate, Hondo,” you complain playfully.

“Maybe you can just talk until he surrenders,” Street agrees. “It wouldn’t take long for me.”

“Funny,” Hondo replies, even though you can tell he is amused. “You must want me to say something about the little fling going on here.”

“There isn’t a fling,” Luca calls from the driver’s seat. “And Hicks knows about the relationship.”

“But nice try,” you add.

“Stay liquid,” Hondo concludes, shaking his head as he smiles.

“Fifteen seconds,” Deacon alerts, sitting in the front by Luca.

“Let’s do this!”

You pull your helmet over your head and prepare to exit Black Betty as Luca stops three houses down from your final destination. The man holed up in the dilapidated bungalow down the road has warrants for three violent crimes and has racked up enough charges in fees from missing court over the years to pay off every student loan in America, you think. He’s dangerous, but you trust your team, and patrol officers have given you good intel. Right now, his house is as quiet as it gets. He should be inside, asleep, and likely won’t even know SWAT raided his home until he wakes up in jail later today.

“We got this,” Luca whispers beside you.

“Be careful,” you reply before splitting up.

Luca goes with Deacon to the west side of the house, and you branch off with Street to enter through the back door. Your relationship with Luca isn’t new, but it’s still growing. Luckily for today, you’re out of the stage where being away from him during a breach like this terrified you and it was hard to breathe until you saw him on the other side.

You take a deep breath as Street counts down with Hondo. The explosive on the door blows loudly, and Street leads you into the kitchen at the back of the house as you cover him.

Very quickly, you realize that all of the intel was bad. Hondo curses over the comms, and you begin yelling with your teammates.

“LAPD SWAT!” you yell with Street. “On the ground now! Everybody on the floor!”

The rest of your team is out of sight, caught in different parts of the house, but you can hear them shouting commands. In the kitchen and living room, standing before you and Street, at least 30 men are pushing toward you slowly, speaking to one another in Spanish when they aren’t yelling at you.

“Any ideas?” you ask Street.

“Flash bang?” he replies.

You nod and trade places with him, holding your gun against your shoulder. Several shots echo through the house as Street pulls the small flash-bang from his pocket. Unable to tell where the shots came from, if it was your team shooting or being shot at, you force yourself to focus.

“Back up!” you yell as a man steps toward you.

Just before Street throws the device, someone at the back of the crowd raises a pistol. You begin to warn Street, but you don’t get the chance. Before you hear the shot, the bullet knocks you backward and throws you against Street. He scrambles away from you quickly to keep the men away from you. Three flash bangs detonate simultaneously, and 50 Squad enters the front door to provide much-needed backup.

“Everybody good?” Rocker asks as patrol officers begin escorting the disoriented criminals out of the house.

“I think so,” Hondo replies. “Deacon and Luca are with me.”

Luca looks around, expecting you to walk out of the hallway joking with Street.

“Hondo!” Street yells from the kitchen.

Luca’s chest tightens, his heart feels like it leaps dangerously in his chest, and he steps forward to follow Hondo with pure fear running through his veins.

“Hold it!” Hicks calls, walking into the house with Jessica at his side. “20 Squad, get out of here.”

Hondo explains that something is up with you and Street, but Hicks repeats himself. Rocker nods and then disappears around the corner into the kitchen and doesn’t speak again.

“You can’t talk before the investigation begins,” Jessica adds.

“He didn’t make it?” Hondo asks, remembering the man who was shot.

Jessica shakes her head, and Hondo leaves the house without knowing how his team is. As Deacon prepares to follow him, he pushes Luca forward gently.

“I know,” Deacon says softly. “But we have to go.”

Rocker returns just as Luca stumbles out of hearing distance and requests a medic get inside. The same medic who announced the civilian DOA rushes into the house with a large medical bag bouncing against his hip. Street, however, is told to leave and grumbles as he exits the house.

“I’m fine,” you grumble as he kneels beside you. “It hit my vest.”

The medic pulls your vest over your head carefully, then unbuttons your uniform shirt and pulls the neck of your undershirt away from your chest. He shines a small flashlight against your skin before letting your shirt fall back into place.

“No hospital trip for you today,” he says. “You’re going to be sore and have a painful bruise for a few days, but your vest did its job.”

“Where’s my team?” you ask, hissing as you sit up.

“Headed back to HQ,” Jessica says.

You look up quickly, surprised to see her here.

“A civilian was shot, he’s dead,” she explains. “Until we figure out who took the shot, you can’t see them.”

“I need to tell Luca I’m okay,” you argue. “Two words, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You stand, refusing her help as you follow another officer to a cruiser. As you fall into the passenger seat, tired and sore, you wonder how Luca will react to this sudden separation.

When you arrive at the station, you get permission to change in the locker room before taking your place in a private room to speak to Internal Affairs. The door closes behind you, and Luca steps out of the shower area, still wearing his tactical gear. He rushes toward you and carefully takes your shoulders as his eyes travel up and down your frame.

You take his hands and smile as you promise, “I’m okay.”

Luca hugs you carefully, though it's more him awkwardly wrapping his arms around you than hugging. “What did the medic say?” he asks.

Before you can answer or get too comfortable in his hold, an IA investigator opens the door and demands, “Officer Luca, we need you.”

“Can I get just a second?” he requests.

“No.”

You can see Luca’s attitude shift as he steps back. He doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re injured, and being forced to makes him grumpy. But he’s a good officer, and he’s going to listen. For a while, at least.

“I’m sorry, Luca,” Hicks says in the hallway. “But it’s protocol.”

“I don’t even know what happened to her!” he argues.

“And you won’t until after we’re finished. But I can promise you she’s okay.”

Luca stops outside the door where the IA team is waiting. He lowers his voice to reply, “She got shot, Hicks, you know she isn’t.”

Several minutes later, you exit the locker room in the most comfortable clothes you could find. After finding a place to sit and wait, you watch the hallway opening, hoping that Luca will come down here at some point and you can explain everything to him.

“Luca!” you call as he exits an office.

He steps backward, then turns to walk toward you.

“Officer Luca,” the officer behind him directs. “This way, please.”

Luca’s jaw tightens as his anger increases. The grumpiness he showed in the locker room was cute, you thought, but he’s getting worse. If you don’t get a chance to tell him what the medic said soon, he might snap and get himself in trouble. So, you decide to find an opening to promise you’re okay.

“Officer Luca,” the man repeats. You look up again, surprised to see Luca squaring his shoulders before the other man. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he warns lowly.

Luca’s fingers tighten into a fist, but he turns and storms away. You exhale in relief, then stand and follow them at a distance. The officer instructs Luca to wait by the sparring ring, then walks into Hick’s office.

Because he’s alone, you walk to Luca's side and bend forward to kiss his cheek. After kissing his cheek, you begin to pull away from him. “The medic said I’d be sore and bruised for a while, but the vest kept the bullet from doing any real damage. I’m absolutely okay, Luca. I promise.”

Luca nods, and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You walk away from Luca and feel his eyes on you until you turn the corner to return to your previous place.

“Where were you?” Jessica asks.

“I needed a tissue,” you lie. “Are they ready for me?”

“Not yet. Do you need anything?”

You sit down and shake your head. The only thing you need is Luca, and you already know the answer to that request.

You let your eyes close as you continue to wait. Soft footsteps echo in the hallway before they stop beside you. You recognize Luca’s touch as he lays his hand on your thigh and squats beside you. Opening your eyes, you smile and lean forward to wrap him in a hug. He reciprocates, being careful of where he touches you.

“Incoming,” someone warns from the end of the hall.

As Luca stands, you see Street standing guard and smile to thank him.

“We’re going to get time to talk,” Luca promises. “I’ll be back.”

You assume that the rest of your team will assist him in returning, likely aware of how worried he is. Over the next few hours, you’re all in and out of interviews with IA to account for every move and every breath you took in the house. Between those conversations, you and Luca find each other in quiet hallways, behind open doors, and tucked behind lockers for tiny moments to talk and show each other that you’re okay. The worry goes both ways: Luca is worried about your injury and you’re worried about his happiness and carrying residual concern about losing sight of him during the raid. The little moments aren’t enough, but they’re something, and your team helps you find every spare second you can.

Hiding behind Hondo so it appears that he and Luca are simply facing opposite directions to bide time, you ask, “Can I come over tonight?”

“If you think there’s another option, we need to get your head checked.”

“Sergeant Hondo, we’re ready for you,” someone calls before you duck around a corner and return to solitude.

Twenty minutes later, Hicks and Hondo exit his office together.

“20 Squad!” Hicks calls.

You join Deacon’s side, and he offers you an arm, unsure what the extent of your injury is. You smile and thank him, but don’t have a chance to tell him why you said no before Hicks dismisses you.

“IA has cleared all of you, you’re free to go home and get some rest,” he adds. “Sorry again about all of this, but…”

“We know how it is,” Deacon responds.

You take Luca’s hand as you walk to the locker room, and don’t let go as you gather your things and walk to his truck. The ride to his house is spent in silence. There’s too much to say, too many emotions involved, to have the conversation in the car.

Luca helps you inside and invites you to get comfortable. Once you’re in his bed, he climbs beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Turning slightly, you let Luca rest his head on your shoulder as his other arm lies gently across your waist.

“Are you okay?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back.

Luca moves slightly, and you suddenly realize that he’s crying. You slide down in the bed, not caring that it hurts, to take his face in your hands.

“Luca,” you murmur, holding him tightly. “It’s okay.”

You fall silent then and let Luca release all the emotions he’s been carrying since this morning. Several minutes later, he quiets but keeps his arm around you as you hold him.

“I’m okay,” you promise softly. “I’m sorry.”

Luca shakes his head, silently promising he’s not angry with you. “I thought I was going to lose you. It terrified me.”

“Hey,” you whisper, encouraging him to look into your eyes. “I’m never leaving you.”

“You can’t make that promise.”

You nod, then amend, “I’m not leaving you, not without a fight. I’ll come back to you, even if I’m crawling, okay?”

Luca hugs you tightly, then releases you to say, “Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?”

You laugh at his reaction, getting close to him again. “I’m great now. I love you, Luca.”

“I love you,” he replies. “I’m not leaving you either.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t punch anyone in IA.”

Luca groans, dropping his head against your shoulder. You feel whole again beside Luca despite the pain and fear of the day. Luca’s phone vibrates with a text from Street asking when Luca will cook to thank them for helping you today, and though you ignore it, knowing that your team cares about you and your relationship makes everything a little better.

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 12: 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

title: a helping hand synopsis: there is an aspect of sailing in the grand line you failed to consider: there is no one to fuck. of course, that's only true if you ignore your crew as candidates. [0.5K] cw: sorry for the delay! reader has a little crush on luffy, masturbation, accidental orgasm denial, accidental/non-accidental voyeurism.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

A wrong word, and you snapped. Ignoring Chopper’s instructions, walking away the second Nami mentioned her deals and fees, starting arguments with Zoro. For the entire day, your boiling mind stopped you from thinking straight.

It wasn’t a good day. And the worst part? You knew your companions weren’t to blame. No one did anything wrong. No one is. And if it were to find someone to blame, then it would be your lack of imagination.

There is an aspect of sailing in the Grand Line you failed to consider: there is no one to fuck.

It’s been a few weeks since the last island, and you were too busy surviving Enel to find someone to distress with up there in Skypea. It was a tiring week. And you never considered your companions as candidates. Everything would be too weird after it.

Although Luffy…

You sighed, closing your eyes again. How you wish you haven’t told everyone you were sleeping sooner today. All you wanted was to touch yourself and sleep right after. But here you are, unable of reaching a single orgasm even after trying for minutes, so tense you actually considered looking out for Luffy.

Different from yourself, Luffy would probably make you finish.

“Stop that”, you groaned, taking the dildo from your walls. You stared at the ceiling, hands away from your body. Feeling as the waves moved Merry, you finally surrender: nothing would change the fact this day was meant to be awful.

Cold air made shivers run down your body, and your eyes instinctively turned towards your bedroom’s door. It was open. Nothing new. Sometimes it unlocks as the ship moves. The problem was that you saw Robin standing there, hands holding a plate probably meant for you, blue eyes wide open.

“Fuck”, you murmured. You closed your legs, thanking every deity for you to still be using an old shirt. “Robin-I…”

“Don’t worry”, she said. Robin put the plate down at your messy desk, hands moving towards the handle. “Do you need help?”

You blinked a few times, to embarrassed to understand what was happening.

“You look pretty… strained.” Robin flashed you a delicate smile. “And I can give you a hand. Or a few.”

“Alright”, licking your lips, you nodded. “I need your help, Robin.”

She locked the door, moving a chair to the end of your bed. She sat down, watching you from afar. Before you could think of something to say, a hand grabbed your chin and made you lay down once more.

There were so many of them. Opening your legs, placing your feet on the bed, holding your thighs apart. Fingers entering your mouth, scratching your head, pinching your nipples. Not a single part of you haven’t been touched, groped, caressed.

“I like this expression better on you”, Robin rested her chin on her palm, admiring you. “Maybe this will solve your awful mode.”

Well… After a few hours, you did fell asleep.

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi @miyanosm @idonthaveanameforthisacc

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[user211201]

Chet

--- Originally posted on 2023-05-24 by shapedbydesire ---

--- Images have been removed since they are too explicit ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

When openly gay, neat freak charles wished he could “know what goes on in that brain” of his older brother, chet, he had never thought that someone would be listening to him — let alone that they’d be willing to grant his ill-fated wish.

he awoke from his midday nap in a rush of heat, pale cheeks flushed, bleached hair wet with sweat against his forehead, curls of armpit hair poking out from beneath his sore, swelling arms and starting to reek. wait… but he shaves daily? doesn’t he?

he blinks, a little disoriented, eyes trying to focus on the dim light in the room. the last thing he remembers is saying those words, and feeing tired out of nowhere, but now he just feels a little nauseous. it only becomes more worse as he looks around his private space to see everything has changed around him.

his gaming setup has become a workout bench littered with dirty socks and compression shorts, his bookshelf replaced with a cheap xbox and a stack of fifa & madden games. he sneers at this, wondering for a moment if he somehow crashed inside chet’s room by accident, but no. as familiar as it all feels, this is his first time ever being inside this particular room. he sits up, eyes glancing to the wall and noticing a woman in a tight bikini squeezing her large breasts on a poster. he wants to think that it’s degrading and awfully toxic, but he’s alarmed when the only voice that speaks inside his head is chet’s. or at least it sounds just like him, low and bovine and with a hint of stupidity. “shittt, i wanna motorboat those puppies.”

never in his life had charles ever thought something so disrespectful about a woman, and yet hard as he tried, he couldn’t conjure any other comment inside his head. he saw boobs and his brain wanted him to stick his face into right them, and that was it. no “i wonder what her personality is like,” not even a “she has kind eyes.” he looks again at the poster and tries to ignore the throbbing in his dick, the pulse like a heartbeat. “fuck,” he gasps, not sure what has caused him to become so aroused. no girl had ever made his sick erect before. his wet dream was to end up with a beefy bear.

“shit, bro. imagine that tight cunt on your rod, milking the seed out of you. fuckkk, imagine that slim belly swollen with your future son inside. breed that fuckin’ pussy!”

charles places his hands over his ears, trying and failing to block out the new narrator inside his mind. He thinks about getting up, running to the shower and taking a long, cold one, but he can only gaze down at his engorged cock bobbing up and down beneath his cheap boxers, an athletic pair not at all close to the designer jockstrap he had fallen asleep in. He can smell the stale scent of sweat in the room, and then it’s only intensified the longer he holds up his arms, looking to see more curls of damp, sweaty hair peeking out. Just like his brother, never bothering to groom or practice good hygiene, he opens his lips to whimper and make a frightened sound, but all that comes out is a deep and gruff moan.

The hand that grips his thick cock through the boxer fabric is rough and calloused, as if he had spent his childhood tossing around footballs just like his jock older brother. “I love football. Football and tits and cunt are the only three things a man needs in life,” his inner monologue continues, his head arching back and his Adam’s apple thickening, protruding from his widening neck. “And a nice cold beer. A bimbo with lip fillers choking on your cock.” His eyes are alight with panic and confusion, his biceps swelling up with every stroke of his hand against his shaft, his hair darkening from its dyed shade to a more natural, casual, lazy style.

He falls back against the bed, hips buckling against the air, watching as tendrils of wiry, dark, sweaty hair erupts across his chest and down to his toning stomach, abdominal muscles popping into existence. “Holy shit,” he grunts, working himself to climax, all the while all the traces of the old Charles have collected inside a swollen pair of bull nuts. Churning with his inferior, wimpy genes, being consumed and replaced by that of an alpha just like his best bro. All Charles wants to do is scream, ask for help, beg for a take back on his wish, but his jaw cracks into a sharp, defined chin, his smirk cocky and handsome and stupid.

“Fuck yeah, I’m the alpha.” The last thing Charles sees before the new man inside him takes over is a barrage of vaginas squirting, boobs bouncing, bubble butts twerking in tight little stripper uniforms. There’s drool trickling down his chin, an ape-like dumbness in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ bustin’ a nut, bro!!”

Chad expels his former self all over his hairy, firm muscle tits. He thinks about how he and his bro need to get ready for the gym, and how he needs to find a bimbo to face fuck before he has to jack himself off again. He’s still so damn horny!

“Haha, good for you, little bro!” Chet calls from the next room over. His voice no longer lives inside Chad’s head — but it’s not like they don’t think the same shit, anyway.

[fizzyxcustard]

Under Your Spell

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, insecurity, a little angst (with a happy ending)

Word count: 1571

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You put a spell on Thorin to make him fall in love with you, but as the spell wears off, you find out that he has always loved you." Requested by @asgardianhobbit98

Written while listening to Journey's Greatest Hits.

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thank you to everyone who supported me during my posting hiatus. I felt like it was needed to get back into a better mindset after I become incredibly overwhelmed by another one of my fics' reception.

The last twenty four hours had been beyond perfect. The spell which you had been keeping for the last few months, ready for the chance to use, had worked better than you could have imagined. Thorin had declared undying love to you as the sun set; the two of you having just shared dinner together with a large group. Then once on your own together, he had been so open in his affection toward you, blushing and smiling as the words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“I love you more than anything,” he had told you, confident and bold. He had taken your hand, kissed it, then asked for you to join him on the royal balcony. 

The two of you had sipped wine, while Thorin gazed at you over the top of the glass, unable to tear his gaze from you. 

You shared tender kisses, hand holding, and Thorin had held you as you fell asleep. Then you woke in his arms, warm and content. He had been watching you, and as you woke from your slumber, he smiled at you and kissed your head. 

All of that day and you had remained in Thorin’s presence, sharing meals, conversations, kisses. 

“Would you join me again tonight on the balcony? It is forecast that we should have a clear night sky.”

“Of course,” you had replied. Only now, sadness began to seep from your words, unable to hide any further. The realisation that all of this would be over at sundown was growing heavy in your heart and gut. The spell would only last for one twenty four hour period, and could only ever be used on one person once in their life. After sundown, and Thorin would return to his former self, purely a friend to you and your King, nothing more than that. 

It was almost sundown, and you excused yourself from Thorin’s chambers, telling him that you wished to quickly write a letter to a friend. He just smiled at you, his eyes so full of adoration, as you disappeared out of the door. 

As you walked the corridors back to your bed chamber, you felt tears fall down your cheeks. The pain was so heavy and hot in your chest. Just to have Thorin adore you for twenty four hours had been perfect beyond any kind of comprehension. However, the fall back to reality was going to be excruciating. In time, another woman would have Thorin fall for them, and this time it would be of his own choice.  

You lit your candles and sat down on the edge of your bed, staring at the vase of roses that Thorin had had brought to your chamber. They could now be disposed of as they would just serve as a reminder of your pathetic need to have Thorin love you. 

All sense of time slipped away from you as you fell asleep on your bed, still fully dressed. Once you had lay out on your bed, you had not moved. Tears had flowed, pulling you into your subconscious world where you could be happy temporarily. 

Dreams came and went, flickering pictures of far off lands that you had explored with the Company, months earlier, where you had fallen for their leader. Flashes of sunlight bouncing off swords and the calls of armies became a jumble in your mind. 

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting. The candles had gone out hours ago. There was a dull thump behind your eyes and you winced, blinking hard. 

For a second, you felt as if you were still in a dream somewhere. You could feel something resting on your waist, curled around. Blinking again, you looked down and could make out a hand. On the middle finger was a ring. 

You gasped and shifted away suddenly, almost dropping out of bed. “What?” you choked. 

Thorin was lying on your bed, and was now rousing. His eyes opened slowly and he smiled at the sight of you. “Come back to bed, my love,” he said sleepily. “It’s still early.” 

“But…how?”

He just smiled again and sat up. “You think a spell could make me love you?” 

“How did you know about it?” 

“I’ve known about it quite some time now,” he replied. “I will not name any names, but I was made aware that you acquired the spell from someone in Lake-town, did you not?”

Shame hit you hard and you lowered your head, feeling the tears fall once again. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “And now you are playing along to mock me; the spell wore off at night fall yesterday.” 

Thorin got up from the bed and followed the edge of it towards you. “Why would you think I’d ever mock you?” He stood before you, his head to once side in question and disbelief that you could ever think such a thing. 

“I was stupid to ever think you could love me,” you hissed. 

Anger flared in Thorin’s eyes and on impulse he grabbed your hip and threw you both into a kiss. It was hot, demanding, needing. So much unlike the day earlier. All you could do in your weakness was cling to him, your backside resting against your dresser. He was pressing into you harder now, his tongue desperate in your mouth. 

Thorin drew back from you, his blue eyes ablaze. They were no longer soft like the day before, but they were on fire. That had always been the true Thorin, and as you had known him for the last six months: passionate, on fire. He pressed his forehead to you and then kissed it. 

You closed your eyes as you felt his hand become buried in your hair. His other hand was still on your hip. There was a desperation in his actions. The day earlier and he had wanted to be in your company, to look upon you. Now, he needed to touch you. 

The two of you kissed again, hard and needing. You could feel your inhibitions let go, and your hands became tangled up in his hair, your breath lost, your heart pounding. 

He whispered your name, needing you. 

Within minutes and the two of you were back on your bed, disrobed and exploring each other. Thorin’s lips caressed every inch of you, and when he was kissing down the inside of your thigh, he looked up at you. “Why did you ever think you needed a spell to capture my heart? It was always yours.” 

The two of you joined, exhaling in relief at the pent up frustration. Thorin was over you, his one hand gripping yours. To feel him connected with you, feel him inside you, giving himself over to you by choice, that was the true magic. 

Your bodies were synchronised, moving together in rhythm so well. 

Each and every time Thorin’s gaze connected with yours, and you could see the love for you there. It burned. The spell you had cast had diluted his true love, and his gaze the day earlier had been as if he weren’t quite in the room with you. Now he was present for every second. 

Every thrust was now making you build upward towards climax. The sensations feeling as if waves were cascading down your body, until the last one took hold. It came from the base of your stomach, and shattered outward. You shook, and as you rode out that one spectacular wave, Thorin kept his gaze locked on you. 

The sensation of you gripping Thorin’s girth in your plateau pushed him over the edge, and he spilled. He dug his head against your neck, groaning at the wondrous pleasure that washed over him. 

Both of you fell down beside each other, panting and sweating. Thorin reached for you, and you rolled over to him, and put your head on his chest. “Is that what true love feels like?” you gasped. 

“No spell could ever replicate that,” Thorin said softly. “When you first placed the spell on me, it was as if I couldn’t control my words, and no longer could I keep my feelings for you secret. But the expression of my love for you, it…I cannot describe it. It was as if it was dulled, and when dusk came, the spell having ended, my heart and my body burned for you again, like it always had. The spell stopped me feeling that love in a true sense.” 

“Why did you never tell me how you felt?” you asked, propping yourself up on your arm. 

“I was terrified of rejection. The spell at least took away my cowardice.” 

“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known, and yet you couldn’t tell me you loved me?” you asked, not quite able to believe such a revelation. “You lead a kingdom, and armies, yet you couldn’t tell me three simple words.” 

Thorin sighed. “You did not tell me either.” 

“I had reason not to,” you scoffed. “You’re a king. Declaring your love to a king and expecting them to love you in return is just ridiculous.” 

You saw that anger flare in Thorin’s eyes again, and his jaw clenched. ���I am a king in name and by my birth right. But I am no different to you in heart. There is only one that I bow to, and that is my wife and Queen. And those positions will only ever be filled by one person…you.” 

***

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[djarins-cyare]

Din Djarin: The Contractor

I had no access to my WIPs for a few days this week, so my brain started inventing scenarios… ‘imagines’, I guess? This (totally unedited) one came about when I happened to scroll past the first two pics of Din on Pinterest, and the memory of Joel telling Ellie he used to be a contractor sprang to mind…

Well, your [SWU-techno-thingy] is broken. Great. Trying to keep your irritation in check, you call the repair company, who politely assure you they’ll send over their best guy immediately. It’s late in the day, and dusk is approaching fast, so you guess you should be happy they’re willing to send anyone out at all.

After a lengthy wait, during which your irritation seems to grow exponentially, your repairman pootles up to your home on his banged-up speeder, parking outside. Unhurriedly, he grabs his tools and trudges into your home, nodding a greeting but remaining suspiciously quiet and not even giving his name.

Perhaps doing a late job has made him grouchy. Yeah, well, not having a working [SWU-techno-thingy] has made you grouchy, too. Get in line, pal.

You show him the problem, and he spends a while trying to get a better look at it, peering into the inner workings and sighing. He mumbles “hmm” an awful lot, sometimes tutting and shaking his helmet at what he sees, and he takes plenty of readings with various tools.

Eventually, he concludes his analysis and tells you it’ll cost double what you were quoted when you called earlier because your [SWU-techno-thingy] is entirely dead. Apparently, he needs to replace your [thingamajig] in order to realign your [whatchamacallit] and get it running again, which requires brand-new parts and a lot of labour.

When you baulk at this, he simply shrugs and says he doesn’t set the rates; they’re determined by the Guild. Then he stands there, looking annoyingly smug, waiting for you to authorise him to start work.

You reluctantly agree and leave him to it, stomping off in the hope that you can find something to occupy yourself while he works.

Frustratingly, you can’t, and when you return shortly thereafter to check how it’s going, you find he’s taking a break. What the hell? A break already???

As much as you try to keep your anger in check, you virtually yell that he’s supposed to be on the clock and he’d better not be charging you for the time he’s spending sitting around doing nothing!

He grumbles something about missing dinner (with a womp rat, of all things!) for this, puts down the bowl he was drinking from, and huffily grabs his tools to get to work.

Finally, he starts the job you hired him for, and you stick around to monitor him, slightly worried he might try and push his luck again. But it seems like he’s pulling his weight at last — tools a-turnin’, sparks a-flyin’. He seems to know what he’s doing.

After a while, you start to realise that what he’s doing is actually pretty impressive. You can’t deny he looks skilled and competent — almost badass — as he expertly fixes your [SWU-techno-thingy].

Satisfied he’s now earning his fee, you leave him to it for a while, once again trying to find something else to occupy you.

But it’s not long before you find yourself back again, keen to know how he’s doing. For a moment, you think he might’ve fallen asleep because he’s lying down, and the bitter taste of annoyance returns, but… oh nope, he’s just getting a better angle for the repairs.

He keeps working diligently, so you let him continue without disturbing him.

After what feels like a lifetime, he finally tells you he’s all finished.

As you inspect his work, you notice him standing off to the side like a kid waiting for the teacher to grade his class project. It’s sort of sweet, in a way.

It seems like he did a decent job, and you tell him so, handing him payment with a smile, which he accepts with a nod. He then collects his stuff (an impressive display of strength), bids you goodbye and turns to leave.

You escort him to the door, thanking him again and watching your taciturn repairman walk away from your home.

Now that you have a working [SWU-techno-thingy] once again and have recovered from being quoted an extortionate price for its repair, you revise your opinion of your contractor. He’s skilled, and aside from being a little huffy to start with (though you concede he was probably just hungry), he seems like a nice guy.

Plus, as he walks away from you, you can’t help but admire his perfect ass, remembering how good it looked earlier when he bent over to grab his toolkit.

Almost as if he can feel your gaze, when he gets to the edge of your property, he turns back to look at you, lingering for a moment, meeting your stare in that intense way of his.

Your pulse picks up, and for a second, you think he might come back — that he might push you inside and have his wicked way with you, give you a decent seeing to with those skilled hands of his.

The moment you share is electric, and you imagine a plethora of debauched scenarios as you stare into his T-visor with hope…

…but it passes as he tears his gaze away, hurriedly loads up his rusted speeder bike, and climbs on. He gives you a final nod as he pulls away, departing from your life as swiftly as he arrived.

Oh well, it was surely a ridiculous thought anyway.

You return inside and try to get on with your evening, but your thoughts keep drifting back to your contractor. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? He barely even spoke to you.

Eventually, you cave and admit it. You’re attracted to him. He has a magnetism you don’t understand, yet you can’t deny its pull on you. But there’s nothing you can do about that… is there? And he might not feel the same anyway.

You keep thinking about the look he gave you when he left. There was something there, you’re sure of it.

So… okay. Are you really going to break something else to get him to come back?

Yes. Yes, you are…