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lightseoul · 1 year ago

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endearment

synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing

word count. 1.9k words

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.

“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”

From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.

The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.

You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.

Go figure.

He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.

Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.

“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.

Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”

Humming an okay, you click the accept button.

“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?

You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”

At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”

You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”

With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.

You poke at his side, trying to be playful.

“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”

He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.

Huh.

The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.

“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.

You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”

From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”

Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.

You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”

At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”

“Yeah…”

You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.

Emergency contact.

You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.

“You named his contact…Bakugou?”

Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”

Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”

Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.

When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.

Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.

“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.

The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.

You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.

Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.

With his mother, of all people.

“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.

She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”

Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.

Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”

In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.

When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”

“Oh—I—uh…”

You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.

You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.

Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”

To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”

You could simply nod in response.

From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”

A fourth time does not end up happening.

Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.

‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.

Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.

Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?

You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.

Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.

A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.

Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”

At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”

You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”

You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”

“Bad news face?”

Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”

“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”

You shrug sheepishly.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”

He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”

“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”

With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.

A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.

“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?

You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”

Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.

He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”

“What are you talking about?”

This is what made him act weirdly the past week?

“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.

“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”

“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.

“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”

You shoot him a knowing look.

You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.

Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.

You gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

He only grunts in response. You press on.

“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”

You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.

“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”

“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.

Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”

He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”

At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.

He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.

“Stop laughing at me.”

And when you don’t: “Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”

He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”

You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”

At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.

“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”

You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.

“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”

bonus:

“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”

“At this hour?” he snorts.

“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”

You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.

Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.

At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.

Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”

He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.

“Can I call you babe?”

Bakugou chokes on his spit.

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

#as i said #we love an emotionally constpiated bakugou <3 #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst

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peterman-spideyparker · 4 months ago

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Patience is a Virtue (Matt Murdock x fem!virgin!Reader) (Virtuous Person Part 2)

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I know I've basically disappeared from writing, but I lost inspiration and motivation to write for a while, and then with just life in general, finding time to sit, write, and edit became near impossible. This definitely isn't my best, but writing is writing, right? I hope you enjoy it! :)

Summary: After Matt found out you were a virgin, he told you he would wait for and with you. Almost two years later, he's still holding steadfast to that promise and about to delight you on your wedding night.

Warnings: Kissing and being cute idiots in love, flirting, pet names foreplay, smut (fingering - f!receiving, handjob, oral - f!receiving, praise kink, p in v sex) Matt is a sexy menace, checking in on Reader to make sure they're okay, Reader is a virgin but knows some things

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 4,984

Matt’s hand rests on your waist, his arm holding you close to his side as the two of you make you way to the front door of the loft. He pulls his keys out of his pocket, finding the right one and sliding it in. His grip tightens on your waist as you try to take a step forward. Before you can ask, he swoops you up into his arms, kissing your temple as he walks in.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he hums.

You giggle, resting your head against his. “It’s good to be home, Mr. Murdock.”

Matt doesn’t put you down until you’re in his—now your—bedroom, his lips on you as your feet touch the floor.

“How can I help, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips dreamily.

“Well,” you sigh, mindlessly plying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “if you can help me undo the buttons on the back, I think I can take it from there. You have your own layers of tuxedo to worry about.”

Matt smiles as you turn around, and you feel his lips almost immediately press soft kisses onto the back of your neck as his fingers work to unloop the buttons down your spine. You feel your skin burn hot, goosebumps dancing all on top of your flesh as he makes his way down your back. When you feel his fingers try to gently push the dress off your body, you take a step away, biting your lip as you smile and turn back to face him.

“Patience is a virtue, my dear husband,” you hum as you slowly back your way toward the bathroom. “Five more minutes. I promise. Unless you need more time to get out of that tux?”

“I can be ready in two,” he grins, undoing his bow tie.

“You might, but I still need the five minutes.”

Matt laughs, leaning forward to give you a sweet kiss, happiness written in every pore on his face.

“Five minutes,” he repeats.

You smile and give him one more kiss before you walk into the bathroom and close the door. You sigh in relief as you get out of my dress—for as much as you love it, you are so happy to get the weight of the layers of fabric off of your body. You hang it up on the shower rod before you quickly move to the sink to wipe off your make up and take down your hair, combing it out to loosen the hold of the hairspray before refreshing your deodorant. You move to where your robe hangs on the back of the door, uncovering the special lingerie you hid a couple of days ago. Knowing Matt and his senses, he probably found it already, but that doesn’t take away your nerves and excitement for the night. He loves you, and you love him—Matt waited with and for you, and tonight, you’d finally be together in the way you’d been thinking about for so long. With a deep breath, you take the lingerie down and work to get it on.

You twist and turn in the mirror once it’s all on and in place. You look good—you feel good. Sexy, even, which is not something you can say you feel on the regular. Well, that is before you started seeing Matt. He always knows just what to say, just where to hold onto you, he just knows you, plain and simple. His love and support are more than you could ever ask for, and you’d hope he’d say the same about you. He married you for a reason, right?

Taking a deep breath, you fix your stockings and adjust the way your boobs sit in your bra before you reach for the doorknob and slowly walk back to the bedroom, the click of your heels echoing in the loft.

You can’t help the smile on your face when you lean on the doorway of the bedroom. Matt’s laid out on the bed like he’s posing for a painting or a sculpture, one arm behind his head with a knee propped up as his face smiles softly, dreamily toward you. Let’s face it, he looks like a work of art.

“You were longer than five minutes,” he hums.

“Oh, well, I can go back in the bathroom and take longer if you want?” you tease, your laughs bouncing almost immediately off the old brick of the bedroom. Matt gets up off the mattress, padding his way over to you. He takes your hands in his, bringing your left one up to his lips to kiss your rings.

“Hi, angel,” he whispers.

“Hi, Matty,” you breathe.

“Want to get to bed?”

“Mm, sounds nice.” You take his hands and place them on your waist, and you watch as Matt licks his lip and suck it between his teeth. “You know, I bought a lot of different options in different colors. Couldn’t really decide on what to do. Black looked good, and I know you have a thing for red, but, white felt appropriate for tonight.”

Matt’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, his fingertips playing with the soft lace and mesh. “Something tells me that you’ll get to wear all of your options this week.”

Matt takes a small step back toward the bed, and you follow him, your stocking garter brushing against his leg, and you swear you hear him purr in delight.

“Tell me what you’re wearing angel,” he demands softly.

“Well, the bra is a little corset-y. It pushes my boobs up,” you start with a little smile, moving his hands along the garment, letting him feel what you describe. “The cups are satin overlayed with lace with little embroidered flowers. Some are white and some are a light blue. The rest is a mix of lace and mesh. The thong—.”

“You’re wearing a thong?” he smirks.

“Mmhmm.” You guide his hands down your torso and to the fabric on your hips. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be. It’s the same mesh, lace, and embroidery as the bra. Then there’s a garter belt that has clips that are clipped to my stockings. And I believe you felt the garter against your leg. And the heels will be coming off . . .” You kick them off behind you while you stay in his hold. “There we go.”

“Damn, I’m a lucky man,” he smiles as you get to the edge of the bed.

“I’m a lucky woman. Now,” you whisper in his ear. “Do you want to tell me what you’re wearing?”

Matt laughs, holding you close and kissing your shoulder. “I think the boxers are white. Could be black. You’re the one with working eyes, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I know, but I told what I’m wearing. Sexy and fair.”

“Ah, well . . . how about we add fun to that running list?”

You smile and nod, leaning into Matt’s touch on your neck before your lips meet. You both fall back onto the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress from the momentum. The kisses start sweet enough before they grow into something more, Matt’s hands squeezing at your waist. Your heart rate increases as things get steamier, and you moan in delight when Matt turns you around on the bed, kissing you down into the mattress. He trails his kisses down on your neck, and you toss your head back on the pillow, letting out a breathy moan. You feel Matt’s lips pull into a soft smile, his lips moving back to your.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” he whispers as he kisses you. “It’s been a long day. We can wait.”

“I’ve already waited this long,” you breathe, craning your neck to look at him, your fingers running through his soft hair. “I don’t want to wait any longer to be with you.”

Matt beams, the crinkles you love so much appearing at the corners of his eyes, the hazel orbs twinkling like stars before he leans in and crashes his lips to yours.

“Just lie back and enjoy yourself for me, angel,” he whispers, his lips barely parted from yours.

“You sure, Matty?” you ask. You appreciate him taking the lead, but you don’t want him to feel like he has to do all of the work.

“I’m sure. Tonight, right now, is about me making my wife feel good.”

You smile and giggle lightly, your cheeks burning hot at him calling you his wife. Matt matches your bubbly, giddy outburst, smiling as he kisses you again. His hands run up and down your body gently, his movements loving, his fingers sending fire throughout your skin. His lips move from yours, exploring and nibbling at your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a soft moan falling from your tingling lips as his hands approach your ribcage. You moan softly as you get a new wave of goosebumps all over, his fingertips repeatedly teasing you as he moves to unclasp your bra. Your stomach flutters as he kisses you, unlatching the bra hook by hook, painstakingly slow until you feel the entire thing loosen on your chest. Matt presses gentle kisses on every inch of skin that his lips can find. When his lips reach your shoulder, his fingers ghost up your arm to pull at the loosened bra strap. As it starts to slide down your skin, you suck in a gasp, your hands gripping on to Matt.

“It’s okay, angel,” he whispers, moving his face back up toward you. “It’s just me. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“I know,” you breathe, your heart thundering in anticipation in your chest. “I know. It just . . .”

Matt presses his lips to yours, long and slow. “I know,” he echos reassuringly. “Do you want to be the one to pull the straps down?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head against the satin pillowcase. “I want you to do it.”

Matt nods before gently pushing down your straps some more until they’re halfway down your arm and your breasts are exposed to him. He slides off the lacy fabric and tosses it somewhere to the side, his lips moving to your collarbone. You moan in delight when you feel how his large hand cups the side of your bare breasts, his simple touch sending fire throughout your body. Matt leans down, kissing your clavicle slowly, softly, and repeatedly, worshiping the exposed flesh surrounding your heart.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” you breathe in response, working to maintain focus as your body becomes enveloped in him and his touch. You feel yourself clench around nothing as Matt’s mouth moves over your breast, his lips wrapping around your nipple. You gasp and tug at his hair, desperately wanting him closer. His face squishes against the supple flesh as he tries to go deeper, his stubble tickling you. Matt chuckles, his lips turning up into a smile as he repeats the same movement on your other breast. His kisses and sucks work to make each nipple pert and perky before wrapping his warm, calloused hands around them, giving them a squeeze as he dives in for another kiss.

Of all the things you could be focusing on right now, you’re enamored by the way his nose squishes against yours, passionate and intense. You’ve been in similar positions before, bodies flush against each other and lips locked in a tender and needy embrace, but this one feels exponentially better. You hold his face in your hands, keeping him close. He pulls back, needing air for his lungs that isn’t from your own.

“Are you doing okay?” Matt swallows, brushing some hair off from your forehead.

“I’m alright,” you breathe. “You have a great mouth.”

He smiles and laughs, leaning back in for another quick kiss.

“Oh, angel,” he coos. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

You cheeks burn hot as your legs involuntarily squeeze against his. He chuckles softly some more, his hands roaming down your sides until they get to the waistband of your garter belt.

“I think you’re still a bit overdressed, though, Mrs. Murdock,” he coos.

“I can say the same for you, Mr. Murdock,” you hum, your hands sliding down his back and over the curve of his perfectly round ass, giving it a squeeze. “It’s been left to my imagination for too long.”

“It has?” He rolls his hips into yours lightly, letting you feel through the thin layer of cotton just how hard his is.

“It has. I need visuals, my sweet husband.”

“Okay. But let me make things a little more even, first.”

You watch as he sits up on his knees, taking one of your legs in his hands. His fingers move toward the snaps on the garter belt before he gently starts to peel off your stockings. His lips are on your skin as the nylon rolls down, worshiping every ounce of flesh, sending yet another round of goosebumps and fire all along your skin. Once he is done with one leg, he moves to the other, using his teeth to pull off the garter before taking off the garter belt and repeating the same process with your stocking.

“There,” he says as he kisses your lips, gently taking hold of your hands and pulling you up to sit, weaving your fingers together. “We’re even.”

“Seems we are,” you smile. “You still have too much clothing on you, though.”

He chuckles. “Well, whose fault is that?”

“Mmm, I’m putting this one on you,” you smile as your hands move down the contours of his body. Your hand glides over his bulge, giving him a squeeze, delighted at the flush you make appear on his skin as he sucks in a breath. “Can you take these off for me, Matt?”

“I’m not quite finished with you, you know,” he breathes, lust hooding his eyes.

“I figured. But I want you to feel good, too.”

“Trust me.” He moves his hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your panties and into your slick heat. Your mouth falls open, a stuttered moan filling the space between your bodies as he plays with you, stopping you in your tracks as you rub him. “You’re making me feel all kinds of good, sweetheart.”

After a few beats, you’re able to get your bearings. You lean forward, attaching your lips to his neck as you work to mark him up as yours as you palm him. Matt keeps up his work with his fingers, breathlessly praising you for both of your actions.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants. “Shit, your hand feels so good. So good at making me so hard for you. Such a good girl for me.”

His other hand slips around your waist and down your back, getting a handful of your ass and squeezing the flesh. “Let me take your panties off, sweetheart. Let me put my face between those legs.”

“Will you take your boxers off for me?” you murmur into his clavicle as you move your lips up to his neck, gently sucking on a spot that you know drives him crazy.

“I’ll give you all of my underwear if you let me taste that pussy of yours.”

You giggle, moving to kiss him deeply as he leans you back down on the mattress, his fingers moving out from your underwear and to your hips. He pulls you toward him, and you get the hint to lift your hips to help him slide the fabric off. True to his word, Matt slides off his own boxers and you see him completely bare. It feels like your eyes bug out of your head as you take him in, lying back on your elbows. He’s large, for sure, and he looks thick. Not that you have anything to compare him to from personal experience, but, he’s truly a sight to behold.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, partially amused, the other part very sincere.

“Oh, I’m good,” you muse. “Wow.”

Matt laughs, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he smiles, guiding you down on the mattress. “You’re pretty ‘wow’ yourself there, angel.”

He continues to place scattered kisses down your body, and you moan softly as he does. When he kisses at your belly button and inches lower, you swallow hard, his lips making you warm and tingly. Matt’s kisses are slow and deliberate, lingering on different parts of your skin where you don’t want him to focus on. Finally, Matt moves his mouth to hover over your exposed core, and he lets out a long, warm breath over your dripping folds. You whine at the teasing sensation, your hips bucking toward him, and you see Matt grin devilishly before you feel his hands on the inside of your thighs and his lips on you.

You cry out, your back arching as your thighs try to close around his head. Matt’s fingers squeeze into your flesh, keeping them open as he hums in delight. He was right when he told you about his mouth earlier. His tongue laps up everything that drips out of you, his plush lips wrapping around your clit. You start to squirm a little in delight, but Matt slides his hands over your skin to your hips to hold you in place before he pulls his head up.

“You taste so fucking delicious, (Y/N),” he breathes, his mouth glistening as he tries to lock his eyes on yours. “I’m going to keep going, and I’m also going to slide my fingers in. Tell me if you need me to stop, and let me hear every little moan and breath that you make.”

“Matthew . . . Fuck, Matty,” you say softly, running your fingers through his fluffy hair. He hums in delight, keening into your touch. “You’re being so good to me.”

“Well, happy wife and all,” he smiles, kissing at the fold of your hip. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you let me eat you out so you’re nice and ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you swallow, your heart pounding in eagerness and excitement.

Matt smiles, kissing your thigh once more before gently spreading your lips with his fingers, trying to keep his gaze upward as he licks you. Your jaw drops at the sight and the sensation, throwing your head back on the pillow and moaning in delight, one hand squeezing your breast as the other stays in Matt’s hair. Matt hums, and the vibrations only help with the sensations, rippling like shockwaves through you. The ministrations of his mouth only grow more deliberate, throwing you for loop after loop. You practically scream in delight when you feel Matt carefully prod one, and then two fingers in you, curling them deliciously against a spot inside of you.

“You like that, angel?” he teases against your puffy lips, and the soft kisses he presses to your surrounding skin make you feel absolutely insane with pleasure.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out fast as he continues to curl his fingers. “Oh my God.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“What do you like better? My mouth or my fingers?”

“Don’t know,” you moan, feeling the pleasure build through your body.

“You don’t know, angel? But you’re so smart. You’re my smart girl. My smart, beautiful wife.”

Between the praise and the sensations, you can’t form a coherent sentence. It’s like everything you could possibly say, even the most basic of words, have fallen entirely from your brain and everything is just focused on Matt’s body between your legs and his velvety voice.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coos softly. “Use your words for me, honey. Which do you like better? My mouth or my fingers?”

“M-Mouth?” you stutter, even as his thumb presses on your swollen clit and you moan in delight.

“My mouth?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Didn’t sound too convincing. Let me see . . .”

Matt’s mouth is back on you as his fingers continue to pump and curl between your legs. You swear you could levitate off the mattress. You desperately wrap around Matt, your legs squeezing his head so tight you’re afraid it might pop off, your fingers tugging at his hair. He thoroughly enjoys himself, moving his head from side to side on you and eating you out like you’re his first meal after five years in the desert. You feel a strong tightness grow in your abdomen as he continues and your heart races. Matt moves his left hand up and laces his fingers with you, giving you a gentle squeeze as you teeter a dangerous line. It’s like your desire for him just increased ten times more than what you already feel; you want him, and you want to make him feel good like he’s doing to you right now. With a swift movement of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, you feel something snap in you as you cry out at the top of your lungs, your entire body spasming as you come around Matt’s fingers and on his face. Matt tries to get his face deeper in you, licking you clean and taking everything you offer him before pulling back and kissing all over your skin.

“I’d say you like my mouth better,” he pants with a smirk, letting you watch as he licks his fingers clean. “Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You’re incredibly blissed out and completely entranced by him, but you nod, pulling him down for a kiss.

“I’m stellar,” you breathe as he pulls back from the kiss. “That was . . . You’re . . . I love you, Matt.”

Matt smiles more, and you’ve never seen him glow quite like he is now. Sure, he was radiant today, but now there’s a little layer of something extra on him. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

He pulls you in, but whatever switch turned on in your brain while he was between your legs with his fingers locked with yours now has a voice shouting in your head that you can’t quite ignore telling you to take control.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Matt breathes, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he follows where your hands guide him on the bed.

“You told me to lie back and enjoy myself, and I did,” you say as you move to straddle his lap. “Now I’m going to ask you to do the same.”

“Are you sure?” He looks surprised, but incredibly turned on at the same time. “You know you don’t need to. I can keep—.”

“Mm, I know,” you nod. “I want this. I want to do this. Is it okay with you.”

“Yes,” he breathes, totally enamored as his hands glide up and down your thighs.

Taking a deep breath, you grab Matt by the base of his cock, holding him straight and lining him up with you so you can sink down on him. You moan at the sensation of him. He feels just as large—perhaps even larger—then you could have ever imagined. Matt closes his eyes and throws his head back, moaning in delight. It’s so hot to hear him make those noises, you just want to keep pulling them from his throat.

“G-Go slow,” he instructs, a flush spreading on his chest. “Take your time taking each inch, sweetheart. Go slow and listen to your body.”

You nod, listening to his advice and take him carefully, the stretch and burn both painful and delightful. You swallow hard when you get all the way down, letting yourself take in the full feeling of him and how you stretch around him. Matt’s hands glide up your thighs, going up over your curves to your waist. His fingers spread and trail in front of my stomach, and you can feel him graze against where his cock is in you before they slide back down to settle on your hips.

“You okay, angel?” he whispers.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “You feel so amazing, Matty.”

“So do you, angel.”

Slowly, you start to roll your hips back and forth to give way to some of the friction and pressure, needing to feel him. Your mouth drops and you start to moan, his thick cock tickling every last nerve ending between your legs. Matt’s fingers dig into your hips as he helps guide you along.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he breathes breathlessly as he licks his lips. “So good f’me.”

“You like that?” you breathe as you gaze down on him, and he nods vigorously. You smirk and place your hands down on his rock hard stomach to help you for your next move. “Then I think you’ll like this.”

As you roll back to the center position, you start to push up on your knees, slowly bouncing on his length. You moan louder as you feel the drag on his cock against your velvety walls, feeling how he almost falls out of you before you sink back down.

Matt looks like a mess, for a lack of a better word. A deep pink, nearly red flush all over his skin as he starts to sweat, desperately trying to focus and hold on. He swallows hard, and you can see his Adam’s Apple bob.

“Matt,” you hum.

“Don’t stop,” he pants, the muscle in his jaw feathering. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. I’m . . . ‘M close.”

Your rhythm slows as you lean down on top of him and kiss him deeply. Matt’s arms wrap around you and pull you close, rolling you on the mattress so he’s on top. As his lips stay on yours, you can tell he’s trying to control his hips to prolong our activity.

“Matty,” you pant. “Matty, harder. I want you to cum for me. I want to feel you cum in me.”

He’s a groaning, blubbering mess as his hips start to ram into you, a very distinct wet sound along with that of slapping skin filling the bedroom walls. The mattress squeaks while the headboard hits the frosted glass behind the bed, and you can’t help how your fingernails claw angry red lines down his back. Your knees hook onto his hips, creating a deeper angle—once his hits the very back of you, you moan and scream out as your body trembles in pleasure as Matt does the same. Matt groans, punctuated thrusts of his hips moving to get himself as deep as possible in you as he unravels and you feel is hot cum fill you up.

Matt holds you in his arms, both of your bodies covered in sweat as your breathing starts to even out. You close your eyes, swallowing hard as you stroke his hair, getting lost in his hold. Matt just hums, his lips kissing wherever they can find purchase.

“I can last longer than that, I swear,” he breathes, and you both chuckle.

“You don’t need to worry, Matt,” you smile, your fingers trailing down the line of his back. “I’ve left you high and dry for about a year and a half.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.”

“Us making out and and sometimes grinding against one another on the couch after too many drinks isn’t the same as what we just did, nor is you having a wet dream when we’re asleep.”

“No, they’re not,” he smiles. “But you’ve always given me everything I needed.”

Matt presses a long kiss to your lips before he sits up on his knees, continually kissing your knuckles.

“I’m going to be back with a towel for you, okay?” he breathes, kissing at your fingertips.

“Stay,” you ask. “Stay here in bed with me.”

“I should clean you up.”

“Please, Matty?” You give him a puppy dog pout, knowing that even though he can’t see it, he sure as hell can sense it.

“Fine. This time.”

You smile as you slowly pull him toward you, his lips meeting yours before he lays down next to you and you curl into his chest.

“Matt?” you start softly, a voice growing in your head louder and louder until you can’t ignore it any longer.

“Yeah, angel?” he responds, his voice gravely.

“Was . . . Was it worth the wait?”

He turns his face toward you with the sweetest smile on his lips. “It was more than I could’ve hope for.” He brushes some hair off your forehead. “Do you think it was worth the wait?”

Your fingertips trail down his chest, drawing little patterns on his skin as you look at him. “I do. I do. It felt right. Extra special.” You cringe and chuckle.

“What?” Matt smiles.

“I sounded so sappy and old-fashioned!” you laugh, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“You’re not wrong, though. It was amazing. And I can always say that the first time I was with you, it was on the happiest day of my life.”

“Now you sound sappy and old-fashioned.”

You chuckle together, and you hum in delight when you feel his lips press a prolonged kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” you murmur back, the sleep starting to settle into your body. “Can I let you in on a little secret, Matty?”

“Of course. That’s what husbands are for.”

You smile from ear to ear as he kisses your forehead.

“I’ve got about twenty of little sets like that. And that’s not including slips and other things. I mean, you’ve felt the slips before. I’ve been building up a little stock since we got engaged.”

Matt hums, running a hand up and down your back. “Then it’s a good thing we’re home all week for our honeymoon so we can cycle through those outfits. And I promise, you’ll see just how long I can last.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987 @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

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druidx · 17 days ago

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Silverhooks and Strongmount Districts

Silverhooks and Strongmount are two twin districts in the outer ring of Toreguard which butt up against the West Canal Trunk.

This makes both districts strongly predisposed to the movement of goods. However, wealth in Toreguard tends to travel from the inside out. So while Strongmount deals with prime goods, Silverhooks deals with more basic ones. Both districts also have shipwrights available - however, traveler beware, one is more likely to be swindled West of Shiverstaff Bridge...

In particular, Silverhooks has developed into a hub for fishers, gutters, net and line makers, and other sundry associated industries. The fish are either river-caught, or are transported from Navale, on the coast, using magical freezing techniques. While there are many fish markets scattered around the district, the majority of the fish prepared here is taken by barge into the center rings of the city.

Due to these industries, one can also find several small chapels and temples in this district dedicated variously to:

Solinthar - Patron of Mariners,

Hydana - God of All Waters,

Aqualis - God of Rivers,

Deep Sashelas - God of the Oceans,

Sukh - God of Storms,

Ichthys - God of Fish and Lord of Sea Creatures

Silverhooks, partly due to its high population density being squished against the outer city wall, also has a rather unsavory reputation. Buildings are shabbier, certainly, but the people being rougher is no more true than any other district of the city where wages are low and the cost of living high.

Strongmount, by comparison, is far better off. The homes are larger, all buildings have better upkeep and are less packed. This is mostly to do with the presence of several large merchant complexes, owned by influential families, which can be found on both banks of the Strongmount Canal. These merchants deal with higher priced goods far in excess of what a labourer of either district could normally afford. They bring the goods in, sort, then redistribute either via the main trunk, or overland through the Western Inner Gate (out of frame for this map).

The secondary reason for the lower density in Strongmount is the influence of an Elven commune. It is no secret that Elves revere nature and have brought several 'isles of green' into Toreguarde. One such is this commune, a long strip of green all along eastern edge of the district, against the inner wall. While it may seem just as cramped as it's twin in Silverhooks, this is majoritively down to the presence of trees and bushes which scatter the area.

While the commune itself stretches the length of the inner wall, it starts by the waters edge, where devotees of Yondalla - sometimes revered as the separate goddesses Iatro, of healing, & Usrel, of peace, - grew Her church. The clerics here are well known throughout Toreguarde as the best healers and midwives. While this reputation allows them to charge much higher than the going rate for their services, rumour has it they will never turn away a sick child. In addition to the healers in the church, there are many apothecaries and herbalists in the Eleven commune who also ply their trade, often for a much smaller sum.

#meta writing #FF headcanon #fighting fantasy #titan fighting fantasy #meta wandering words #Can I just say - Titan has a fuck-off huge pantheon. and then we combined it with D&D3e. There are so many deities y'all #I ponied up the cash to buy the pro version of inkarnate for a year. I'm glad I did because the maps now look way better #even if tumblr has compressed it so it looks iffy :(

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sunriseverse · 5 months ago

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(busts through the wall) DID SOMEBODY ASK FOR DMBJ PROMPTS??

i want something sunrise but i want it to be dumb/silly. i know it's a serious au but it's about three fools so it should still be possible.

okay you said something silly. and i THINK "xiaoge who literally purrs" counts, but. i couldn't help but get feelings in it </3 wu xie's pov because i realised i'd done xiaoge AND pangzi's pov for sunrise but not wu xie's yet. (also this got LONG i am so sorry..........)

The first thing they do after they get Xiaoge back from that fucking rift in Changbaishan is fall into a tangle of limbs and sleep for ten hours straight.

Well, no. The first thing they do is bundle Xiaoge, who has somehow in the last decade lost the thick, fur-lined coat he’d been in when he and Wu Xie had come up here that last time, into a thick, heavy, coat that smells faintly of smoke, which had been shoved into one of the saddlebags to make it take up as little space as possible. The second thing they do is herd Xiaoge, who looks less and less distant and dazed as the moments pass, in front of a fire and ply him with the best food they can offer, here, so far from any city and proper kitchen amenities. The falling into a pile and sleeping for what feels like glorious, golden days is closer to the fifth or sixth thing that they do, but Wu Xie sort of loses track somewhere along the way, because Xiaoge’s presence, an absence rent into the very core of his being, of the world, for so, so long, is intoxicating, and Wu Xie keeps losing track of his thoughts.

“Tianzhen,” Pangzi says, knee knocking against his, warmer than the crackling fire between them, and doesn’t say anything more; just tilts his head towards Xiaoge, who’s half-buried in the voluminous folds of the coat they’d foisted on him. It makes Wu Xie’s throat lock, tight and painful, the way that, even now, after so long spent keeping him at arms length, Pangzi is still the man he loves; still one of two people who understand him in a way no other does, in a way that renders spoken communication unnecessary. With a shuddering sigh, Wu Xie lets his eyes slip closed. The threads between them—ones that Wu Xie had feared, for the past few years, would snap and break; leave Xiaoge stranded to a world Wu Xie couldn’t even imagine, to die with a mind slowly bending, breaking, shattering; leave Pangzi, one day, to snap to the horrifying awareness of it, of that break, of the bond between them, carefully nurtured, built on an aching, all-pervasive trust, not only fraying, but rent apart because of Wu Xie’s carelessness, because Wu Xie hadn’t been careful enough to keep it alive—flicker at the back of his mind. Glow, nearly, with an indescribable incandescence, a pulsing sense of warmth, of home.

He spent long enough unable to see a way past the end of things, of a life beyond the plan; now, it’s time for him to try and make things right. He opens his eyes and smiles at Pangzi; lets his hand settle on his knee, and, for a moment, squeezes, just to let him know he’s there. And then, raising his voice, he says, “Ah, Xiaoge, come here. You’re going to freeze like that.”

Xiaoge blinks, slow. As if he hadn’t even realised he’d been sitting so far away. Then, gangly figure uncurling, he crosses the too-large distance—small as it is in reality—, and Wu Xie shifts to leave space between himself and Pangzi for Xiaoge to slot into. He does—easily, as if he’d never forgotten how; as if he’s coming home. The glance Wu Xie gets out of the side of his vision shows him Pangzi’s eyes are just as misty as his.

So, no; sleeping together isn’t the first thing they do, technically. But it’s important enough that it feels like it.

The bedrolls they’d brought along are the type that can be combined together; Wu Xie does so while Pangzi tells Xiaoge about the terrible snowstorm they’d had to brave through on the way there, replete with taking care of a snow-blind Wu Xie in the cave they’d taken shelter in. “Our Tianzhen,” he says, with a smile and a shake of his head. “Terrible luck.” It makes Xiaoge smile, small and barely-there, and the image makes Wu Xie’s lungs burn with something he hasn’t felt in years.

Actually clambering into their makeshift bed is fairly anticlimactic; all of them are too tired to be prickly about space, or limbs, or anything besides curling close to each other. Wu Xie winds up on one side, Pangzi in the middle, and Xiaoge on the other. If this were a real bed, Pangzi would lovingly and dramatically bully Xiaoge into the middle, but a real bed is also safe in a way that being up in the mountains isn’t, and they’re both well-aware of Xiaoge’s vigilance, undulled by time. Well, no—if Wu Xie’s theories about the Hiveside are right, then he might be even more vigilant than he once was. And Wu Xie—he tries not to think too much about why Pangzi let him be on the outside.

The horses, settled down on the other side of the fire, whicker at each other, the sound a subtle hum in the night. Wu Xie lets out a breath, and settles; pillows his head on Pangzi’s chest, slings his arm across to brush fingers across Xiaoge’s side. Under him, Pangzi lets out a muffled laugh, but doesn’t comment. Xiaoge doesn’t sigh, but Wu Xie can feel the tension that bleeds out of him at the combined contact, and he curls inwards, so he’s facing them.

It’s not hard to fall asleep like that; ten years of vigilance are nothing in the face of the warmth and safety trickling down the slowly-widening bond between them. Once, Wu Xie had stood in the boiler room of a great, snaking black train. At the time, he’d been too busy thinking about other things, but right now, all he can remember is the warmth—and the heat of it pales in comparison to this, tenfold.

Some time later, he slowly swims to consciousness in the dawn light, pale, the world around them tinted a dilute blue. Under his head, Pangzi’s chest rises and falls, a slight wheezing snore drifting from his open mouth. Wu Xie’s own lips are wet with the beginnings of drool, and he reaches a clumsy hand to wipe the traces of it away. There’s a low, steady rumble that permeates the air, and his eyes snap open, his body already moving as his mind hurtles, full-speed, across a plan to get them all out of here, away from the impending avalanche—and then he catches sight of Xiaoge, long limbs pulled up and curled against Pangzi’s side, only one, slitted eye visible through the fringe of his hair, and he realises the sound is coming from him.

Pangzi, disturbed by the sudden scramble, cracks his eyes open and lets out a grumbling complaint. “Aiya, Tianzhen, you’re letting the cold in. Get back here, will you? You’re going to freeze our poor Xiaoge.”

Wu Xie blinks a couple times. “Right,” he says, hasty and belated, and gets back under the covers, only for Pangzi to drag him closer so he’s practically laying on top of him. “Hey!”

“Maybe that’ll teach you to move less,” Pangzi says, softly vindictive, and then yawns, eyes scrunching up. “...Xiaoge, is that you?” He drags Xiaoge closer, and the rumbling increases, both in intensity and pitch. The sound goes a little hitching as Xiaoge’s head lands on Pangzi’s chest, a mere hairsbreadth away from Wu Xie’s own. His eyes, no longer narrow, flash in the low-light. The rumbling is loud enough Wu Xie can feel it in his bones.

“Mn,” Xiaoge says, the sound overlaid over the rumbling.

It takes a moment for Wu Xie to sift through his still sleep-addled thoughts to process it. “Are you...purring?” he manages, eventually, and reaches out a clumsy hand to press against Xiaoge’s chest. It rises and falls beneath his touch, rattling. “Since when can you do that?”

Xiaoge blinks at him. “Always,” he says, as if it should be obvious. Pangzi, beneath them, chokes on a laugh.

“Oh.” Wu Xie processes the words, blinking a few times. “Then why did you never...”

Xiaoge shrugs. “Forgot,” he says, the words quiet, and Wu Xie’s throat tightens. Under them, Pangzi stills, a quiet sigh slipping out. His hand comes up to card through Xiaoge’s hair, and Xiaoge’s eyes slip closed.

“Like a cat,” Pangzi says, fond and amused, after a long moment. Xiaoge doesn’t open his eyes, apparently content with the designation. Wu Xie’s lips twitch. “Who knew our Xiaoge’r was so cute.”

Xiaoge, clearly unbothered by the comment, keeps purring. Wu Xie’s mind is far too sleeplogged to figure out how the fuck that even works—is it a mechanical process that just sounds like purring? Is he tapping into the tech that lines his body? Is it instinctual? On purpose?

“Your thoughts are too loud,” comes Xiaoge’s quiet voice. “Go to sleep.”

Wu Xie, for once obedient, surrenders. Surrounded by the warmth of the men he loves, he slips back into sleep.

#dmbj #wu xie #wang pangzi #zhang qiling #pingpangxie #xiaoge #pangzi #tiesanjiao #fanfic #ask #boog <3 #WOE. FANFIC ON YE.#spinecorset writes #sunrise verse #c.txt

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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months ago

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Avital Norman Nathman at Rewire:

Within hours of Vice President Kamala Harris’ announcement that she had chosen Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz as her running mate, Donald Trump’s followers mockingly dubbed him “Tampon Tim.” Named for a recent Minnesota law that provides free menstrual products in public schools, the opposition took joy in deriding a man who signed a bill that addresses a very real public health need. I can’t be the only one who has had to stuff scratchy, one-ply toilet paper in my underwear after an ill-timed or unexpected period while in school. In fact, I know there are others like me, because as a teen, not a month went by without a friend asking if I had a spare pad or tampon.

In the days after the Tampon Tim moniker gained momentum, many friends shared their own stories of menstrual malfunctions and humiliations, where access to free supplies would have been a lifesaver. According to Alliance for Period Supplies, which leads a national network of more than 140 independent, community-based nonprofits working to end period poverty, 86 percent of people who menstruate have started their period unexpectedly in public. So to find out that Minnesota public schools are now stocking bathrooms to ensure that students, teachers, and staff have the supplies they need? I don’t think it’s shameful in the least. It’s exemplary.

However, conservatives took a cursory look at the law and decided to run with the sensationalized spin that Walz was forcing fourth-grade boys to have tampons in their bathrooms. Grasping to find some way to sell this to their base, they infused a “trans panic” on the public health policy that states Minnesota public schools “must provide students with access to menstrual products at no charge. The products must be available to all menstruating students in restrooms regularly used by students in grades 4 to 12 according to a plan developed by the school district.” The language actually provides schools with flexibility, and nobody is being forced to use any products.

[...]

The shock and outrage over boys as young as 10 coming across a pad or tampon while at school is just a smokescreen for transphobia—because yes, there are most likely nonbinary or trans students, staff, and faculty who now really appreciate having access to health-care products they require. And perhaps, some schools will provide products in their boys’ restrooms, but as the mother of a teen son who “bravely” uses the bathroom in our home with unfettered access to tampons and pads of various sizes, I can tell you that the boys will be alright. Worst-case scenario, these young dudes get some free toys to play with. But best-case scenario, they grow up thinking of pads and tampons as boring and normal—because they are.

In our house, menstrual products aren’t dirty, gross, or shameful, just items needed on occasion. When I asked my son if he had heard of the Tampon Tim nickname, he thought it had actually come from the Harris camp as a positive endorsement, and laughed at the thought of anyone using it to ridicule someone.

[...]

Minnesota is not alone. The state joins Hawaii, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Maryland, New Jersey, New Mexico, Ohio, and Oregon in providing state-funded, free period products in public schools. Ten other states, along with Washington, D.C., require free products to be available in public schools despite not offering funding, and eight other states (including conservative-leaning ones like Alabama, Arizona, and Georgia) have no state mandates, but do provide funding for schools that want to offer free products. So while online critics may be attempting to attack Walz, more than 50 percent of states are tackling this public health need.

Why are the right obsessed with lobbing tampon attacks against Tim Walz? Their campaign against menstrual equity is part of their campaign of reinforcing traditional gender roles.

#Tim Walz #Tampons #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Menstrual Equity #Periods #Menstruation

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terrence-silver · 1 year ago

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Terry meeting readers family for the first time please

---

If Terry brought you home, oh, some fifteen years ago to meet his family or his father, freshly out of his green military fatigues, while not agreeing with Terry's choice of partner (then again, there were few would would've pleased the draconic old man in the first place, if any) he would've still had this contradictive notion that you, irregardless of your unsuitability, are begrudgingly something Terry was innately owed to have if you were what he wanted. Having served his country, having wasted precious time in Vietnam away from the family company and all affairs of their household, the way his old man saw it --- having sat in the drudgery and danger of captivity in some backwater jungle dump, risking life and limb when he could've been taking over the firm --- the least life could do as direct payback is give his boy whatever the heck his boy wanted and then some, even if he could've done much better for himself. Such was Silver Sr. All unimaginable contrasts and oxymorons. All 'you owe me this, I'm cashing in on that.' All capital and reparations. The true originator of the words Terry often repeated; Nothing's for free. This is a notion he carries with himself, into the venue of the fateful meeting --- He is entitled to everything he wants. He's entitled to you. Your folks. The family cat and dog.

The white picket fence of your own bubble of suburbia, if he so pleases.

He pleases. He does.

And getting everyone to not just like him --- no --- adore him --- is child's play right off the bat. The vintage sport's car parked out front, a deliberate signal and indicator he could take care of you bound to soften your mother, all mothers, who deep down want a good, secure life for their child as he kisses her hand, ever the gentleman, handing her a bouquet of flowers, peppering her with some softcore wooing she undoubtedly hasn't received from anyone in years. A flex of muscles for you father; a way to impress, conquer, establish himself as the prime shark in the pond as they talk fishing...fishing at Lake Tahoe, at Terry's private vacation resort. One of many. Humbly. He promises your uncle work. Your aunt a trip to the Bahamas at an exclusive thermal hot spring five star hotel to cure her swollen bunions --- offers to help your mom in the kitchen several times (which she, for as much as she was flattered, refuses) and fuck, if he has to promise the next door neighbors a harem of bare ass Hawaiian masseuse girls, then so be it. But, Terry's out to claim and win, and it doesn't take him more than ten minutes (and he does count down the time in his head, having made a bet with himself) before the dining table is set for him like the center of the universe and your whole family is crowded around him, listening to him intently, like some many curious children, plying him with food and drink, smothering him.

He was owed this.

He was owed much, much more.

He was owned a cushion under his feet and your mother actually, disbelief of all disbelief's, places one there for him because she is convinced the wooden parquet of the living room will be cold for him, in spite of the fact he was already given a pair of house slippers, right after serving him with another slice of her signature pie as an appetizer before the main course, beaming after he declared that he might have a Michelin star chef in his employ, but the lovely hostesses' level of cooking by far outmatches it and pretty much everything he's ever tried.

You shoot him a speculative, silent stare.

What?

They all loved him.

Almost like you knew that by the end of the evening, your family will practically offer you to him, like a gift. Insist that he accept you, in spite of the saccharine efforts to win them over, which clearly, weren't quite as tacky as they seemed if they were working. Tell you that you brought home a really good one this time around. That you brought home the best one this time around, in fact. Terry knew that you knew. Not that he thought you were trying to escape him, but taking precautions never hurt anyone. There would be no escape. Not when your family would think the worst of you for it.

That you're fickle.

An ingrate.

He, the one who got away.

-"Another slice?"-

Your mother asks and like melted butter, he smears her with flattery.

She too, in a sense, belonged to him. He could flatter her all he liked.

-"Not if you wanna have my cook back home fired, ma'am."-

Terry wipes his lips with a handkerchief and the older woman erupts into a fit of giggles as she shakes her hand, semi-dismissively, semi-playfully towards him, only for you to fidget by his side, interjecting, like he figured you would. -"You know, mom, it was a beautiful evening, but we really should be going. It's a long drive out to Glendower Avenue and our chauffeur is waiting in the car."- You announce and the sudden stiffness at the table is deafening. Bullseye. Your own family gives you a death glare that nearly makes him chortle --- he tactically suggested Charles, the driver, be invited in for drinks to make himself seem egalitarian, and your family. with humanitarian efforts like that, liked him so much throughout the duration of some thirty minutes or so that the very prospect of being prematurely parted from him was a cause for agitation. It's like you just broke the news that Santa Claus wasn't real or something. Truth of the matter was, Charles was perfectly equipped with everything he needed in the vehicle, but, oh, what a ploy. -"Going? But you only just got here."- Your father grumbles, setting down his fork, giving you a long, hard look of disapproval, clearly won over by those Lake Tahoe stories. Your own old man, doing all of Terry's work for him. Perfect. Your own mother too. -"Yeah, you only just got here! Seriously!"- She adds, shaking her head, salad bowl in hand, verbally cornering you. You only just got here and we haven't even made arrangements for your wedding yet, Terry imagines her saying, even though, by the way things were going, he predicted he wouldn't have to do much imagining. Instead, he plays into it, and he plays clueless too.

All of this?

It was an investment.

An investment to having you by his side.

Ensuring you stay there with every hook he attaches into you.

One of those hooks could be your own flesh and blood.

-"We really only just got here."-

He turns to you, acting the role of a sympathetic suck up, repeating your parents' words back you, and then tension at the table instantly lifts when they all start nodding their heads at his statement and muttering, like they thought him the sensible, mature party. They love me. I'm owed that shit. Terry thinks again, reaching over for you hand and squeezing it atop of the dining table for reassurance, feeling your skin drenched in cold sweat. They'll love me so much they'll ensure you and me are and remain a sure thing.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; lovebombing #tw; manipulation #tw; meeting the parents

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