#Good Lord they are flirting make them stop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

julymusings · 2 months ago

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love in withdrawal

true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by the tree.

or; in the aftermath of that night, you're both wracked with regret, wishing it went differently. [3.3k]

jason todd x fem!reader; warnings from pt1 also apply; typical jason-angst (so ptsd, self-image/hatred, family issues, etc) + virgin!jason YOU ALR KNOW THE VIBESSSS😝😝😝👹👹 previous: you're good to me, baby

Jason Todd has tried very hard to be normal. At least, as normal as he can get. After returning to his home city and settling into his role as the Red Hood, crime lord and resident anti-hero of Gotham, he really did try. He went out with his 'coworkers' to have a good time. He spoke to his neighbors, hoping some friendship would stick. He went to a seedy bar with Roy and stuttered through some flirting with the girl who eye-fucked him from across the bar for fifteen minutes. With Roy’s encouragement (read: peer pressure), he followed her out to the alley behind the bar. He kissed her a little, tried to do what he was supposed to; put his hands on her waist, maintaining a respectable distance from too high or too low. But it felt…off, somehow. His heightened senses made the way she trailed one finger up and down the muscles of his arm feel prickly, the scars under his sleeve sensitive and itching at her touch. Her lips were too sticky with gloss, and its saccharine watermelon flavor lingered on his teeth for days. No matter how hard he scrubbed at them.

Roy hadn’t let him live that down for months. His recounting of Jason leaving her in the bar when she invited him home, looking ‘scared shitless and fumbling hard’ was an exaggeration, but maybe not that far off. Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected; he could barely look his own family in the eye. How did he think he’d be able to keep it together around a pretty girl? He was quick to give up any hopes of being ‘normal’ after that.

He lived like that for a while; putting all his energy into keeping the city safe, working himself to the bone as the Red Hood so he wouldn’t have time to reflect on who he was as Jason. He fixed things with his family just enough to have a place to go every other weekend to “upgrade his gear.” When he stuck around long enough that it was ‘only convenient’ to stay for dinner, no one commented on it. He’d accepted that this was his life now.

He never meant for things to go this far with you. Honestly. He was just doing his job when he gave you a ride home after you sprained your ankle trying to fight off that mugger. When he had to hold your weight so you could walk up the stairs to your apartment, he was still just doing his job. And when you, still in shock and heart pumping with adrenaline, put your frantic energy into nervous ramblings and fretting over his bruises— making sure you were okay before he left was part of his job. But one visit to your apartment turned into two, and two turned into three, each under the guise of ‘checking on your ankle’ or ‘being on his route’. Somewhere along the line your arrangement came to be: he stopped by with wounds needing to be treated, you treated them, and then he’d leave. And if you wanted to make some small conversation, getting to know each other a little more with every visit, that was harmless. Seeking you out for the smallest injuries that he was fully capable of dealing with himself was harmless. Holding you in his arms while you clutched onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt, neglecting his knife wound for far too long in favor of wiping away your tears—

He never meant for things to go this far.

Two days after that night, Jason is still reeling. In hindsight, letting the slice on his arm sit in the open, stale air for as long as it did was not the best idea. Sewing it closed one-handed so as to relieve the burden from your shoulders, taking no care to sterilize the instruments that fell to the floor in his hurry to follow the alarm bells in his head that screamed go! Get out and go! was a horrible idea. Sure, having you kneeled in his lap, pressed against him for the better part of the thirty minutes he spent at your place wasn’t exactly a regret. But was it worth the round of antibiotics and week-long benching ordered by Bruce after he stumbled into the Batcave an hour ago, hastily stitched up by his own hand and running a fever? He can’t decide. Was it worth the consequence of his siblings taking turns covering the patrol route of his city sector during his absence? Definitely not.

Was it worth the sight of you looking up at him, watery-eyed with flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes accentuated by the shine of your tears? The feeling of your hand sliding over his chest?

Maybe.

Maybe he could use the time off, as pointed out by a sneering Timothy, considering he was so stupid as to let his wound fester to the point of infection. He’d be too distracted to give the city his full attention, anyway. He needs time to think. To lie down in his old bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about if he’ll ever see you again.

Tim’s comment earns him a smack to the back of the head from Dick, who promptly kicks Tim out of the room.

“How are you feeling?” Dick stands at Jason’s bedside, arms crossed in concern.

“Same as when you asked me five minutes ago.” Jason wheezes. His pit-enhanced immunity makes the infection symptoms much easier than they could have been, but Bruce still insisted on him staying the whole week for observation. With how much he’s grown since he last used it, his childhood room feels much smaller than he remembers.

“Yeah, but…” Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. His gaze flits to his arm, wrapped in fresh bandages with an ice pack pressed over the stitches. “How…are you?”

“The same as…before,” Jason says, mimicking his brother’s cadence.

Dick sighs, thinking over his next move. He walks to the door, closes it, and pulls Jason’s desk chair to the bedside and sits down.

Jason groans. “Do you really have to—”

“Just humor me,” Dick interrupts. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He takes Jason’s silence as resignation. “Did something happen?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I got stabbed, Dick.”

“Is that all?” There’s a lilt in Dick’s voice.

“What are you implying?” Jason shoots back, though his hoarse throat negates his attempt to sound intimidating.

“Nothing! I’m not implying anything!” Dick leans back in his chair, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying. You seem…bothered. By something.”

“Yeah, the stab wound.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Dick clears his throat. “If there’s nothing.” He stands, returning the chair to its place. As he’s leaving, though, his hand settled on the doorknob, he hears a rustle of fabric and turns back to Jason. He’s shifting around in his old bed, awkwardly pulling at the comforter and he moves to sit on the edge, staring hard at the red pattern of the blanket while opening and closing his mouth, battling with himself on whether or not he should speak. Dick waits, giving him the time to work it out.

“I think I…” Jason says finally, not looking up from his lap. “I messed up.” He looks very uncomfortable. If opening up wasn’t such a rare occurrence for him, Dick might have found humor in his brother’s embarrassment.

Dick lets go of the doorknob, but doesn’t dare move closer. He knows that Jason’s fight or flight instincts will take hold the second he feels too caged in. “Messed up how?” He asks, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

“With…someone.” Jason forces out the words, cheeks burning as bright as his bedspread. He still refuses to look at Dick, but at the surprised, choked-back sound he makes at the admission, Jason’s face snaps up to his. Dick is disguising his shock as a cough into his fist, but his wide eyes are unmistakable, even behind the curtain of thick hair falling over his eyes.

“That’s…uh…” Dick clears his throat again. Then again. “That’s great, Jason,” he says, at last regaining his composure.

“Is it?” Jason says, squinting at his brother.

“No, I mean—not that you—” Dick sighs, running a hand down his face and deciding to abandon that train of thought altogether. “What happened?”

“I sort of…left. Abruptly.” Jason rubs at the growing stubble on his jaw. “Like— like after…” He trails off, hoping Dick will get the idea.

Dick has to quiet the extremely loud sirens going off in his head when he (albeit incorrectly) has the realization that his baby brother, the one he still sees as four feet tall, swinging his little legs off the kitchen island and covered in cookie crumbs is, in fact, having sex.

“Is it serious?” He asks through a stiff smile.

Jason, ever oblivious to the silent breakdown his brother is having at the door, is not sure if he’d describe what you two have as serious. He knows you fairly well, knows what you do from the nights you talk about what’s going on at work; what you like from the posters and trinkets you have hung up around your place. And yeah, you talk sometimes. He may not speak that much around you, and it’s usually just frustrated complaints about the other bats, but it’s certainly more than he speaks to most people outside his family. And he sees you more often than he does most people outside his family. And he feels more comfortable with you than—

“Jason,” Dick calls, pulling him from his thoughts. “Is it serious?” He asks again, though there’s a quirk in his brow that suggests he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” is what Jason settles on.

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, a few days ago?” Jason says, even though he knows that’s a lie. It was 45 hours and 26 minutes ago, to be precise, but he doesn’t say that. He’s not sure how it would be received.

“You can’t go back? Just try to apologize?”

He wants to see you again, but he can’t. Doing so in the first place only put you in danger, and he was an idiot for ignoring that. If the wrong person had seen the Red Hood making consistent visits to the same window of the same building? His stomach turns at the thought.

Jason can’t imagine you’d be welcoming, either, after the way he left two nights ago. He watched you splash your face with cool water, leaving him with a shaky, watery smile, then listened to you putter around the kitchen with the promise of tea for the both of you. He felt like an asshole, picturing you coming back to the bathroom with his mug in hand, only to be met with an empty room and scattered first aid supplies on the floor. He didn’t even leave through the living room, like he entered, because you were in the kitchen. He climbed out of your bedroom window, like a coward. In his haste, he left those bloodstains he promised he would clean.

“I’m not sure she wants to see me.” Jason says quietly.

Dick answers thoughtfully; “Did she tell you that, or are you just making assumptions?”

Jason sighs. “Shit.”

“But, actually,” Dick winces. “You do have to stay here for the whole week, so…”

Jason lets out a tired groan and drops his face into his palms.

“Maybe call her?” Dick offers. He gathers the conversation is over from the way Jason glares at him, and turns to leave. But when he’s halfway out the door, he turns back. “Hey, Jaybird?”

Jason lifts his chin.

“You’re, uh…using protection, right?”

Jason blinks. It’s now that he realizes what Dick thought he was talking about and it burns him, leaving his skin red-hot.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—” He cuts himself off with a yelp, leaping out of the doorway to dodge the projectile pillow thrown at his head.

Jason hears a ‘good talk’ from the end of the hall, but is too busy with brand new concerns about his situation with you. If he could call you, he would, but he doesn’t have your number. He could easily find it, but not while he’s confined to this bedroom; he’d need access to his gear at home. And with the entire manor breathing down his neck for the next week, there was no way he’d be able to sneak out. So he’d have to wait an entire week before coming to see you again.

Maybe showing up at your place two days after the ordeal would have you understandably hurt, but nine days? You were going to be pissed. You are pissed.

Not at the Red Hood. You’re mad at yourself for being so stupid as to break down in front of him. It’s no fucking wonder he ran out the first chance he got. You sobbed into his shirt like an idiot for who knows how long. You practically felt him up. You’re an idiot for not thinking that would make him uncomfortable. And now, he’s never coming back, and you can’t even blame him!

There’s a book on your coffee table with a bookmark near the end that’s been staring at you since that night. That night when you, more consumed with confusion than anything else, dumped two mugs of fresh tea in the sink and flopped down on the couch and…waited. For what, you had no idea. The cover art took up your entire field of vision while you lied to yourself, saying you weren’t stealing glances at the window, hoping for a certain body to appear in the frame.

In the days following, the book sat there, practically taunting you until you turned it face-down so the sight of the star-constellated cover would stop making your stomach twist over in nausea. Nausea at the memory of how eager you were to pick it up at the library mere days after he had mentioned it, how you buzzed with excitement, and maybe something deeper, when you came home at night ready to snuggle into the couch with a blanket and your favorite mug to read the next chapter.

I hate you so much, you had murmured into a nasty bruise on the back of his left shoulder one night, though you couldn’t stop the grin that broke through the words.

What did I do? He replied, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

You never told me that would happen halfway through, you said, forcing a frown when you looked up at him.

He chuckled. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to spoil it for you.

Through the amusement there was a lull in your usual rhythm. He did not need to ask which part of the book you were complaining about. He knows, knows you well enough to understand that you would be angry, reading about a budding, hopeful love that’s marred by the revelation that the boy and the girl will not make it. That their love was doomed from the start because, inevitably, he will have to leave her, and he has known the entire time that he would have to leave. That he loved her with one foot out the door.

You turned him around, ready to focus on the small abrasion at his temple when he asks, forgive me?

Fine, I guess so, you said, standing on your toes to get closer to his head.

That night replayed in your mind too often. The way he moved a ghost of an inch closer to lean into your fingers. The smell that was purely him in the grime and sweat in his hair when you pushed it back from his forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the extra second you lingered, fingers threaded into those streaks of white. You always wondered if they would feel different than the rest of his hair. They didn’t. They were just as soft. You wondered if anyone else knew that. You hoped not; no one else needed to know him the way you did.

(No one needed to know that you revisited that night with such frequency, either, in the middle of the night hidden under layers of blankets and darkness with nothing but your hands and imagination. You’d take that to the grave.)

Perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of you that wished he would turn up at your window again, this time armed with reasonings and apologies.

There was an emergency.

My team needed me.

I didn’t want to leave.

But after five days of radio silence, there’s not much you can do except take the hint.

You go about your normal routine, trying your hardest to push him out of your mind. Things at work are steady, your position intact and safe from usurping coworkers. You resign yourself to a fate of friends with questionable compassion, grateful to have any at all, and call up your best friend to smooth things over. She accepts, moving on to squeal about her boyfriend’s friend that she’s been dying to set you up with. You reluctantly agree to a double date somewhere down the line, but start preparing excuses and illnesses in the back of your mind.

Ten days after that night, that book is one week past its due date when you muster up the will to take it back to the Gotham Public Library.

(So maybe you still held out a small flicker of hope. What matters now is that you’re here, ready to return it and blow out that flame.)

There’s one person ahead of you when you fall into line at the front desk. He makes easy conversation with the librarian while she scans his library card; judging by the waves he garners from other passing staff, he must be popular around here.

“Thanks again, you’re the best,” he says, taking the book she hands him.

“Oh, of course,” the librarian gushes, a faint rouge coloring her face. “You let me know how you like that one.”

“I will.”

He turns around, halting suddenly to stop himself from walking into you. You mutter out an apology, ready to move past him, but he stares at you, saying nothing. His large hand tightens its grip on an old and worn book. The ends of jet black strands peek out from under a red beanie and he searches you with wide, teal eyes, mouth agape like he wants to speak. He’s looking at you like he’s been looking for you for ages, and he can’t believe you’re here.

“Hi,” he says, sounding a little breathless.

“Hi.” You clutch your book tighter against your chest, not knowing what to make of this man. It draws his eyes lower and he sees the title.

“Hi,” he says again. Then; “I— I was wondering. About that book.” He nods toward it. “I’m, uh, thinking about reading it. What did you think?”

“Oh,” you exhale. “I actually never finished it. Sorry.”

“Oh,” he echoes. His face falls, but only for a moment, before returning to a neutral expression. “Okay, sorry.”

He brushes past, leaving you addled in his wake, but also next in line. The librarian flashes you a glare when the book is scanned in as one week late. Sheepishly, you pay the fine and watch as it gets rolled away on a re-shelf cart, the last of your connections to the Red Hood rolling along with it.

It would be another two months before you saw him again.

remember after the last part when i said "ignore how his open would is just sitting there marinating"? well i figured out how to amend that👍 idk why i feel like this is so short i tried to write more but yk how it is the story goes the way it wants to i am but the messenger. i've been experiencing mad writer's block this past couple of weeks please pray for me🙏🙏🙏

listen to the inspo song!!!

#batman #red hood #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #red hood x reader #batfam #robin jason todd

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dimesdimesdimess · 7 months ago

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CONFESSION

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, swearing, innocent reader, lustful priest.

Readers Notes: Hello! This is my first time writing for this fandom. But it’s also been awhile since I’ve written anything. So the smut may not be great since I’m a little rusty. But if you enjoy it I may write another part. We’ll see. Enjoy! Possible spelling errors, not proof read.

part two

Every Thursday you made your way to the church for confession, confessing to the sins you committed for that week. Most of the time they are little things like swearing, or being a bit selfish and using the lord’s name in vain. Things that make Father Charlie laugh to himself because these weren’t really sinful to him and you were one of the few people that actually came every week. It always made him curious about you and liked when you came even if he didn’t feel it necessary. So every Thursday he listened, absolved you of your sins and made you say your hail marys. You always felt so much better after seeing Father Charlie. He wasn’t like some of the other priests, he was younger than them all, and had different ways about himself. You thought he was a bit strange at first and much too good looking to be a priest. You had to admit to yourself that sometimes you were coming to church just to see him. Much like the other women.. You heard whispers of the other women and the young girls talking about how handsome he was and every now and then one of them would try to flirt with him. He’d just smile at them as if he had no clue.

You weren’t any different from these women. You also felt the urge to flirt with him, but he was a priest and that would be sinful. But that didn’t stop the thoughts that ran through your mind about him even outside of church. Sinful thoughts of him crossed your mind and you did your best to stop them even praying the thoughts away, but nothing worked. You couldn’t take the fact that God might send you to hell for having such thoughts.

Thursday was rolling back around and one thing you thought could help and make you feel less of a sinful person was confession. Maybe if you confessed about the sin you’ve been committing that you’d be absolved and it would stop. But you couldn’t tell him the thoughts were about him, so you’d have to make up a story. As soon as you could you rushed over to the church and headed inside, there he was waiting by the confessional booth, he was expecting you. You lightly dip your fingers into the holy water and sign the cross before you quickly walk over to him.

Father Charlie smiled. “Ah, there you are, Y/N. Right on time.

You were out of breath because you literally ran over. You smiled nervously at him as you caught your breath, those sinful thoughts creeping into your mind as you stared up at him. “Hello father.” you murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Everything alright?”

You nodded. “Mhm, just ready to give my weekly confession.” you mumbled.

He chuckles softly. “Alright. Let’s get started.” he opens the door on his side of the booth and he steps inside. You nervously open the door to your side and step inside, sitting down as your hands sit in your lap and you nervously rubbing them together. There's a small light in the confession booth, it was just bright enough that it wasn’t completely pitch black.

There was silence for a moment and then you started to speak softly.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession.” you say softly.

There’s another silence. You nervously rubbed your hands together, unsure of how to confess your sin.

“Y/N?” Father Charlie says softly.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, father.” you mumble.

You sigh softly as you go down the list of your confesses, which was the usual, swearing and using the lord's name in vain. Which Father Charlie expected and made him a smile a bit to himself.

“Anything else, Y/N?” he asks.

You let out another sigh.

“Y-Yes.. I’ve.. I’ve been having some thoughts..” you murmur.

Father Charlie’s interest now peeked. “What thoughts, my child?” he responds.

“Um.. sinful.. Dirty thoughts…” You pause. “About a man..” you whisper.

There’s practically a smirk on Father Charlie’s face. This was new for you and unexpected. Now he was more interested in this than ever.

“What are these thoughts? Is this a man you know? Someone you’re seeing?” he questions.

You shake your head. “No.. I’m not seeing him.. I just.. He’s just someone I know. Everyday I have the most impure thoughts about him.. And his body and things I’d like him to do to me. It’s terrible, father. Just terrible. I can’t seem to get these thoughts out of my mind. I tried to pray to make it stop. But they just won’t.. I don’t know what else to do, father.”

Father Charlie sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he listens to you and then his tongue runs over them as he clears his throat. Such an innocent woman like you having impure thoughts like this made him feel a way. He wanted to help. He wanted to help ease these feelings and thoughts you’ve been having in one way he knew how.

“Well.. It’s perfectly normal to have such thoughts if you feel something for this man. Sinful, maybe. But normal. You can’t avoid sexual feelings. There is something I know that may help with this, Y/N.” he says.

You glance over through the separator. “There is? What is it we can do? Prayer? Penance? I’ll do anything to make this stop.” you pleaded.

He chuckles lowly. “No.. None of that. This is something that I’ve been wanting to speak about. Something to bring the church into the future. Embracing sexual desires instead of condemning them or thinking of them as sinful.” he says.

You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “What do you mean? Isn’t it a sin to have these thoughts if you’re not married?” you respond.

“No. It’s human nature, now would you like me to help you?” he says quite coldly.

You would do anything to make this feeling go away and stop lusting after your priest. “Yes father, please help.” you respond.

Just the very sound of that does something to him and he could feel his pants becoming tight at the very thought of what he was going to make you do.

“Now I must say, what we do in here is confidential as you know. So, I can’t tell anyone and I’ll need you to promise you won’t speak of this with anyone.” he says, peering over at you through the separator.

He had a seriousness in his voice and you glance over at him. Your eyes meeting in the dimness of the booth, still curious about how he was going to help you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, father. Honest.” you say, nodding.

“Good.. Then we can begin, Y/N. You’ll need to obey my every word. This is to help you, that’s all.” he proceeds to say.

“I understand, father.” you chime in.

“Good. Now.. Why don’t you start off by spreading your legs..” he hums.

You look over at him. “Father?” you question.

“I told you, this is to help you. Now spread your legs..” he says demandingly.

You swallow hard and do as you're told. He is the priest after all.. A holy vessel. What he’s asking must be what God wants. You slowly spread your legs open. The fabric of your dress lies against your thighs as it rides up just slightly as your legs are spread. Father Charlie peeks over and smirks to himself. “Wider.” he demands.

You spread your legs open even further and now your dress rides up even further along your thighs. Father Charlie pleased with your obedience. “Good girl..” he hums. Now slowly lift the skirt of your dress up just above your thighs.” he whispers.

Your eyes widened with innocence. You couldn’t believe this was happening and that this is what God wanted. “Now Y/N.” he hisses.

You quickly lifted the skirt of your dress up just as he wanted and now your thighs and panties were completely exposed. He leans over and looks between the separator, the very sight of your white cotton panties causing the tightness in his pants to become worse than before that his bulge begging to be set free from their confinement. He tries to adjust himself. “Good..” he whispers.

“Now tell me about these sinful dirty thoughts of yours, Y/N. While you do it.. I want you to touch yourself the way you wanted to be touched in these thoughts of yours.” he whispers, running a hand along his clothed hard on.

You hesitate. “But father.. I..” he cuts you off before you could get another word out.

“In order for this to work you need to be obedient. You need to act on these sinful thoughts and do as I say. Now do as I ordered or you will never be rid of this.” he says sharply.

“Yes father.” you respond in a soft voice. You let out a soft exhale as your hands run over your thighs. “T-This man.. All I want is for him to run his hands along my body.. Touching me.. Teasing me.. Just the very thought of it has an ungodly feeling coming from between my legs.” you whisper.

Father Charlie tries to hold back the low groan that escapes him as he hears your words and his hand is now rubbing against his hard on. “Tell me more.. D-Does this ungodly feeling make you.. You feel wet?” he mutters.

Your eyes widen once again and you nod. “Yes.. Yes.. It’s terrible.. My.. My panties get wet and sometimes sticky against me.. I throb with.. with so much desire for y-.. For this man.. I can’t stand it.” You began to let out soft noises as you picture the father running his hands along your thighs, his head in between them, kissing up to your soaked pussy. Your mind is running wild with the thought.

Father Charlie’s eyes roll back in desire as you describe it and now he can’t bear it anymore and he slowly undoes his pants and slides his hand in them to pull his cock out. It’s throbbing and hard, precum already dripping from the tip, he spits into his hand and wraps it around his pulsing cock. “Keep going.. T-tell me more..” he hums as he slowly pumps his cock in his hand.

The pitch of his voice sounded a bit different now, but you didn’t think much of it because you were being consumed with your fantasy of him. You run your hand along your panties and you could already feel them being soaked through and it makes a whimper escape you. The entire time Father Charlie is peeking through the holes of the separator as he pleasures himself. “Take ‘em off.. and keep talking..” he mumbles. You don’t hesitate to do as he says and hook your fingers between the hem of your panties and you slowly slide your panties off, your arousal stained on your panties and you gulp slowly. “Oh.. god..” Father Charlie mutters to himself.

“I.. I picture this man with his head between my legs.. He’s wanting to help with the throbbing.. and he.. he…” you stutter over your words.

“What? What?! What does he do next?” Father Charlie says with an excitement in his voice as his begins to stroke his cock faster, his eyes fixated on your pussy under the dim light.

“He.. He runs his tongue.. along my pussy.. He’s licking up the mess I made in my panties.. Slurping up every last drop.. “ You run two fingers along your swollen throbbing clit and now you let out a loud moan, praying no one else was in the church. Father Charlie’s head leans against the separator as he breathes heavy, watching as you play with yourself and he spits some more on his cock, pumping his hand harder and faster. You continue with your thoughts. “Then he wraps my thighs around his shoulders and he’s buried between my thighs.. His tongue flicking against my clit and then shoving it inside of my pussy.. He’s moaning because I’m so tight around his tongue..” You let out another moan and now your fingers were so wet from your pussy that you slowly slip them inside your tight cunt, you could feel yourself tighten around your fingers and now your back was pressed against the wall of the booth and you’ve brought your legs up against the pew as your legs were spread wide open, completely on display for the father as you moan.

“F.. Fuck…” Father Charlie groans, his cock dripping in precum as he works his hand along the shaft, licking his lips as he watches you fuck yourself. “That’s it.. Good girl... Let those sinful thoughts take over.. G-Give into your desire..” he mutters between his groans.

You nodded obediently at his words, completely taken with your own thoughts, completely unaware that he’s getting off to you. Your eyes are shut tight as you shove your fingers deeper into your soaking pussy, the wet sounds echoing within the booth, your breathing heavy and out of control and without even thinking between your moans you say his name. “Oh, father… Yes… Charlie..” you cry out.

Father Charlie catches this and smirks to himself as his cock pumps in his hand, having revealed that he was the man in your sinful thoughts, this only further provokes his desire and need. Giving him many ideas of how he could use you. He realizes that you haven’t realized what you said. You couldn’t care in this moment as the desire within you was building and soon coming to the surface, a feeling you had never felt before. You felt like you were going to explode. “Father.. I.. A strange feeling is coming over.. over.. me.” You say with a shaky breath.

“Let it… Let it take over, my child.. Let it out..” he moaned, he was not going to last a minute longer but he wanted to cum when you did.. He wanted to watch you orgasm. Your head is tilted against the wall and your legs trembling and soon your whole body and without realizing it your moans soon turn into loud cries of pleasure as you soon reach your orgasm, cum leaking out of your pussy and onto your fingers and the pew as your body convulses. “Fuck.. yes.. “ Father Charlie mumbles as he reaches his orgasm and he grunts and groans lowly as spurts of his warm cum shoot out of his cock onto the wall of the booth and some of it gets on his suit. “Christ..” he grumbles.

You whimper softly as you slowly slip your fingers out of your dripping pussy and you’re trying to understand what just happened and what you just did in the church of all places. You look over at Father Charlie though the separator, his head rested against it and he looks sweaty and is breathing hard. His eyes look up at you and now you’re staring at each other for a moment and you could sense what he was doing, but didn’t want to admit that you knew. He clears his throat as he lifts his head up and quickly puts his cock away and buttons his pants back up. You feel so confused now and embarrassed.

“H..How.. How do you feel now? Thoughts gone?” Father Charlie mutters, fixing his hair.

You swallow nervously as you sit up and push the skirt of your dress back down quickly. “I.. I guess.. My head doesn’t feel as bad. I can think straight again..” you answer.

He smiles. “Good.. Told you.. Nothing wrong with giving into your desires, Y/N.”

You nod. “And you’re sure this is right? I don’t want to go to hell for doing this in a holy place..” you say nervously.

Father Charlie laughs. “You’re not going to hell. God wanted you to do this and wanted me to guide you. I think you may need a lot of my help and this should be something I work with you on a weekly basis. We can do it more privately in my office.”

“But father.. I don’t think..” he interrupts you, shaking his head.

“You need this.. Your thoughts are more sinful than I thought.” he says.

You stay silent. This was all confusing to you, but you couldn’t lie, you did feel a whole lot better. Father Charlie begins to pray to absolve you of your sins. You bow your head and clasps your hands together, praying along with him before signing the cross. “Now go pray five hail marys and our father and I’ll see you next week in my office, Y/N.” he says before he gets up and heads out of the booth. You sit in your side of the booth, pondering what has just happened and then you realize in the heat of the moment what you had moaned out. His name. Was that the real reason why he wanted to continue this? Now the embarrassment really sunk in because now he would think you were just like the rest of the women in the church.. Lusting after him, which you were, but the last thing you wanted was for him to know that. But maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.. To be lusted after.

Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @suraemoon @aliengoth3 @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo

if you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!

#nicholas alexander chavez #grotesquerie #father charlie mayhew #father Charlie #hot priest #fanfic #smut #father charlie x reader #father Charlie mayhew fanfic

1K notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 10 months ago

Note

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

1K notes · View notes

finsplurtz · 1 year ago

Text

virginbitch — gojo.satoru

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Gojo Satoru

— contents : Virgin bitch Gojo , mentions of boy pussy , virginity loss , jerking off , drunk Gojo for a min , mirror sex , gagging choking , overstim , degrading nd praising

warnings : like choking but nun too srs idk

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Gojo satoru is a MAJOR virgin. I KNOW .. CRAZY.

His fossil ass hadn’t lost his virginity yet, he’s been waiting for “the right person” but nobody seems to catch his eye…

Till yn was introduced.

It was kinda funny when they met uhm Gojo was having silly conversation with Yuji about girlfriends n shi and like…

“So you don’t have a girlfriend? Are you a virgin?”

“Nonono! I’m not a virgin Yuji cmon I’m literally a lady magnet. I used to fuck girls left and right in highschool! I just don’t have a girlfriend right now because nobody really seems to grab my att…-“ He fell quiet when the finest guy to ever fucking exist walked in.

Yujis confused and looks at yn and he’s like “OH YN, you’re here!” He’s so happy to see them. Yn smiled and pulls Yuji into a hug spinning him around.

“Lord, it’s been so long! You still look adorable” He ruffled Yuji’s hair who giggled.

“Oh- by the way, this is my teacher, yn meet Gojo, Gojo meet yn. Old friend” Yuji stepped aside and yn held his hand out and shook Gojo’s.

“Nice to meet you, Gojo” the way his name rolled off his tongue made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“Nice to meet you too..yn..” Gojo smiled sickly.

Yuji grabbed yn’s wrists and pulled him around excited to show him everything he’d learnt. Gojo was bewildered. I mean yn was fucking- jaw dropping handsome!

Gojo was too busy to worry about a girlfriend. He never really thought he’d be jerking off to some fucking guy he met that same day…

Gojo was a very flirty guy, he’s always flirting with women who’d obviously get down on their knees for him if he asked and yet still he finds nothing interesting about them.

He can lie about not being a virgin and have people believe him, but as soon as this hunk, yn, asks him about it, he’s a stuttering mess.

“Hm. So you’re realll experienced mister Satoru~?” Yn tilted his head looking at Gojo’s blindfold who obviously flushed red.

“Y..yes..yes I am!” He cursed himself out in his head for sounding too excited.

“Yeah? what about with a guy..” yn smirked watching Gojo’s lip tremble slightly.

“Uh-h..huh…” Gojo’s mouth was slightly open as he nodded making the other chuckle.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind, Satoru.” Yn gently closed Gojo’s mouth before walking off.

Gojo was a sensitive guy when it came to his dick, he’s never been inside anything at all. He was now rutting into his pillow pretending it was yn.

“Ugh..I’m y-your good b..haa…boy..y-yn….” His body shook like crazy when he came on his pillow like never before. He was panting like a dog feeling lazy about cleaning up.

He sat up and looked at the mess he made before sighing and throwing the whole pillow away.

Now he can’t even look at yn’s face at all. Cause he gets reminded of what he did that night, it’s not like he’s guilty or anything he genuinely just might go red..

Well he got closer to yn, always being around each other, doing the same things everyday. It was a routine they both loved.

Gojo grew to genuinely feel attracted to yn, he loved his personality and looks. He’s not scared of homophobia or anything I mean he’s the strongest guy alive, what’s there to be afraid of?

They went out drinking one night and since Gojo is obviously, a light weight, he got drunk pretty fucking fast. He tried to keep up with yn but ended up getting himself fucked up instead.

Yn was dragging Gojo back to his house and lied him on his bed getting him some water.

“Satoru, drink” He sat the white haired male up and handed him the drink.

“N…no it’s too hic h..hot..” He pushed the drink away and tried to take his shirt off but yn stopped him.

“‘Toru- if you’re hot maybe you should take this fucking..blindfold off” yn slid the cloth off Satoru’s head and his eyes widened at this guys eyes…

“Your eyes…” He whispered pushing some hair out of Gojo’s face who blushed looking into yn’s hues.

“They’re gorgeous..” He smiled making Gojo’s insides spin.

“Take my..c-clothes o hic off…” He whined successfully pulling his shirt off leaving him only in his pants. Yn scoffed and grabbed Gojo’s jaw forcing him to look at him.

“Drink…the water.” Yn held the bottle of water up to Gojo’s lips who pulled away and tapped yn’s lips.

“No, you drink..”

‘Tsk’ yn filled his mouth with water and kissed Gojo with tongue allowing the water to go into the others mouth.

Gojo wrapped his arms around yn’s neck and didn’t let go of the kiss. Exploring the guys mouth.

Gojo moaned into the kiss and bit yn’s lip who quickly pulled away.

“Satoru you’re- drunk. No more kissing..just drink the water.”

Gojo again protests but yn forces him to open his mouth and shoves water down his throat getting it everywhere on his body and face.

“Ugh..I’m all wet y-yn…’nd it’s y-your f..fault hic” yn looked away blushing. He flinched when Gojo lied him flat on the bed and straddled him.

There was a big mirror facing the bed and Gojo could see himself. He shuffled before sighing and just knocking out on top of yn.

Next morning he freaks out, stuck in yn’s embrace.

“you good?” yn checked.

“Feel….like shit.” Gojo grumbled trying to hide how red his face was.

“Since you’re sober…wanna fuck?”

Gojo’s beautiful eyes widened.

—

“AGH- UGH MMM!~” Gojo screamed arching his back while watching himself in the mirror get fucked like a slut.

Yn’s hips pounded into Gojo’s ass, the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with the sweet smell of sex.

“Gosh…look at you..taking my cock so well~ your virgin boy pussy isn’t complaining about it at all..~” yn smirked devilishly grabbing Gojo’s hair and forcing him to look at himself in the mirror.

“‘s t-too much!~ co-ck sho’ b..big..” he moaned as yn let go of his hair.

“I should put your fuckin’ mouth to work..” yn shoved his fingers into Gojo’s mouth, having him gag and choke on his fingers.

“Goood boy~ you’re my good little whore aren’t you Satoru..?~” Gojo smiled and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“‘m your g-good..boy..! All yourz..~” He screamed and shook violently as he came so hard all over the sheets.

“Hah- first time and you’re already a fucked out mess!” Yn laughed watching Gojo’s face contort at the overstimulation of his prostate still getting abused.

When they finished, Gojo’s body was completely weak. It hurt and he couldn’t even stand up. Good thing he didn’t really need to, yn doing basically everything for him.

He cleaned the male up nicely, tucked him into bed and cuddled.

Gojo is having trouble walking as of lately.

i have a million fics of this man i need him butt booty naked

#ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x male reader #male reader #top male reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #sub gojo satoru #smut #gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #dom top reader

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lidiasloca · 5 months ago

Text

az during mating bond frenzy

azriel x reader

part two

You feel Azriel’s will to maintain peace. But by the look on his face, the need of his fists to find Cassian’s smirking face is stronger.

“Az,” Rhys says, making him meet his eyes and open his fists. You let out a sigh of relief at the High Lord’s conciliatory tone. “I’ve been thinking about it too, you know?”

“What?” Az asks.

But the High Lord’s growing smirk tells you he’s up to no good. “Sharing.”

The first punch is Azriel’s.

You choose your battles wisely - so you turn on your heel and walk to the kitchen, where you find Feyre preparing tea.

“They’re at it already?” she asks as you lean on the countertop.

“They are,” you breathe, defeated, which makes Feyre walk over to you, worried. “I’ve missed you,” you finally confess.

She smiles weakly and moves to hug you. “I’ve missed you too.” You hold on to her warmth, almost falling asleep in the softness of her embrace.

When she feels your head resting on her shoulder, she gently pulls away. “Are you alright? It’s normal that they’re fighting. Azriel needs it.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that.”

She strokes your cheek. “What is it? Is everything okay with Azriel?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “He is perfect,” you say. “He is. And I love him so much. Everything with him is great. It’s just…”

“What?” Feyre urges you.

“The frenzy.”

Feyre’s brows rise, and her knowing smile makes you feel understood. “Is it that bad?”

“I’m sleep-deprived, Feyre.”

She snorts at your words. You’re about to call her out when someone walks in. “Feyre, darling.”

An Illyrian baby.

“Hello to you too, Y/N. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Your Azriel is just fine. Or at least he was when I left them to fight.”

“You’ve deserted,” you grin.

“I have,” he returns your smile. “But for a good reason.” And with that, he turns to kiss Feyre lovingly on her temple.

“Thank you, my love,” Feyre starts, her eyes on Rhys. “But Y/N and I were having a girl talk, so—”

“Are you kicking me out?”

The High Lady nods with a playful smirk.

“I could be of some help, darling.” He turns to you. “I’m actually quite good with the ladies,” he adds, which earns him a slap on the shoulder.

“Leave.”

“Wait,” you intercede. “Maybe he could be of some help.”

Feyre’s eyebrows furrow, so you further explain.

“Rhys, could you maybe assign Azriel a mission? One that takes a few nights. Nothing dangerous, please.”

The High Lord just stares at you, confusion in his eyes. And then… “Oh,” he says, and then proceeds to laugh in your face. “Oh.”

You hope for Feyre to scold him, but she just laughs along with him.

“Okay, stop. It’s not funny.”

“He doesn’t let you sleep, huh?” Rhys says between laughter, which makes his mate laugh even more.

“Ha ha. So funny.”

Finally, their laughter ends. “Can you do that, yes or no?” you ask.

“I guess I can. But I think it’s better if you tell him the truth.” He turns his flirtatious gaze to Feyre and adds, “Communication is key, right?”

Feyre rolls her eyes with a smirk.

You ignore their daily flirting and stop to think about his words. Telling Azriel the truth. But how? You’d always been open to him about everything, and so was he.

But this… What if he didn’t take it well? What if you hurt his feelings?

Every emotion was more intense with the recent snap of the mating bond.

But you are still you. And Azriel is still Azriel.

He would understand… or so you hoped.

“Y/N?”

You snap back to reality. “What?”

“Do you still want me to do it? Send him away?”

You take your time to think. Yes? No?

“Maybe d—”

“Well. Look who’s here,” Feyre says loudly, looking behind you.

You don’t have time to turn before a familiar hand touches your waist. “Hello, love.”

You move to the side to find your mate standing behind you. Shirtless and sweating from the fighting. Your eyes linger on the tattoos tracing his torso, his arms, his neck, and his face.

Azriel’s face. His lips, his eyes, his cheekbones, his jaw.

Your mate.

Gods, the frenzy was making you suffer as well.

There are no more thoughts to ponder. Your mind is made up as you turn to Rhys with determination and say, “Forget about it.”

His knowing smile is his answer.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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ennabear · 5 months ago

Note

Modern!Loser Sevika that starts e-dating reader and is soooooo nervous during their first meet up (and cums almost instantly when you guys are just making out) WHO SAID THAT!!!!

ok writing this in headcanon-ish format because i’m lazy and eepy but i needed to drop everything and write this… i hope you enjoy hehehe i had so much fun writing it loser!sevika’s so adorable… 18+

ok so modern loser!sevika would definitely be one of those older butches who are always active on tumblr. she’d post usually just whatever she thinks is cool, like pictures of the sunrise or good food that she’s eating or whatever she’s smoking. occasionally a selfie if she thinks she looked good.

i feel like her blog wouldn’t be toooo nsfw, but she’d occasionally reblog a horny textpost or something just because why not, and she likes the diversity and acceptance that tumblr offers which is why it’s her only/one of the very few social medias she uses.

i think it would start with her one day posting a picture of her holding one of the blunts she was smoking, and some other horny lesbians would find it and start flirting with her in her anonymous asks. they’d be talking about how much they want her thick fingers stuffed inside of them, and she’d just reply with “awww really 🥰 i didn’t know you guys liked my hands haha lol 😅” or something along those lines.

but in real life? she’s sweating and shaking and quivering when she reads these asks. holy shit, she’s never imagined that people could feel this way about her, and it’s really starting to do something to her.

maybe after this she’d start posting slightly more suggestive posts, nothing too crazy because she doesn’t wanna embarrass herself or get banned so she just sticks to ab/arm pics, hand pics, fit checks in just a sports bra and sweats, etc. and she’d start to get more popular because everyone aimlessly scrolling through the lesbian tag would have to stop and admire her. how couldn’t you?

so imagine you coming into the equation now, probably posting things more similar to her (although definitely more horny, because i know the nature of all of you reading this…) and she’d giggle when she realizes that you two are in the same/similar areas.

awww and omg. she’d develop such a crush on you in an instant. i imagine that she’d send you an ask and be like “omg i’m in the same area!! haha 🤘” and from then on, just stick to liking your posts and viewing from afar.

butttt imagine you posting some sort of lewd, like maybe a strap/bulge pic or a lingerie pic (or whatever you prefer, maybe just a selfie if you’re not comfortable with that, just use your imagination here) and she’d be like 😳 oh 😳 wow 😳 i get it now 😳 i get the horny anon craze 😳 and she’d slide into your inbox like “i think you’re cute 😅” NOT on anon because she doesn’t know how to figure that out, too blind to notice the “ask anonymously: on/off” button…

and eventually you two would start dming/texting, either right after that or after a series of events that followed it, and you’d constantly be chit chatting and in each others asks being silly and horny for each other <3. sev would develop real feelings SO. FAST. because it’s been a while since she’s talked to someone in this situationship position, and she’s so delighted that there’s someone like her who isn’t too far away from her.

so one day you’d “ask her out” officially, agreeing on a place closer to your town to meet up and hang out, but really your plan is to make a real move on her because you’re head over heels for her too. she’d make the hour/few hour long drive over to see you because of course she would.

after arriving and seeing you, she’d almost fucking keel over with how good you look in person. she’s suddenly wondering if you meant everything you reblogged and posted about wearing your strap/not wearing panties on first dates “just in case” and oh lord is it making her WET.

but the two of you would have a lovely day!! you’d take her out to lunch at your favorite spot and have a nice chat in person, hold her hand across the table as you talk, maybe take her on a hike or to a park or somewhere cute and hold her hand the whole time, and then take her shopping or to your place or to a movie and hold her hand the whole time, and then out to dinner at some fancy expensive place and hold her hand the whole time.

and did i mention that you’re holding her hand? because it’s all she can think about, and she’s so worked up from just that alone that she feels those familiar horny butterflies fluttering in her stomach again.

at the end of the night, she’d get sad that she has to leave you already, but feels better that the drive really isn’t that bad and she knows that she can see you more often now. and is she also a little sad because you didn’t kiss her? yeah. but will she make the first move herself? absolutely not.

little does she know that you actually have more planned, and the fact that you randomly remembered this secluded little lookout’s existence is not a coincidence, you actually planned to take her there.

so you’d park and just stare at the view out of your front windshield, being warmed by the heater inside of the car and listening to her favorite music on the radio because you love her so much that you’d willingly give up your aux privileges. and then you’d lean in toward her and give her a little kiss on the cheek and whisper in her ear how much you’re grateful that she’d drive all this way just to see you.

her thighs would rub together and she’d squirm and her eyes would grow wide as she realizes that you’re so close to her and that there’s no one around, and then you’d press your lips to hers and it’s like she’s in a different universe.

she’d instantly press her lips harder against yours as you both fight for dominance (you win) and her pretty brown lipstick would get smeared all over your face and she’d giggle when she pulls back and sees it all over you. and god she looks so fucking cute when she giggles like that, and she tastes so good, and she’s so soft and nervous and malleable under your touch.

you only get a good 10 minutes of making out before you’re tugging her to the backseat and fucking her until the windows fog and it’s so hot in there that you’re gasping for air together. and yes, you do ask her to spend the night at your place after that because were you really gonna watch her leave after that? of course not.

and then imagine making things official with her, all of her anons would be like “😒 wow… so happy for you…” and she’d be like “thank you so much!! aww you guys are so sweet hehe i love my girlfriend!!!” and after that she’d either delete tumblr or only go on there to like and reblog your posts, maybe even tagging you in something sweet or horny if she’s online that much.

#this is dedicated to those older tumblr butches who are always on my tl i love you guys #sevika #sevika arcane x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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matt-murdockk · 19 days ago

Text

I can fix him (no really I can)

They shake their heads saying, "God help her" When I tell them he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really I can And only I can

college!matt murdock x fem!reader | fluff— a whole lotta fluff | sorta friends to lovers? | fic from reader's pov, then a pov switch to third person

Matt Murdock famously doesn't stick around for longer than a month, tops. You were determined to change that.

Pre-law golden boy with an aura that exudes confidence, Matt was the person everyone either wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He knew that, and his faux modesty only made it worse for the masses desperate to get a piece of him. Am I one of—? Please, I'd fuck a tree before I fuck Matt Murdock. Not that I hate him or anything. I'm just not on the bed anyone with abs and a personality bandwagon. Good for him for all that attention he's getting, but my ties with him start and end in class. He's just a classmate.

Okay, maybe not just a classmate.

We share notes. Sometimes. Only when he forgets his, which is rare, because apparently being hot and capable is a combo this man insists on wielding like a goddamn weapon. Once, he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and I made the mistake of saying yes. We ended up talking for an hour. One hour. And somehow I left that conversation knowing his middle name, his favourite diner his dad used to take him to, and exactly what kind of espresso he drinks before a big exam.

It was fine. It’s fine. People have conversations all the time. I’m not spiraling.

We became friends. Real ones. That was the problem.

Because here’s the thing: Matt Murdock is a disaster.

Not on paper. No— on paper, he’s perfect. He’s top of the class, charming when he wants to be, a little cocky, but in a way that makes you laugh instead of wanting to push him down the stairs.

But spend enough time around him and you start to notice things.

Like how he never lets anyone get close. Like how he flirts with half the campus but every single one of his flings ends in vague silence and awkward glances the next day. Like how he knows exactly how to listen to someone but refuses to let anyone hear him.

It’s not a red flag. It’s a goddamn red parade.

So of course I did what any completely normal person with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

I caught feelings for that bastard.

Of course, it's the emotionally unavailable mess with enough red flags to decorate a fucking carnival that catches my attention. Just my goddamn luck.

And, in a moment of sheer lunacy, decided I could fix him.

No really, I could. Just needed time. And patience. And maybe a crowbar for emotional extraction. Whatever. I’ve done harder things. If I can survive Mr Vasquez's class, I can survive whatever this is.

I just have to make sure he never finds out I like him. And also make him like me back. And maybe heal years of trust issues in the process.

Easy, right?

Well, it wasn’t.

Because what started as some deranged attempt to break into the fortress that is Matt Murdock turned into something else entirely. We became friends. Real friends. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about fixing him and started being about just… being there.

And God help me, I think he needed that more than anything.

It wasn’t just me and Matt anymore, either. Foggy came into the picture fast— bright-eyed, effortlessly funny, with an incredible ability to sniff out bullshit in under five seconds. The three of us? Unstoppable. Study sessions, lunch breaks, late-night coffee runs before an exam. They were my people.

So yeah. The plan backfired. Spectacularly. But I had friends for life now, so I couldn’t exactly call it a failure.

It didn’t mean it stopped hurting, though.

Matt’s life… it wasn’t easy. I could see it in the way he shut down when he was overwhelmed, how he buried himself in work instead of letting anyone in. Some nights he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he’d still crack a joke just to make Foggy laugh.

And when he was with other women— when he flirted like it was a language only he spoke— it hurt. Even when I told myself I didn’t have a right to feel that way. He wasn’t mine. I made sure of that.

I’d smile through it. Tease him, even. Make some stupid quip about his tragic taste in women and let the ache settle where no one could see it.

Except Foggy noticed.

He always does.

One afternoon— study session turned snack break in our usual booth— Foggy caught me staring too long. Matt was across the room talking to a girl from one of our electives, charming smile and all.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

I blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? Because that definitely wasn’t your ‘fine’ face. That was your ‘I’m swallowing feelings and pretending to be emotionally stable’ face.”

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I turned to him. “Foggy, I’m not gonna pull a dramatic ‘what are we’ in the middle of a group project. Matt may be a lot of things, but you really cannot force him to be something he doesn’t want to be.”

Foggy frowned. “But do you think he doesn’t want—?”

“Matt would probably suck at relationships,” I said, more tired than bitter. “Like, actual long-term ones. He likes the chase, he likes the moment. And that’s fine. He’s allowed to live how he wants. I just… I’m happy being his friend. Genuinely. Give it time. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second. “That was… wildly mature.”

“Yeah well, personal growth is a bitch.”

He grinned. “Still. If it helps, he’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

I snorted. “No, but he is absurdly pretty. That makes up for a lot.”

We let the topic die after that. I figured that was the end of it.

I didn’t know Matt had heard.

—————————————————————————————————

Third Person POV

Matt had only come back for his notebook.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to hear that.

But he had.

He stopped just shy of the hallway corner, heart thudding loud in his chest. The way her voice dropped when she said “I’ll get over it.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

She thought he’d be a bad boyfriend.

Worse— she didn’t even think he was worth trying.

And Matt knew— he knew— he hadn’t been great. He had a lot on his plate, a whole goddamn feast of mess, but he never once thought she saw him like that. Not undeserving.

She didn’t know he stayed up wondering what it’d feel like to kiss her. For real. Without laughing it off or playing it cool. She didn’t know how often his fingers hovered near hers and didn’t reach. How badly he wanted to.

But if she thought he wasn’t capable of it? Of loving her the way she deserved?

He had to change that.

Not just for her. For him. For the version of himself he wanted to be—the kind that could love someone, openly and fully, without messing it up.

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered when he saw Matt later that night. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or rather... felt a ghost? I don't know, man.”

“I heard something,” Matt said, collapsing onto his bed, voice low.

“Define ‘something.’”

“(Y/N) said I’d be a bad boyfriend.”

Foggy blinked. “Okay. Context?”

Matt dragged a hand over his face. “She was talking to you. In the booth. Earlier.”

Foggy raised his brows. “You, uh, you were there?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Alright, okay. First off— she didn’t say you’d be a bad boyfriend. She said you’d probably suck at steady relationships. Big difference.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because you’ve never tried a steady relationship. Which is kind of the point.”

Matt groaned. “I need to fix this.”

Foggy stared. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to walk me through your version of fixing this.”

Matt sat up. “I’m gonna prove her wrong.”

Foggy blinked. “You’re gonna… ask her out?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I mean— yes. Eventually. But first I need to become the kind of guy she thinks could be a good boyfriend. You know. Change her mind.”

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Just fuck already.”

Matt frowned. “What?”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “You like her. She likes you. I have seen you two. Why do you think you want her to stay longer after we're done studying? Why do you think you linger? Why do you think you bring her coffee and save her a seat and remember her deadlines better than your own?”

Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She fell first, you fell harder,” Foggy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the drill, man.”

Matt stared.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother in Christ, you’re in love.”

Matt exhaled.

“…Shit.”

——————————————————————————————————

Matt didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake, headphones in, a lecture playing that he didn’t hear, the words echoing over and over again in his head.

“She fell first.”

“You fell harder.”

He didn’t even realize when it happened. Somewhere between her snorting at his awful Latin puns and handing him half her sandwich because he forgot to eat again— he’d fallen. And now she thought he was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.

It felt like a punch to the chest.

But instead of wallowing, he decided to do something.

Starting now.

The next morning, Matt showed up to your apartment with coffee. Your exact order. No text beforehand. No heads-up.

You opened the door in pajama shorts and a hoodie, one sock on and a pen still tucked behind your ear.

“Matt?”

He held up the coffee like it was a peace offering. “You mentioned your 9 a.m. was with Vasquez today. I figured you’d need a hit of caffeine and a minor miracle.”

You blinked. “…That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been working on that.”

And then he left. Just like that.

No flirting. No lingering.

Just… left.

You stared after him, cup in hand, completely thrown.

It didn’t stop there.

Matt started walking you to class. All the time.

Not just when you happened to be heading the same direction. On purpose.

He’d show up at your building with some excuse— “I needed air,” or “Foggy wasn’t ready yet”— and fall into step beside you like it was routine.

Then came the favors. Printing your notes when the Wi-Fi was down. Fixing the broken strap on your bag. Letting you drag him to that awful late-night diner when you were too wired to sleep.

You didn’t get it.

This wasn’t how Matt Murdock operated.

Matt Murdock flirted, ghosted, and moved on.

This? This was effort.

It was also torture.

Because the more he did it, the more you started to hope. Stupid, dangerous hope. Maybe he did like you. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided after all.

But every time you thought about asking, about saying something— he’d flash that same unreadable smile and change the subject.

So you kept your mouth shut. Kept watching. Waiting.

Hoping.

Meanwhile, Foggy was losing his mind.

“You can’t just— Matt, you cannot boyfriend her without telling her.”

Matt frowned, folding his arms. “I thought this was the part where I prove myself.”

“To who? To her? She already likes you. You’re not proving anything except that you’re allergic to communication.”

“I’m building a foundation.”

Foggy looked pained. “You’re building a bad sitcom plot. Just tell her.”

Matt hesitated. “She said she didn’t want that. She said she’d get over me.”

Foggy sighed so hard, his soul probably left his body.

“Matt. Listen to me. She said that because she didn’t think she could have you. You have ghosted every girl before her, remember?”

Matt winced. “Not every—”

“Every.”

“…Fair.”

Foggy ran a hand down his face. “You’re gonna lose her if you don’t speak up.”

Matt didn’t respond.

Because deep down, he knew it was true.

——————————————————————————————————

It started with Foggy texting you.

Which was already suspicious, because Foggy never texted first unless Matt was—

foggy: hey can you swing by the quad after class?

foggy: matt’s planning something

foggy: i’m scared :,)

Now, when someone like Foggy— sweet, unshakeable, usually-down-for-anything Foggy— is scared, you listen. You changed your route and headed toward the quad.

And promptly stopped dead in your tracks.

Because what the hell were you looking at.

Matt Murdock stood on a bench.

On a goddamn bench. In broad daylight. Holding what looked like a beat-up portable speaker above his head like he was channelling John Cusack in Say Anything.

Button-down rolled to the elbows. Hair tousled like it’d been run through about seven too many times. Foggy was standing off to the side looking like he was actively regretting every life decision that brought him here.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no.”

A group of students was already watching, phones half-raised. Matt didn’t seem to care.

You watched, frozen, as he raised a hand and cleared his throat. Actually cleared his throat. Like he was about to deliver a valedictorian speech. You saw Foggy mutter don’t do it, like a prayer.

Matt did it anyway.

“I, uh… I know this is weird,” he began, voice carrying over the quad, “but I have something to say. Something important.”

The crowd murmured. A few giggles. One guy yelled “Murdock, you proposing?” which earned a sharp shut up from someone else. Foggy, probably.

Matt ignored it. His face was dead serious. “There’s someone I’ve been an idiot about. Someone smart and stubborn and too good to waste time on someone like me. But she did anyway. She does. And if she’s here—” his head turned slightly “— I want her to know I’m sorry. And that I like her. A lot.”

You blinked.

Foggy made frantic eye contact with you from the sidelines and mouthed stop him.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Matt continued. “I was scared, okay? I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin her. But then I realized I’d rather screw up trying to be with her than let her go without even trying. So, (Y/N),” he called, voice way too confident for a man committing this level of social suicide. “This one’s for you.”

A soft click, followed by the unmistakable synthy intro of Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Savage. Fucking. Garden.

You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Someone nearby went “What is happening?”

Matt? he looked hopeful.

And you— stupid, stunned, wildly endeared— were just about to take a step forward when—

Cue the sprinkler system turning on.

Every. Single. Sprinkler.

They sputtered, then blasted to life across the quad like a synchronized ambush. A collective scream rose as people scrambled away, books and phones held over heads.

Matt? Got hit square in the chest, earning a strained Jesus from him.

Foggy somewhere in the periphery muttering “I told him” like a man in mourning.

You? Soaked. Wide-eyed. Laughing.

You actually had to cover your mouth, you were laughing so hard.

Matt stepped down, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked around like he was being personally smitten by the gods. It was like the universe waited for maximum dramatic tension just to drop the punchline.

The song cut out with a strangled sputter as the speaker died a wet, heroic death. Students screamed. Matt cursed under his breath as he was immediately soaked. Foggy, who had clearly seen this coming, was already power-walking toward the nearest tree, muttering “I’m too pretty for this.”

You stood there in shock as water poured down on everyone.

And then— you burst out laughing.

You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. You doubled over, drenched, laughing so hard it echoed louder than the chaos around you.

Matt stood on the bench, blinking water from his lashes, the speaker dangling uselessly from one hand. He looked like a wet, confused puppy. A hot wet confused puppy. Weird analogy. But still.

You pushed your hair from your eyes and walked over, completely soaked.

“This was your grand romantic gesture?” you asked between giggles.

He ran a hand down his face, sopping. “It was supposed to be better.”

You looked up at him, the pathetic speaker still crackling faintly in his grip. “It was absolutely ridiculous.”

A pause.

You smiled. “It was perfect.”

Foggy squelched up behind you both. “Okay, you’ve both had your romcom moment, can I go home now? My socks are... squishy.”

Matt turned to him, still trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for… whatever part you played in this.”

“I want that thank you in writing,” Foggy muttered. “And a refund for emotional distress.”

You turned back to Matt.

“Do I get to keep the boombox?”

He grinned. “It’s mostly water now. But sure.”

You took a slow step closer. “So… boyfriend material yet?”

He reached out— careful, gentle— and brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Getting there.”

And then you kissed him.

In the middle of the quad. Soaked to the bone. Surrounded by students who definitely started applauding and whistling, because of course they did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Foggy just shook his head.

“Seriously. I hate you both.”

You smiled at him. “Love you too, Fog.”

And Matt?

Well, he didn’t run.

Not this time.

a/n: alright so the fic took a detour from what i had originally planned, it was going to be angst, reader was going to be fwb with matt, and well it's a whole thing, a lot of changes happened but i didn't change the title because well i got attached. i know it doesn't really make sense now with how the story turned out, but i'm leaving it in the story anyway, hope you liked it!

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justmymindandstuff · 3 months ago

Note

Can you write a Reader x Stark Men(Robb or Cregan but I hope you choose Cregan ) where they are having a fight because Reader is jealous. But please with a happy ending?

Good wifes always know- or not? - Robb Stark x WifeReader

summary: Your husband Robb Stark gives all his attention to Lady Karstark, a daughter of Lord Karstark. Hot jealousy leads to a carousel of thoughts in your head and in the end you lash out at Robb. You quickly realize that you have to apologize. But before you can do that, you receive an unexpected, good message.

words: 4.744

warnings: jealousy, miscommunication, arguments, insults, talking about cheating, angst, happy end

a/n: I choose Robb for this (sorry anon) bc I already have a few Cregan fics in my drafts and Robb deserves some love too.

English is not my first language// Not proofread// No use of Y/N// AO3.

requests are open// main masterlist// got masterlist

You stand by the window and look down into the courtyard. Your eyebrows are furrowed as your gaze rests on your husband. Robb walks across the courtyard, of course with Lady Karstark beside him. Lord Karstark has brought his daughter with him on this visit.

A pretty girl, long dark hair, a beautiful face, and a pleasant voice, along with dark, wild eyes. A northern beauty through and through. You hate her.

"Did you know that she is 4 years younger than me?" you turn away from the window to Sansa. She looks up from her embroidery, confused.

"Who?"

"Little Lady Karstark, of course," you grunt. Fiery jealousy crawls through your body once again. You are annoyed with yourself. Still, the feeling doesn't go away.

Sansa sighs, sets her embroidery aside and comes to you. Her hand takes yours and she smiles at you knowingly.

"Robb would never do that." she says, the confidence in her voice barely calms you.

You pull Sansa to the window, nodding outside towards the two of them. Lady Karstark throws her head back and laughs a loud, joyful laugh. She places her hand on Robb's upper arm. You can't quite make out his facial expression, but you're sure he's smiling.

"See," you say to Sansa. "Robb isn't that funny at all."

Sansa sighs again. "Sister." she says in a serious tone. You turn away from the window again. The hot burning in your stomach remains. You have never been jealous in your life.

You look at your hands "I have this feeling." you whisper. Sansas gaze burnes in your side. "It´s a bad feeling." you try to explain something you don´t understand either.

The princess says your name. You hesitate for two heartbeats, hoping that Sansa will talk without you having to look at her. She doesn´t, so you look to her.

"Robb loves you. The girl might be flirting with him, but he will most likely not even notice this. He doesn't even notice other women. Robb only sees you. He loves you."

You don't want to hear Sansa's reasons and turn to leave. She can´t argue against this feeling you have, she can´t understand, she is not married.

"Nevertheless, my husband hasn't left this girls side since her arrival." you say and then walk away.

You nod to Ser Brienne in front of the door. You hear Sansa coming after you. She calls your name and you stop for a moment.

"Sansa, please. I need a moment alone now. I'm sorry." you say.

"Okay." you hear Sansa say quietly behind you. For a second you think about turning around. Then you just walk away. The way to your chambers is so familiar that you don´t need to think about it.

So your thoughts race as jealousy continues to burn through your body.

Lady Karstark. You are already annoyed by just thinking her name. She rides, she hunts, trains with swords, dances only a few dances, but can skin a hare with a dagger. A true northern girl. And she is also very beautiful.

Robb confessed to you at the beginning of your marriage that he actually wished for a marriage to a girl like that. A girl closer to home. And not you. You are the exact opposite.

And for days now, you've had the feeling that Robb would rather spend his days with Lady Karstark than with you. Does he also spend his nights with her?

The thought makes you flinch and tears well up in your eyes. You are glad that you have arrived at your chambers.

The doors close behind you, and you take a deep breath. Then it occurs to you that Robb has been lying next to you for the past few nights. Just like every night in the past few years. A wave of relief washes over you. You shake your head at your own thoughts. What's wrong with you?

You are annoyed with yourself and don't really know what to do so you start pacing back and forth across the room. You don't understand why you are suddenly so jealous of this girl. You don´t really know this feeling. Well, know you know it.

Suddenly something other than jealousy flares up in you. Anger. Anger at Robb. It's all his fault. He was the one who took Lady Karstark on a personal tour around Winterfell.

And today she will join Robb on his hunting trip. He didn't ask you if you want to come with him too. Of course he didn't. Robb knows well that you hate going hunting. You like riding but you can't bear the sight of a dying animal. And killing an animal yourself? No, never. You tried at the beginning of your marriage but hated every second. Robb knows that. And that's why he goes hunting alone with the Karstark girl.

The two of them would happily ride through the forest. Would Robb take her over the southern route, up to the hot springs?

Your thoughts wander back to one of your countless rides. Would he also ride with her to the edge of the springs? Would he also help her off the horse, leaving his hands a little to long on her hips?

At the thought tears well up in your eyes again, you stop and have to blink. You feel sick again, you've been feeling sick all the time for the last few days. This girl is getting under your skin. You go to the window, sit down on the ledge and lean your head against the cold window. Your stomach slowly calms down again. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, and try to think of anything else. But this uneasy feeling remains.

You know what they say: The wife always knows, she feels it.

Is it this feeling they mean?

Countless husbands cheat on their wives. But not your husband, right?

You take a deep breath. Try to focus your thoughts on one of the hundreds of beautiful moments you shared with Robb. The countless times Robb showed you that he loves you.

You stare at forest outside your window, and try to calm yourself down.

But no matter how hard you try, the image of Robb and little Lady Karstark at the hot springs keeps appearing before your inner eye, your brain continues to spin this horrible story.

Robb steps behind Lady Karstark, brushes the cloak from her shoulders, simply tossing it to the side, just like he did with your cloak.

He puts his arms around her, pulls her closer and kisses her neck. He whispers something in her ear, then bites her earlobe, which makes her giggle.

Your own sobs tear you from your thoughts. Shocked at yourself, you slap your hand over your mouth. You don't want to think any further. You can't. You can't bear the idea of Robb sleeping with another woman. Tears run down your cheeks, you wipe them away a little too harsh.

You were always a good wife to him. You were always faithful. You never thought about having anyone else but him. You supported him and gave him good advice. First you were a good and dutiful Lady Stark and then an even better Queen. You know what you're doing, you've studied for nights, analyzed your mistakes.

You listen to Robb, his worries, his hopes, everything.

You quickly forgive him for the few nights he sits at the gambling table for too long and loses one of your necklaces to one of his lords. You don't hold grudges. You love Robb.

And what does Robb do? He rides off to sneak around with some girl. And you will sit here and wait for him. You no longer bother to wipe away the tears on your cheek. You look at your shaking hands.

Gods, you are pathetic. What has become of you? You never wanted to be one of those wives who know that their husband is cheating on them and still waits for him.

You hate yourself a little right now.

And that is all Robb's fault again.

Once again, anger suppresses your other feelings and you gratefully allow it. You would rather be angry at Robb than at yourself.

The rational part of your brain wonders where these sudden mood swings are coming from, but you only allow the thought to pass through your mind for two heartbeats before you concentrate entirely on your anger.

You jump up from your place and start walking back and forth again. This prevents you from shaking. How can he dare to cheat on you? How can he betray and hurt you like that? How can he forget everything he swore to you just because a pretty girl smiled at him? The scene before your inner eye of Robb and her at the hot springs replays itself again, and you feel sick again.

A voice whispers very softly in your head. "You jump to conclusion. Robb did nothing. He is loyal to you." you ignore it.

How can Robb hurt you like that? You two are happy, aren't you? At least you thought so. Nevertheless, he ignores you at dinner because he is so captured by his conversation with Lady Karstark. He treats you like air. You want to scream.

The door opens and Robb steps in. You whirl around. Your husband beams at you.

"Isn´t it a wonderful day, my beautiful wife," he calls cheerfully.

His good mood bounces off you like from a wall. You are boiling with anger as you watch him walk through your chambers.

In a swift motion, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into a corner. For a moment, you are distracted by the sight of his back muscles.

You blink, refocusing on being angry while Robb reaches for a fresh shirt. It's one of his better shirts. You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"What are you doing?" you ask with suppressed anger in your voice.

"I'm changing for the hunt," he replies cheerfully, slipping into his shirt.

"So you have to put on a fresh shirt for the hunt?" your voice drips with accusation, so much that Robb finally realizes something is wrong. He finishes pulling his shirt over his head and then turns to you.

His gaze sweeps over you, your arms crossed in front of your body, your tense shoulders, the daggers your eyes throw at him. You are almost vibrating with anger.

Robb swallows hard, shifting from one foot to the other. He feels visibly uncomfortable, but you don't care right now.

"Or are you putting on a fresh shirt to look good for a certain lady?" you continue to berate him. "And I also noticed that you have shaved," you angrily add the next best thought.

Robb takes a deep breath, his jaw tightens, and you can tell he is thinking.

You let your gaze wander through the room, if you look at him too long, you will scream.

He says your name, but you can't tell from his tone what he feels. Reluctantly, you look at him. He has also adopted a tense posture, and the way he looks at you, with a hint of amusement, doesn't sit well with you at all.

"What?" you snap at him.

"You can't be serious," Robb says seriously.

"You obviously understood exactly what I meant."

"You weren't really subtle. Just ask me directly," he snaps at you angrily. He lets his arm fall to his side and clenches his hand into a fist, relaxes again, and takes a deep breath. Suddenly, his voice sounds calm. "My love, you have no reason to be jealous."

You furrow your eyebrows. You don't know if you believe him. Don't know what to think.

"And why are you riding out with her then?" you avoid his gaze again.

"Because she asked if she could accompany me. The hunt has been planned for a long time. You know that."

You huff. Yes you know this, still there's that uneasy feeling inside you.

A cold fear suddenly at grips you. Will this girl take away your husband from you? Is Robb in love with her? Is he courting her?

You two didn´t have this phase, courting didn't exist between the two of you. When you got married, you were strangers. Not even a week later, King Robert visited Winterfell and after this Robb's family was pulled from one crisis to the next. You stood by his side during that time, did what you could to help him.

And in the midst of war, after the death of his father and the betrayal of his mother, during the worst time of your lives, you decided to give your marriage a chance. You learned to love each other.Your love had been a decision.

Maybe Robb has the wish to make this experience now? To feel this knew feelings? For Lady Karstark?

You notice tears welling up in your eyes again. But you don't want to cry now. Not in front of Robb.

You have to tell him what you feel, explain this uneasy feeling to him.

He would surely understand you. Or he would react with amusement again, maybe even laugh at you? Your stomach tightens with anger once again.

"Should I cancel the hunt?"

Robb interrupts your thoughts, you look at him. You can´t form a clear thought, so your anger makes you spit out the first thing that comes to your mind. "Because you can't resist her when you spend time alone with her?" you accuse him.

Robb's jaw tightens again, you can see that he is trying hard not to get angry. "Of course not." he says through clenched teeth.

It annoys you that he is annoyed.

You have valid concerns and he acts like you're being hysterical.

"What should I do? I'll do everything you want," Robb tries this time with a softer tone.

Never talking to Lady Karstark again would be a solution. You know of course that this is not only irrational but also extremely rude. A rudeness that Robb cannot afford towards Karstark.

"I don't know." you say, annoyed by everything.

And your husband has the audacity to laugh. Now you really can't hold back anymore.

"Then go ahead and fuck little Lady Karstark." you scream at him. Hot anger makes your skin crawl. "That's what you should do. We both know you want it."

Robb stares at you and says nothing. Angrily, you walk up to him and shove him in into his chest. He doesn't take a step back.

"Get out." you shove him again. "Get out of my face."

Robb gives in, takes a step back. He gives you one last look before turning around and leaving the chambers.

You remain motionless for two heartbeats, staring at the closed door. After that you turn around again and stare into the empty space in front of you instead.

You have to swallow, you notice your hands trembling.

You yelled at him, pushed him. Guilt nibbles at you.

Now he would have another reason to fall into Lady Karstark's arms.

She has certainly never yelled at him. She certainly never will.

Good wives don't yell at their husbands, your mother often said that. You have to snort at the thought.

Robb and you were married for two and a half days when you yelled at him for the first time.

As you walked by, you overheard Robb say something to Theon about your wedding night. It was a boyish bragging, probably because Theon had teased him. But you also were just a young girl back then, additionally you were terribly embarrassed. So you exploded. You yelled at him in front of Theon. How he could dare to humiliate you like that and discuss private matters with Theon. You wildling,you insulted him. You would never forget the expression on his face in that moment. Rarely had Robb looked so guilty as in that moment. Nevertheless, you ran away in anger.

Not even an hour later, Robb came into your chambers with red cheeks and a bouquet of flowers in his hand to apologize. He swore to you that he would never again discuss your marital affairs with anyone other than you.

Now he wouldn't come back to apologize. Today, you probably push him straight into the arms of that girl. He would ride out with her, take the southern route, strip off her cloak and dress, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Robb would promise to lay the North at her feet.

Of course, she wouldn't be able to resist him.

You can hate her for being smart, and pretty, and wild. But you can't hate her for giving herself to him.

Robb is charming, you know that. And he can keep all his promises. He is the King in the North. And she's just a stupid girl. Of course, she will fall for him. No, you can´t blame her for this.

Could she make Robb happy? Happier than he is with you? After all, she is his dream girl. Just like he described her back then.

You take a deep breath and stop yourself. You shake your head. That was years ago. Back then, Robb and you didn't love each other. Now it's different. You built your love together, it has grown with you. Robb loves you. A pretty girl can't change that.

You feel your stomach turning again. You take a moment to concentrate on your breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. It´s get better. With every breath you also notice that your anger slowly burns out.

Do you really think Robb would risk everything you two have for a pretty girl?

This time you want to listen to the rational voice.

You think of Sansa and how sure she was that Robb wouldn't even notice it, if Lady Karstark flirts with him.

Why can't you have such unwavering faith in your husband? Guilt crawls under your skin again.

You are such a complete idiot. You know that Robb loves you and he has never given you a reason to doubt his loyalty.

Gods you know that he is constantly surrounded by pretty girls. Normally, you don't care. Because you are sure that Robb doesn't care about these girls.

Why is it different this time? Is she different? You don't want to be mean, but the thought crosses your mind to quickly to stop it: No, little Lady Karstark is just like all the other girls. A little prettier maybe, but nothing more.

You can't understand why you're reacting so extremely.

You know that Robb won't come to apologize this time. This time it's your turn.

You overreacted, you know that. Your accusations were mean. Even if you're still not completely convinced that they're unfounded.

You have the right to be angry. You quickly push the thought away.

You have to apologize to Robb. You take one last deep breath before you turn to step out of your chambers.

You turn to the guard at your door. You don't know if you want to know the answer, yet you ask.

"Has my lord husband gone out hunting?" your voice trembles slightly.

"No, My Lady. His Grace is in his study."

You have to suppress a relieved exhale. "Thank you." you say, giving the guard a smile and then setting off. You have to hold yourself back from running down the hallways.

"Your Grace." Winterfells Maester addresses you two corridors later. You think a moment about sending him away. You want to go to Robb to apologize. Nevertheless, you stop and turn to him. "Yes?"

The Maester takes a step closer, entering your personal space. Astonished by his unusual behavior, you hesitate. Before you can say anything, Winterfell's Maester speaks again.

"My Lady, I know this is a very private topic." he interrupts himself, swallows before continuing to speak. "However, I have noticed that you haven't asked me for your pain potions for the pain during your moon blood for three moons now."

All your thoughts and worries fly out of your brain, immediately your attention is with the Maester. Have three moons already passed? You didn't ask him about the potion because you didn't need it. You didn't bleed.

"Or, My Lady, can I assume that you didn't ask because you weren't bleeding?"

You nod. "Yes." you confirm. Happiness floods through you and you place a hand on your belly. "I am with child."

"It´s possible" the Maester nods.

"I need to go to my husband."

"I should have do a medical examination first."

You raise your hand, shake your head. "This examination is not urgent, right?"

"Right, My Lady."

"Then we can do it later." you say, you still have to apologize to Robb and you have to tell him. You are so full of happiness that you feel like you will burst if you don't tell him.

"Of course, Your Grace." the Maester says and you continue on your way to Robb.

Arriving at the door, you take a deep breath once more. Then you raise your hand and knock lightly.

"Who's there?" Robb's voice sounds muffled. A grin appears on your face at the thought of how happy he will be in a few moments.

"It's me." you say through the door.

"Come in."

Slowly, you open the door and step inside. You have to pull yourself together to avoid beaming at him and bursting out with the good news right away.

You can't look at him, you stare at the ground in front of you, but you feel Robb's gaze on you.

"I have to apologize." you say. You gather all your strength and manage to put on a remorseful face before looking at Robb. You really are sorry, you shouldn't have made those accusations against him. You should have calmly talked to him about your worries.

Despite all that, it has become unimportant at the thought that you are carrying your child in your womb. You have wished for a baby for so long, your own little family.

Your eyes meet. Robb stands up from his desk, comes around. You go to him, extending your hand towards him. It feels good to hold his warm hand in yours.

Robb seems to be searching for the right words, but you can't stand the silence. Too many feelings are swirling inside you at once, and you need to let them out.

"You didn't go hunting." you note and realize once again how relieved you are about it. Your horror thought did not come true.

Robb laughs briefly. "No, I didn't go hunting." he says, squeezing your hand lightly. "I thought that would be the safest decision." a smile dances across his lips. "The last thing I wanted to do is to further annoy my wife."

You press your lips together, notice how you want to grin but manage to stay serious.

Robb has never held a grudge. Now you're glad about it.

Nevertheless, before you can share the good news of your pregnancy with Robb, you want to have the Lady Karstark matter completely resolved.

"You spent a lot of time with Lady Karstark. That has made..." you interrupt yourself, now your thoughts seem ridiculous to you. "I was so sure that you desired her, that you would seduce her on this ride. I don't know why. I'm so sorry."

Robb says your name, he places his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "No. Never would I do something like that. My Love. Lying with Lady Karstark hadn't crossed my mind until you brought it up." a glance into his eyes is enough, and you are convinced that he is telling the truth.

"But you like her." you want to take a step back, he can't deny that. Again, jealousy and insecurity are trying to surface. Robb places his hand on your hip, holding you gently.

"Like I like my Lords. And it doesn't matter. You feel uncomfortable when I talk to Lady Karstark, so I won't do it anymore. Very simple. That's not even a question, my Love. You are my wife. You always come first." he looks deep into your eyes, seems to be searching for something. A shadow flits across his face for a second. "Did I do something wrong to justify your doubts?" he asks quietly.

You gently shake your head. "No. It's just. She seems perfect for you. As if you could give her your heart. A girl from the North." you say quietly and feel a bit ashamed of your own thoughts.

"How could I give my heart to another woman when it belongs to you? In my heart, there is no room for Lady Karstark. It is full of you. I never think of her, only of you. But oviously you are not sure of my love for you, I have failed as a husband. For that, I must apologize."

His words bring tears to your eyes, you sigh, suddenly feel a pleasant calm wash over your body and drive away your fear.

You want to laugh at yourself, how could you forget that your husband is a good man?

Relieved, you have to giggle. You stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss to Robb's lips. He lets out a surprised sound, but when you let yourself fall back again, he follows you. His lips crash onto yours and he pulls you into his arms. You wrap your hands around his neck, enjoying the kiss for a few heartbeats.

As you pull away from Robb, he immediately catches your gaze. A smile appears on your face.

"You haven't done anything you need to apologize for, Robb. I behaved irrationally. I was jealous." you finally confess. You take a deep breath. "However, I have a good excuse for my behavior." Robb furrows his brows, looks down at you. "I am pregnant with your child, husband."

For a moment, it seems as if time stood still. Then Robb wraps his arms around you and spins you through the air in a tight embrace. His laughter reaches your ears.

He sets you back on your feet, his hand resting on your hip. Robb kisses your forehead, then your lips. " Are you sure?"

"Very sure," you say. Robb studies your face closely, then pulls you into a tight hug.

"My Love, you are making me the happiest man in the world right now." he whispers in your ear. You miss the slight scratch that his beard usually causes on your cheek. You lean into his arms, enjoying the warm feeling in your body.

"We will finally be a family." you say and notice the tears of joy running down your cheeks, now that Robb knows too, it feels real. You are pregnant. With Robb's baby. You couldn't be happier.

A knock at the door makes you both flinch, and you take a step back. Robb immediately reaches for your hand.

"Your Grace?" a guard enters the chambers uninvited. "Sorry for the interruption, but it's Lord Commander Snow, he's in the courtyard. He says it's urgent."

You notice how Robb tenses up next to you, you both know that this can´t mean something good. Robb looks at you.

"I need another moment." he says then towards the guards.

You place your hand on his chest. "No, it's fine. Go to Jon. Everything is fine." you assure him and smile.

"Really?" he asks again, you can read from Robb's expression that he would rather stay with you. But his duty as King in the North stands in his way.

"Yes. I have to go to Sansa anyway. I was a bit mean to her." you give him a quick kiss and then nod towards the door.

"I'm hurrying and then I'll come to you." says Robb. "Thank you, wife. You made me very happy today." he kisses your forehead. Your heart flutters happily in your chest.

"Just one more thing, husband." you say before he turns away.

"Everything, My Lady wife."

"Next time you have to ask me before you shave your beard. Or you get yourself in trouble."

"Of course, My Lady." grins Robb, leaning forward to steal another kiss before turning towards the door. "I'll see you both later."

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark fic #game of thrones fic #robb stark fanfiction #game of thrones #robb stark fanfic #tw cheating #house stark fics #spoilers in the tags #tw pregnancy #pregnancy

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fkinkindagauche · 3 months ago

Text

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #my fics #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddiebingo #steddiebingoroundone

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Note

for the dc prompts you reblogged:

can i request jason todd x reader "someone likes being pinned down" + A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks

where reader is also a vigilante??

thank you so much 🩷

very sexy prompts thank u 😌

jason todd x gn!reader. r and robin!jay were friends, r doesn't know jason is alive/red hood but jason knows r is a vigilante. r's alias is 'nocturne' (if that's already in use oh well lmao). fighting/sparring, jason is mega in love with you as usual!!

all fics at @sanguinelibrary

****

"Still blindly following the Bat, huh?"

You land in a crouch on the rooftop, just like how Nightwing taught you. The Red Hood doesn't look at you, digging through two duffel bags. He doesn't even draw his gun, like you've seen him do with virtually every other vigilante in Gotham.

You wait, ready to spring into action. But Hood doesn't stop what he's doing. Slowly, you rise.

"What... do you mean?" you ask.

"I mean, why are you traipsing around Gotham as a bat-adjacent? Who are you s'posed to be anyway? Goth Bat? Alternative Scene Bat?"

"I'm Nocturne," you say, shoulders rising to your ears. Rude. You thought the chunky boots and star over your suit's eye mask were inspired.

Red Hood lifts a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the threads. I'm just surprised B didn't have an aneurysm over the sequins. Then again, Discowing did do it first..."

Your first two meetings with the infamous Red Hood have been similar in that he's never very concerned about you stopping him (ouch), but he also isn't callous or cruel with you like he is with the other vigilantes.

Case in point: the last person who cornered Hood on a roof was Red Robin. Hood shot him in the shoulder before he could land.

In short, he's perplexing as hell.

Batman's forbidden the rest of the team to confront Hood without backup. And you're technically not supposed to be on patrol tonight. But if you can intercept Hood, that'll be a huge win.

Hood keeps on packing the duffels. You hesitate, then step forward.

"Get away from the bags," you say. "I won't ask twice."

Hood looks at you. "Nocturne's a pretty cool name, I'll admit. And I like the boots. But I still think you oughta call it quits."

He zips up the bags, stands, and kicks them to the corner of the roof.

"Because you're just that unstoppable?" you ask, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah. But mostly 'cause I know you're made for so much more than this, sweetheart."

And that is the third and perhaps most bewildering thing about your encounters with Red Hood: you've gotten the creeping feeling that he... likes you.

Which is ridiculous, and if you ever breathed a word of that to anybody, Batman would probably check you into Arkham.

You take another careful step forward. Hood leans against the railing and folds his arms.

"This the part where you apprehend and hogtie me for innocently packing a duffel bag?" he asks.

You glare. "Innocent? I know you're making a weapons delivery because I know you've been waiting for Batman to be off-planet to make it."

"Clever. Told ya you're too good for this," Hood says. "Should be in college with those smarts, not playing maid for Batman."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"I'm advising you as your friendly neighborhood drug lord. Lecturing makes me sound like a guy who's got too much money and too big of a savior complex to understand that the way he fights injustice is fundamentally flawed."

"Sounds personal."

Hood laughs. "Honey, you have no idea."

You strike.

Hood parries your first attack easily, which you expect. The truth is that whoever trained Hood cut no corners and you're still relatively new at vigilantism. It's only by the grace of God that Hood hasn't left you to bleed out on a roof.

You kick his shin, but Hood turns on the instep and blocks. You go for his shoulder, where his armor separates to give him more movement. But Hood's ready for that too, and he catches your arm.

"Gotta keep that right arm up," he says. "Surprised no one's trained that outta you yet."

You elbow Hood in the throat. He coughs and lets go.

"Like that?" you ask, muscles tense with adrenaline.

Hood makes a sound that might be a laugh, still choked from your hit. "Just like that, honeylove. Good job."

"I don't need feedback," you snap, immediately going back in for another hit.

"Sorry. I'll make this quick then. I do have a delivery."

On the next strike, you advance, using a technique Nightwing drilled into your head for bigger opponents. Hood goes down and you land atop him.

"Oh, that's a Nightwing takedown if I've ever seen one," Hood says beneath you.

You're close enough that you can hear his breathing through the decoder. Pride swells in you at taking him down. Not even Batman has managed such a thing.

Hood is warm and big. His shoulder span alone dwarfs you. When you'd seen him from afar, fighting Batman or Nightwing, you'd been terrified.

But now, perhaps stupidly, you feel comfortable. Annoyed, but safe. Something about him reminds you of home. Makes your stomach flip in a good way.

Which is terrifying.

"You're coming with me," you say, reaching for your cuffs.

"If only. Unfortunately, you've forgotten a teensy weensy detail, dearest."

Hood bucks you off, legs first. Your feet fly into the air, which allows him to flip your positions. You wince, preparing for a concussion upon impact as you go down. But Hood cushions your fall and neatly rolls you over. Your back is pressed into the concrete, hands locked over your head. Hood's weight holds down your hips and legs.

He looms over you, easily holding you down. Your face grows hot.

"How did—" You squirm in his grip. "I had you!"

"Weight distribution, sweets. Tell Al—one of the Bats to add weight to your boots. They keep you light on your feet, but you were depending on them too much to hold me down, and we ain't evenly matched there."

You thrash in his grip. "Hood, I swear to fucking—"

"Easy. Don't sweat it, sweetheart. You haven't been doing this for very long. That was a good takedown, regardless. I'm impressed."

"Screw you."

He hums. You can tell he's smiling under the helmet. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't like feedback."

Hood strokes the inside of your wrist. You aren't sure he's aware he's doing it. His grip is firm but light. He's not trying to hurt you. Your pulse is in your throat.

For a moment, you're both still. Hood seems caught in a trance, like even Superman couldn't tear him away from this moment. From you. And it's not that you're afraid, you're just... you're...

"How do you know so much about me?" you blurt, because it's puzzled the whole team. "You been spying on me?"

"'Course not. Unlike your boss, I respect privacy. No, I did research. I recognized you from when you'd hang around that second Robin. Shrimpy little guy. What'd ya even see in him?"

The grief overtakes you before you can control your mouth.

"You don't know anything about me or him," you spit. "Don't fucking talk about him. He had more skill and goodness in his pinkie than you'll have in a lifetime. And you could learn a thing from him about changing a city. He'd tell you that fear alone never works."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.

"Where's your distress signal?"

"Why would I tell—"

Hood shifts over you, cutting off your reply. He pulls a ziptie around your wrists. They're not even a little tight. You could probably slip out of them if you had five minutes.

"I know you're not s'posed to be out tonight," he whispers in your ear. "'S not your patrol night. Good thing you're my favorite."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "How do you—I don't—"

"Uh-huh. So you be good from now on, yeah? Wouldn't wanna have to keep tying you up like this."

You lift your chin. "We'll switch positions soon enough."

Hood snorts. "Okay, I know you heard how that soun—"

"I heard it," you say grumpily. "Just get on with it. Jerk."

"As you wish. Distress signal?"

"Collar."

Hood presses the button under your collar. Your breath hitches as his gloved fingers graze your neck.

"Oh? Does somebody like getting pinned down?"

"In your dreams."

Hood laughs. He zipties your ankles last, then sits you upright against the railing.

"Not too tight, are they?" he asks. "I know you've got a circulation problem."

You squint. "You seem to know a lot about me. Not fair that I don't know much about you, Hood."

"'S just business, honeylove," he says, scooping up his duffel. "Now I don't wanna see you in a suit anymore, comprende?"

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?"

Hood pauses, eerily still. He turns those glowing white eyes upon you. Your heart picks up.

"No," he says, so serious it startles you. "But someone else might. And I don't want you to face the same fate as your good friend Robin."

He vaults over the railing before you can respond. Your head thunks lightly as you lean back and wonder if you're really just business to the Red Hood.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd #dc #inbox #blurb

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shiani25 · 2 months ago

Note

If you're still taking them, I would humbly request a spot of jealous Megatron! Sure Starscream is difficult, but no one can deny how pretty he is. He must have 'cons (and even 'bots, who knows!) coming on to him all the time. And I think it should make Megatron territorial :3c

Ohh this one is good! Nothing better to spice things up than a little bit of possessiveness from Megatron. 💕

"How Not to Die on the Nemesis"

On the Nemesis, there were a few golden rules that every Decepticon—whether a battle-hardened warrior or a fresh-faced recruit—needed to know in order to survive.

1. Do not touch Soundwave’s screens. Ever.

2. Knockout’s finish is more important than your life. Accept it.

3. Never—under any circumstances—wake Megatron up from recharge.

But the most important rule?

4. Look, but DO NOT touch Starscream!

Why?

Because Starscream, the glorious, the sleek, the stunningly aerodynamic, was Megatron’s.

And Megatron was possessive.

Everyone on the Nemesis knew that Starscream was gorgeous.

He knew it, too.

His wings always gleamed, his plating was polished to perfection, and the way he moved—with such grace and confidence—made him impossible to ignore.

Decepticons admired him from afar, whispering about his beauty, his alluring presence, his—

But no one touched.

Because the last mech who tried?

Megatron threw him off the ship.

Through the wall.

Without a shuttle.

But Starscream, being the chaotic menace that he was, loved to make things difficult.

He thrived on teasing.

A lingering touch here, a sultry glance there, a suggestive flick of his wings—and suddenly, some poor fool thought they had a chance.

Spoiler alert: They didn’t.

Because Starscream wasn’t flirting for fun.

He was playing a dangerous game.

A game called: ‘Revenge on Megatron for whatever he did wrong today’.

---

Now, every seasoned Decepticon knew to stay far away from Starscream’s little mind games.

But today?

Today, a new recruit had joined the ranks.

And he hadn’t heard the horror stories yet.

Meet Deadmeat.

Okay, that wasn’t his real designation, but it might as well have been.

Deadmeat was young, naïve, and—unfortunately for him—very, very stupid.

So when Starscream started giving him attention, Deadmeat didn’t question it.

He didn’t stop to think, Wait, why is someone as glorious as Starscream interested in me?

No.

Instead, he thought, By Primus, I must be the luckiest Decepticon in history!

Oh, Deadmeat.

You sweet, sweet fool.

---

Starscream, as always, was in peak form.

He leaned just a little too close to Deadmeat during weapons inspection, his claws tracing along the new recruit’s arm.

“My, my,” Starscream purred, his voice as smooth as the finest Energon. “You’re quite impressive for a recruit.”

Deadmeat’s cooling fans whirred.

“Oh! Uh—thank you, Commander!”

Starscream smirked.

Across the room, Breakdown winced.

Soundwave recorded.

Knockout muttered, “Oh, this poor, poor scraplet.”

Because they all knew what was coming.

Starscream continued his performance, sighing dramatically. “It’s just so refreshing to have someone who appreciates me.”

Deadmeat nodded enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the death sentence he was signing. “Of course, sir! You’re amazing!”

Starscream beamed, but behind that charming smile?

Oh, he was plotting.

Because Megatron—his mate, his lord, his supposedly devoted partner—had ignored him all fragging day.

And Starscream?

Starscream was not the type to suffer in silence.

If Megatron thought he could neglect him, then fine.

He’d make sure his dear warlord noticed him.

And what better way than to provoke his legendary jealousy?

Starscream leaned in, optics half-lidded. “Tell me, soldier… have you ever been desired by someone in power?”

Deadmeat blinked. “Uhh…”

Across the room, everyone took a step back.

Knockout hid behind Breakdown.

Soundwave silently replayed the audio of Megatron’s past executions.

Because they all felt the shift in the air.

The sheer fury rolling off Megatron was palpable.

And when Megatron got possessive?

Oh.

Things got messy.

---

Before Deadmeat could even process what was happening—

BOOM.

Megatron slammed into the room, optics glowing with barely contained rage.

The ground shook.

Decepticons scattered.

And Deadmeat?

Deadmeat was frozen in place. Like a mecha-deer in the headlights.

“M-Mighty Megatron, I—”

That was as far as he got.

Megatron’s fist obliterated Deadmeat’s helm in one punch.

One.

Just one.

The recruit collapsed, utterly and completely offline.

The room went silent.

Starscream, still lounging with a self-satisfied smirk, let out a delighted purr.

“Oh, Megatron,” he sighed dramatically. “I was so worried you didn’t notice me anymore.”

Megatron glared at him, still seething with anger. “Starscream, you are impossible to ignore.”

#breakdown #knockout #megatron #starscream #transformers #transformers prime #decepticons #megastar #tfp #reqs open #request #soundwave #ai artwork

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inkpot909 · 11 months ago

Text

Falling for an Oblivious Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: Exploring these guys’ inability to spit it the hell out was extremely fun. What a couple of disaster men.

Warning(s): None.

Johnny Joestar

At first, he’ll wonder if he’s just out of practice.

Johnny’s never been interested in someone so oblivious they miss every little hint or flirtatious remark he throws their way. Having been a famous jockey, people used to flock to him; he hardly needed to even try.

But by the time of the Steel Ball Run, he hasn’t been with anyone romantically in a good while. He could count how many years since, but he would rather not keep track.

And you’re not exactly making things easy for him.

Going about your day looking the way you do… and then having the audacity to not pick up a single signal from him (Or anyone else for that matter). Honestly, it should be illegal.

Johnny’s natural instinct, unfortunately, is to immediately assume he’s not what’s clicking. Lord, am I… not being obvious enough? he often wonders.

It’d be one thing if you wanted to outright reject him; he can handle rejection (No, really, he can). It’s just the way the horse gallops sometimes.

But you don’t even seem to notice at all and that’s what’s so frustrating to him.

Just thinking of it can make annoyance fester inside his mind. Gyro throws him a knowing look whenever it’s visibly getting to him; to you it just seems like his mood spikes at random.

His annoyance isn’t directed at you, of course, but at himself (As much as he outwardly blames you, it’s really just a front).

Has he really lost his ‘skills?’ Did the passing years make him completely forget how to flirt with someone? Gyro seems really keen on telling him that’s the case.

And Johnny is nothing if not contrarian to everything Gyro says.

The guy is bending over backwards, doing anything he can do to try to impress you. All while Gryo is not-so-subtly ragging on him over it in the background.

“Quit it! For the love of God-“

“Awe, c’mon Johnny, it’s not like they’re noticing anyways!”

Johnny hates how right Gyro can be.

He’s metaphorically tripping over himself left and right, feeling like he’s at the same level of a clueless middle schooler desperately trying to seem ‘cool’ in front of a crush. Gyro’s damn near crying of laughter at his struggle to make you get it…

But all you do is just stand to the side. Smiling kindly, and blinking without an ounce of procession of his actual intent behind your pretty eyes.

Agony… Johnny Joestar is in pure agony… you’re lucky he finds you cute.

You’re so frustratingly oblivious he can’t even tell if you might like him back, and at this point he’s honestly just trying to get a read on your feelings before he spells it out for you bluntly.

Such an approach is needed with you, apparently.

It’s around this time too that he realizes… Holy shit, they’re really just that oblivious.

Someone else approached you at a bar during one of your numerous stops during the race. Both Johnny and Gyro knew exactly what they were getting at the moment they walked over, a sly smile presented on their face.

All while you sipped from your drink, your expression and tone of voice so casual one might assume you were simply discussing the weather.

Johnny isn’t ashamed to admit he felt a sense of pride as the person ultimately walked off, giving up.

Luckily for you, Johnny is not.

You’ve stolen his heart so completely without even trying… he can admit to himself it’s a beautiful thing- if he detaches himself from his own frustration.

He’s going to keep trying to get you notice; try to get a read on however you feel about him. Even if it takes him the entire Steel Ball Run to do so!

And, yes, it does take that long.

Gyro Zeppeli

So what, you didn’t notice the first time he winked at you? It was real sunny out that day- the light probably shined in your eye and made you miss it.

Whatever, if his first flirtation or two ultimately fell on deaf ears. Statistically speaking, not every line is going to land the way he wants.

Who cares if his apparent interest in you is obvious to literally every one other than you? It’s your loss, to be honest.

Not that he really cares.

And you know what? He doesn’t care so much he’ll snap at Johnny for bringing it up. He’s not bothered by it… so why does the guy feel the need to mention his failed attempts at showing interest? Really, it’s just a little annoying the jockey thinks it matters to him at all.

… it should go without saying that he does not handle the frustration well at all in the beginning.

He won’t necessarily blame himself.

He is aware of his own ability to flirt, and his past has granted him a sense of confidence in it. Gyro’s certainly the forward type, and knows that.

Yet, everything he says or does seems to go right over your pretty head. It’s a not a notion meant to flatter you either- one he keeps to himself with pouted lips and arms crossed.

It’s a rather childish anger directed towards you, but it doesn’t last too long.

Eventually, he also comes to the (Begrudging) conclusion that he really cannot blame you. Gyro realizes this around the same time he figures his liking of you goes far deeper than a casual fling.

And if anything, he’s going to start directing his frustration towards the people in your past.

Clearly, no one’s really hit on you before… or worse, something happened to you that made you think no one ever would- so thick-headed in that belief that you don’t even perceive it.

It’s in Gyro’s nature to let his mind ponder the ‘why’ behind your obliviousness- especially when he thought he was being so obvious about it.

Either possibility makes him want to find whoever contributed to your inability to pick up a signal, grab them by the shoulders, and shake them violently.

But with time, he’s going to find it endearing (Not that he’s ever admit it out loud).

Look at you… riding your prized horse as if you’re not the most beautiful person in the Steel Ball Run. And the smirk doesn’t at all falter even when the three of you stop at a dingy town for the night.

“I’ve had three strangers walk up to me since we entered the saloon… the people in this town are so friendly!”

“Y/n, dear, they’re all trying to hit on you.”

“What? No way! They just wanted to talk about the race over a drink or two. One of them said they had gin from France up in his hotel room. Can you believe that? Sounds delicious, right?”

“… good lord, Y/n.”

It’d be funnier if he wasn’t another trying and failing to flirt his way into making you open your damn eyes.

At some point, Gyro just has to spit it out.

It comes during the climax of one of the race’s many stopping points. It’d been looming over his mind for weeks, and if someone were to ask him (Okay, if Johnny asks him) he would bitterly grumble that it’s been affecting his scores.

His logic behind doing this at specifically that point in time… flawless.

How are you going to blissfully remain in the dark if he’s shouting his confession at you from the finish line in front of a large group of confused onlookers?

They just wanted to see the race… not one of the top contestants with a heavy Italian accent declaring his love for you while damn-near standing on top of his horse.

#this fic was brought to you by maggot brain by funkadelic #and the cosmetics store i work at #jjba #johnny’s work #jojo’s bizarre adventure #manga #anime #steel ball run #sbr #johnny joestar x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #gender neutral y/n #jjba x reader #headcanons #fluff #sfw #fanfiction

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rootspiral · 5 months ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

agatha closes her eyes when rio confronts her, she's scared and overwhelmed like during their fight in episode one, when she couldn't quite hide her panic behind all the posturing. their moment of complicity is gone, and rio's anger is back in full force

they're both posturing tbh. they're playing the old "killing is so sexy of you" game, but it's not working, flirting and deflecting is no longer possible, there is too much pain and resentment involved. these bodies, alice and lilia, are heavy between them, they're an open wound and an accusation.

agatha follows the script, but with no theatrics, no fake drama. there are no masks she can hide behind anymore, especially not in front of rio. it's just her, naked, with the grief and pain in full view.

and look, the placement of that tree has to be deliberate, it wasn't there a moment ago. the tarots cannot lie. the real agatha, stripped down to her ugly soul, carries this unfathomable pain, these three swords piercing her heart.

and there it is again, the elephant in the room. rio can't and won't ignore it.

agatha still tries to deflect, to buy time. look at her, she knows it's useless. she's crying, and she's so full of spite. flight is not an option anymore. fight it is.

they have BEEN through this. rio is supposed to do her GODDAMN job

but it's so much more complicated than that now. agatha literally went and fucked up a perfectly good grim reaper, is what she did. once upon a time rio would have had no hesitation, no resentment. but now she knows that harming billy will ONCE AGAIN hurt agatha and make agatha hate her even more, and it's too much to handle. agatha has put her in an impossible situation. again.

and THIS BITCH still has the AUDACITY of denying it. she still tries to walk out of the conversation, and rio has to step in front of her and physically stop her

te veo. always, always, always. despite all this shit between them, rio cares about her SO MUCH, all she can think about is what agatha is doing, how agatha is feeling. trying and trying to fix the impossible.

agatha attempts a mocking smile, but she can't. she can't put up that barrier anymore. rio's words are making her extremely uncomfortable. she is the one who observes, who schemes, who studies others for her own advantage. I can't believe I keep bringing up agatha's nakedness in such a non-horny way, but this woman HATES being perceived, hates showing weakness and revealing her fragility. it's a trauma response dialed up to the max.

this walk with another woman's son on a road that doesn't ex-

oh, rio. oh, baby. you're jealous. another woman, another child. she has chosen them over you, and refuses to see how much it's hurting you. how much she is hurting you. you're so, so angry.

rio is almost at her limit, and look at her. she is still trying to break through agatha's thick stubborn skull. it's no use, no use.

agatha is cornered. she's shaking with fury. she cannot run, she can only scream and lash out.

and dear lord, rio is still being soft. she's holding her ground, she's speaking her mind, but despite all, she doesn't yell, she's being so gentle with agatha. she's still trying to make her see reason. look what I did for you, agatha. I bent the rules of the universe for you. how can you not see it?

did I already say how glad I am for kathryn hahn's golden globe nomination? it's so well deserved. look how different she is here from her usual agatha, so still, devoid of any silliness. just pain and white hot rage. you call WHAT YOU DID special treatment.

and aubrey too, honestly. her characters are always so over the top and weird, and she is being so understated here. she flinches at agatha's words like she can't quite believe them. they really never had this goddamn conversation, agatha really avoided it and ran away screaming for two centuries straight. all rio wanted was to explain herself and to be forgiven, even though she's not guilty of anything and she knows it. but agatha's pain goes beyond reason. no, worse than that, agatha's pain is her reason, her raison d'etre, agatha protects it and fuels it and rio cannot compete with it.

the way she's almost breathless. like the pain is so much it's physical, like it's punching her stomach and chocking her airwaves.

and rio snaps at that. rio has her walls too, and she's very good at keeping her personal feelings at bay. agatha is headbutting those walls like a mad bull, and she's almost through. you are the one who takes, agatha. everything is always about you, your needs, your anger, your pain. there is never room for anything or anyone else.

agatha tries to run again, rio puts her whole body in the way, again. remember their first interactions in the show, when agatha kept running and rio would just let her? that's all over now.

rio hesitates. she takes a beat, and tries to deescalate. i cannot believe she is STILL trying, still pushing her anger back and asking about agatha's feelings instead, acting like a therapist. she is once again acknowledging agatha's pain and trying to walk her through it. do you see how unbalanced this is? and from someone who's ostensibly all about balance.

why do you make people hate you? why can't you open up about all that happened to you? why don't you want their help? my help?

she doesn't say nicholas. she calls him nicky. it's the intimacy of a child and grief that they share, no matter how much agatha wants to make it only about herself.

agatha needs a moment to answer, she needs to collect all her strength first. but she finally says it, and it's another tiny, tiny step ahead. there's almost a question in her voice, like she's testing these words so obvious but so strange to her. she'd rather make people believe she's cruel and uncaring, that she hates everybody, she hates children! that she exchanged her own son for the darkhold.

the truth is that she had a son she loved so fiercely, he was six years old, and he died. the truth is, she couldn't save him. and that is just too awful for anyone to comprehend. and so she lashed out, she inflicted pain, she embraced her anger and protected it like a treasure. being angry was easier than being sad.

meanwhile billy is still grappling with what lilia did.

jen too is grappling with lilia's selflessness. lilia has set an example that has affected her deeply.

she explains to billy what Green Craft is and why it makes sense for Death to be a green witch, and she's not as calm as she's projecting, there are tears in her eyes and she's sniffling, her voice is hoarse from screaming.

yeah, kid. it's a lot.

jen is like, have you MET agatha?

next up: rio has somehow convinced agatha to sit and talk. will they finally work their shit out? (spoiler: no they won't.)

go to episode 8 part 3

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agathario #rio vidal #agatha harkness #jennifer kale #billy maximoff #character study

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