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dovveri · 5 months ago

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strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

#momo #twice momo #hirai momo #momo x reader #twice momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #momo smut #twice momo smut #hirai momo smut #twice x reader #twice imagines #momo imagines #twice smut #dovveri

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klemen-tine · 1 year ago

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Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again.

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them.

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway.

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut.

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit.

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd.

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear.

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?”

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.”

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face.

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully.

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece.

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble.

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting.

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over.

“Did you see them?”

“See who?”

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?”

‘You’re not his type.’ Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it.

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face.

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule.

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway.

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up.

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax.

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes.

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home.

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them.

“Tim…”

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?”

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.”

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.”

“Y/N–”

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!”

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week.

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-”

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face.

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours.

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not.

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful.

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred.

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them.

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them.

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying.

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-”

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.”

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him. Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own.

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself.

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred.

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle.

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes.

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued.

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–”

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his.

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice.

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money.

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him.

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of.

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian….

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left.

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family.

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads.

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage.

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used.

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes.

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo.

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’ Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines.

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair.

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves.

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?”

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this!

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there.

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt.

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it?

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?”

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.”

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?”

“I did. So we can talk freely.”

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.”

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it.

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu.

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.”

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live.

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this.

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.”

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.”

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains.

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app.

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game.

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs.

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway.

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on.

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest.

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item.

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.”

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach.

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor.

Not worthy of anything.

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her.

“Thank you.”

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder.

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral.

Just how Batman does.

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified?

“You did great Y/N!”

“Looking beautiful Y/N.”

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!”

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils.

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work.

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.”

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause.

“...What?”

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all.

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne.

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes.

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.”

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.”

“At least let them change, Dick.”

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that it is snowing outside.”

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms.

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call–

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today.

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?”

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet.

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them.

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run.

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #stalking

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sapphosclosefriend · 1 year ago

Text

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

Part 2

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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oceansoul001 · 1 month ago

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After 170 hours I've finished Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 and I cannot even start to describe this emptiness I'm feeling now, knowing that there is no more of this great story waiting for me to experience (at least for now). What a wild ride it was and what a surprisingly amazing game, with all the twists and turns of the plot, all the memorable characters that I deeply cared about and rooted for, all the emotions of Henry's journey and all the thoughts about war, revenge, duty, and finally making peace with the past and moving on. The emotional spectrum of the game is astounding - it can so flawlessly switch between being extremely funny or delightfully absurd to being heartbreaking or devastating in the heaviest moments. But as the game’s content is so dense and rich, that writing down all my thoughts would require a whole book, or at least a dissertation, I would like to specifically touch upon one, nomen omen touchy subject. The Henry-Hans romance.

I'm not sure if it is possible yet, but I would also like to skip over all the controversy-driven discussions regarding this romantic subplot, clearly lead in bad faith and mostly by people not even engaging with the game, and be able to talk about this topic and analyze it as it is, without questioning its right to even exist in the game. Why do I focus on this quite small and optional aspect of the game at all? Well, I’m not gonna lie – I always find the RPGs with possible romances more engaging and captivating, as love – as a general emotion, with different shades of it – is in my eyes one of the crucial aspect of any hero. So if we are already talking about the love towards parents or other family members, patriotic love for your country, or king, platonic love between friends and comrades, and then all of a sudden omit only the romantic love, something is not adding up for me. If you want to give me a rich RPG experience, give me at least one good romance option, and I’m sold. But it is not easy at all, especially the “good” part.

But as KCD2 is a very unique game when it comes to its different aspects – like the demanding, slow-paced gameplay, or the unique blend of open-world with more contained main plot missions – it is also very unique when it comes to the romance options, or, let me say it aloud – when it comes to THE main romance option, the most integral romance option, the most naturally developing romance option in the game. The Henry-Hans (optional) romance that we can observe growing very slowly throughout this 100+ hours, is for me one of the best and most meaningful depictions of love in any RPG with player's agency. This relation, even if you opt out of romance, simply has it all - is intertwined with the plot, is rooted in character development and has the possibility to depict characters together during many different situations throughout the whole game. And this is how a good romanceable character should be written in a video game – as an independent character first and foremost, NOT as a character that was created with a sole purpose to serve as said romance option. In this case Hans ALWAYS plays a meaningful part in the story, and ALWAYS shares an important bond with your Henry, regardless of player's decision whether to engage with the romance or not. But many other games seem to forget about that, or don’t manage to create the bond between characters first, before the option to romance them appears.

And then comes the hard to describe aspect of THE FEELS. The slow development of this relation, the steady growth of feelings, up to the point, when you cannot deny it any longer, and when you cannot allow yourself to not act upon them - because of the circumstances, because of this sense of impending doom, that makes all the risks worth taking, as any of you might anyway be dead the next day. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat, remember? The risk that Hans takes in the decisive moment of this relation is THE epitome of his saying, and I don’t believe it is a coincidence when it suits so perfectly to the whole theme of the game and to Hans as a character in general. And this bold risk taking is so gut-clenching and heartbreaking, but also heartwarming in this one stolen moment of happiness that seems unreal. Say what you want, but you simply cannot tell this kind of story, invoke this kind of feelings - without first having two equally developed characters, that the player equally cares for and have cared for before any romance possibility was on the horizon. Add to the mix very real external hardships (all good romances need a hardship to overcome!), that due to the time and place make this relation tragically doomed before it even has begun, and there you have it - one of the most compelling romantic stories I have experienced in a video game, hands down.

And please don’t start with medieval this, medieval that, before you stop and think about greatest medieval love stories (that we know of) – these are always stories of impossible love, of doomed love, of forbidden love. Of two people, that cannot and should not be together because of the class they belong to, because of the promises made, because of duty, because of sin and religion dogma. Don’t tell me you cannot see the comparison between Henry and Hans, and, say, Tristan and Isolde, THE number one medieval chivalric romance couple, where they commit sin against God and betray their King at the same time, every time they are together. Don’t tell me that Henry, who clearly aspires to all the ideals that we associate with knighthood – chivalry, protection of the weak, devotion to land and rightful king, and generally noble idealism, let’s call it – is not the perfect hero of chivalric romance, with Hans being of course his damsel-princess, way above his league, already promised to another and soon to be in a loveless, political marriage, spending parts of the game either captured in some tower or stuck in some castle, having to wait for his knight to safely return to him. It is all there, I am sure not accidentally, and it fits all the themes and motifs known from both actual medieval literature and their pop culture representation SO WELL if you think about it for a second.

And there's one more component that elevates this particular relation to S-tier for me. You can have superb writing, you can direct the most impressive cutscene, you can have the build-up ready - all of these won't matter and won't work if the actors don't sell you the romantic feelings in the key moment. Which I assume is not easy, when for the most part you play other aspects of these characters and probably were not cast with this specific plot point in mind. But here comes Luke Dale, showing us the side of Hans Capon that we have not seen before, with the most heart-wrenching expression of his fears, with voice breaking at the exactly right moment, the trembling, the anger, the despair, but also the tiniest bit of hope - and in just two broken sentences he conveys it all, and it's all so bloody real. It's a masterwork, and I'm so happy that I could witness it in game, even more - become part of this relationship as the playable character himself.

I sincerely hope that the end of the main game is not the end of this subplot, as there is still so, so, so much more to explore with these characters in these circumstances. And their relation is so unique, comparing to popular fiction in general, but even more so in video games, that it would be a great loss to just leave them be as they are at the end of the game. I cannot wait for the possibility to go through more emotional turmoil with Henry and Hans, probably because I cannot even remember when was the last time I’ve fallen in love with fictional characters so much and so fast, as with these two. And as already said, love is the key.

#kingdom come deliverance #kingdom come deliverance 2 #kingdom come deliverance 2 spoilers #kcd2 spoilers #kcd #kcd2 #henry of skalitz #hans capon #henry x hans #hansry

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court-jobi · 6 months ago

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Tagalong

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @toshiimura))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (retired by injury pro-hero fem!reader)

Words: 2.6K

Rating: T (18+ touches later on, to be safe~)

Warnings: Interrupted first time, heavy petting, established relationship, sharing a bed, honestly just Izuku in love and fluffy times commence in a hotel room.

Summary:

Joining Midoriya Sensei on his work trip -and yes, even sharing a bed for the first time- is medicine for you. The exchange of your passions has -and continues to be- an endless source of healing as you navigate life post-hero work. Each night away, you've danced into a settled calm with him; learning the rhythm of his habits. His sounds, his silences. When Izuku meets your gaze in the mirror, you read his mind loud and clear in how he emotes: he fawns, he sighs, then nods in the dearest way.

A/N: give me my sweet, simpering Deku, or give me death. Also by the way, yall are the best readers out there, thank you so much for all the love for my lil stories!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Life post-hero work was an adjustment for you… but you were starting to really get into the perks.

The lack of daily physical hardship holds the top spot on your list. PT? You can handle that on a rolling basis– the worst is behind you, and due to what you put yourself through which resulted in your injury, you’re out of official hero work for the foreseeable future- and in a way, grateful for the break on your muscles. You still retain your quirk, but can enjoy its thrills on a more recreational basis– your sweet boyfriend has even helped your healing by way of gentle exercises to keep things moving properly and get life manageable for you.

Next would be the diet. You could certainly dip back into your baking hobby guilt-free now. You couldn’t get away from the hero world entirely -nor did you want to… but being able to settle into an agency office with an hourly job was also an incredible blessing. Late nights here and there were inevitable, but on the whole, you were able to greet and end your days with a steadiness of routine and safety.

Meeting Izuku Midoriya was the icing on your early retirement cake. Where you were tenderly finding your footing off the hero charts, Izuku held your hand to keep you upright. He didn’t lead or pull back on you– just came alongside you, so you didn’t fall too hard on the knees of self-doubt. He’s always so good like that. He knows your path because he himself shares it, and what a thing of fate that is.

New to you now though, is the general scope of free time you have. Not a forced flexibility due to the demand asked of an on-call hero, but you have paid time off. You have flex hours. You can work from home, if you so choose– so when you get the call that Izuku has been asked to hold a spot at the Sports Festival as the lead commentator, you are over the moon that you can answer with a wholehearted ‘yes’ when he asks you to come with him.

As if he’d be anything short of ecstatic, you truly believe the job was made for him. He’s got books upon books of hero research written by hand, and is essentially a walking Brittanica for Japan’s up and coming heroes, because of course he watches every other school’s sports fests in his free time so that his class can be the most prepared. Taking the role Present Mic once held when he was a student is a full-circle moment, and it's pretty precious seeing him in it.

From day one, he’s a master of his craft, and from the couch you share in the observation deck with his co-teacher, Aizawa, you’re beyond impressed. You honestly wouldn’t be able to tell what department he was aligned with; he’s observant and complimentary of every students’ moves. You asked the pro hero hero beside you if this was the case when Izuku was younger, and he merely offered a sleepy,

“Intolerably, yes.”

But you see the lift of his cheek against his eyepatch and know that he’s secretly proud.

The Sports Festival spreads over the course of a week now, as the culture surrounding the events available for support students to engage in has increased- to Izuku’s pride and joy. The training and feats of the heroes wouldn’t be possible without the other side of the coin, so he’s just as enthusiastic to hype up the developments of those courses as well.

Watching your sweet Izuku -catching his eye when he looks back over to you and silently ushers you over to come watch an anticipated match-up of his kids off and on- is medicine for you. This entire exchange of passions has, and continues to be, a source of joy for you and is a treasured part of doing life with him. On that note, the event being held away from your district also grants you extended time to spend together that you normally wouldn’t, given the difference in your professional lives. Here, you’re locked in to five days and four nights of perfectly synced time– something you’ve not been able to do up to this point in your relationship.

Falling asleep and waking up together? This is the best thing ever.

On the first night, it hits your adorably flustered boyfriend that you’d indeed be sharing a room- and bed. That arrangement was something you’d registered the moment he’d asked you and were assuming he’d mentally (and spiritually) prepared for; but evidently it faced him the moment he stepped up to the counter to check in that Nezu had arranged you both to be together by default in the hotel block.

But rather than falling on the trope of taking the armchair or sleeping on the ground like a middle school nervous nelly, Izuku was shy about it at first… but eager for the chance. The secret part of him finally let out some boyish excitement to find a bed big enough for you to actually share. You’d learned here that you both can spoon like you do on the couch, but you have so much room now. On both your parts, you’re a bit giggly and stiff at first- but settle in sweetly for the most comfortable night of your life.

By the second night, you both scoot into your room and -after a day of dancing around each other at more and more events- you’d be heard from the hallway: jumping into his arms and tackling him to the bed, filled with giggles and lots of kissing until you tangle up more willingly to sleep.

Night three, you’d both stayed out longer than you intended; catching up with some of the other instructors, which turned into essentially a repeat of the night you met. You take to talking up a storm on one of the hotel patios in a nerdy exchange of info-dumping and story-swapping that continues for almost three hours. You basically collapsed into bed the instant you got back, not even brushing your teeth out of exhaustion. Then by your fourth, you both are still so tired from the late night before and you flop on the bed, still in the sun-warmed clothes you set out in that morning.

It's so nice to be held by him- and it's torture to then look back up at each other. There’s definitely a softness found in Izuku’s face -as always, when it comes to your perfectly freckled sweetheart- but also something deep and personal. You want to ask him to shower together so badly and get rid of the day together- anything to add to this closeness you’ve been tiptoe-ing through all week. Worry over pushing him when he’s essentially on the clock keeps you from asking. This time, you still go about your rituals separately, only when you get out, you stay in a towel and shorts instead of full dressing down for bed.

When you're at the in-suite mirror doing your expedited, travel-sized skincare routine and Izuku stops by after he's out of the bathroom, he hesitates mid-step from trying to duck around you– and comes close, holds you by the middle. He stands shirtless behind you for the first time, showing you the scarring he carries in its fullest- no more tanks or undershirts hiding the worst from you.

You’re as they say in the movies- incandescently happy.

“You smell so good,” he whispers.

“You feel so good,” you answer. “Wanna go lay down?”

When Izuku meets your gaze in the mirror, you read his mind loud and clear in how he emotes: he fawns, he sighs, then nods in the dearest way. No sense in holding this darn towel up anymore, you simply turn in his arms, drop it, and kiss his surprise away with your reach up to his neck for a kiss. Your first of many, on this last night you could be wrapped up in your incredible boyfriend's arms with nothing but tender intentions on your mind.

Neither of you see a strong need for too many clothes under the sheets for this little foray into skin-to-skin contact, and enjoy a restorative makeout session. He's marked you up a bit, too, by all the harsh kissing he tends to do towards you (you low-key love this, since ‘that’s what makeup’s for’), and you especially appreciate how he plays with you perched in this arrangement.

You’re the first girl he's ever had topless in his reach– which is obvious from how he holds you in his lap nuzzling at your chest,

"Wow, y'r the moss'beautiful woman i'vever seen~"

From your previous talks of dalliances, you proudly keen over him, "I think I'm the only naked woman you've ever seen."

"-I've seen naked women."

You glance back to him, humored but flat, "Who."

Those green doe eyes flicker back up at you, oddly innocent as he quickly names his former classmate, who you’ve commonly heard referred to as Yaomomo,

“Creati?” he tries to jog your memory, “i-it's part of her quirk, I didn't ev’r mean to look..."

Playfully suspicious, you test him, "Never had a feel?"

"I mean,” Izuku sharpens up a little to answer clearly, “She fell on me once, over in one of the training centers- and I wasn't gonna let her hit or head on something.."

"So a 'strategic catch'. Is that what we're calling it?" You sway your chest in front of him, feeling up his own, “I’m a horribly jealous creature, as you well know.”

He sinks and nuzzles gently at your pushed up chest- by his desire for lift. You’re playing with his painfully polite nature, of course- nothing but secure of your place with him.

"Not even once. Promise."

Izuku lays a little kiss on your freshly cleaned skin where your heart lies under the surface, and ends up moaning at how soft it is- and so, keeps peppering kisses to your delight, "Oh wow... Oh wow, you're soft."

His name leaves you in an unsteady sigh as you’ve been scratching through his hair until it starts feeling so sharp and heady that you grip onto his neck in need of more support.

He's working on some passes with his tongue around your nipple when he whisper-sighs up to you,

"mmmm don't stop doing tha'..."

So you play with his hair at his request, and he adores every bit of you that’s in reach: chin to cheek to neck while being the most gently vocal you've ever heard him.

The minute you rolled your barely clothed hips up on his lap just once, he split his attention from holding your waist to him to smoothing over your thigh to encourage the movement.

He started a slinking lean as he did so, losing his absolute mind watching you in a daze, before something dull hit your window - followed by a kid’s call of 'Sorry!!' . You siphon all your attention at the noise in a wide-eyed look that matches his.

Sweetly enough, you noted how fast Izuku held you at the sound, like he was going into strict ‘protect’ mode at the clash of a frisbee.

But, out of danger and out of breath, Izuku simply fell back and palmed his face.

"ughhbyou feel'so good... Mdizzy."

The heat you’d felt simmering in you has died at the interruption, but your fondness sure hasn’t.

You giggled, lowering into his chest and gripping the covers over your shoulders to warm you up, "Good dizzy?"

Even with an arm over his eye, your boy chuckled brilliantly,

"Very good dizzy, hon’. Whew. We uh– we better stop before they start bangin’ on the door next."

You carded through his hair more, self-assured he was still just as taken by you despite the hard stop. How he kept you to him while shuffling the covers over you both was proof he didn’t want you going anywhere. Once settled, he felt he could focus again and brushed your hair back for attention,

"Hi there, handsome~"

"h-hi~" Izuku echoed.

You kissed again, a good deal calmer at first, but growing like a steady fire. Lips roaming, claiming, and keeping you ever closer. Comfort and reclaimed eagerness tipped you over by his strong guiding hand, all in favor to continue to mouth along your clavicle again.

Then, at the first sound of your addictive moans, he detached- forehead to your sternum, watching the rise and fall of your sweet belly beneath him.

"Ahh..” Izuku’s little war with himself was adorable, “w-we should stop. For real. I can’t- that’d be mean."

“You said that,” you answer with mirth, “but I don’t think ‘Little Deku’ agrees~”

Izuku wheezes out your first, middle, last and retired hero title to the point of coughing before you take it easy on him. Poor, desperate thing, brought low by little tease.

You chuffed against his stroke of nerves kindly.

"Yes we should, if you say so," You snaked a hand through his hair, "Thank the Maker we don't have to second guess the chemistry department, huh?"

Izuku laughed brightly, slotting himself atop you, between the legs so you didn't have to feel how semi-hard he was. Snuggling back down, your heartbeats held their own conversation, content to cool to a reasonable temperature and slow things down, together.

"I'm so glad you came here with me." Izuku spoke softly to your neck, "This time with you really does me so much good."

And you really have enjoyed it. Getting to see firsthand the place where much of his proving of himself started, this event forged a lot of bonds with the close friends he still has to this day.

"I'm glad I did too," You kissed the hairline within reach and simply laid comforting scratches along his back. "It's gonna be hell to go back."

"You don't wanna go back to work?"

You threw pity into your voice, "I don't wanna give up this glorified sleepover, no."

You don’t mean just getting carried away with thin walls and thinner restraint. You mean the intimacy that getting out of town sometimes offers in a way nothing else would. The week has made you softer, more in tune to the rhythm of Izuku’s habits. His sounds, his silences.

The dampened shyness you hold thinking about it floats across him, so he laid back onto your arm to look up at you,

"We don't have to. We can still have them~"

"Yeah?" You wonder how, earnestly, and he smiles in kind.

"Yeah!” his answer radiates nothing but pure sunshine, “Whenever you want! I'll come over, and we'll cook, and have podcast nights and snuggle, and... and.."

He’s got a look now- one that teeters along the line of flirty and unsure.

"Snuggle?" you finish for him mercifully.

"Y-yeah."

"Vocal snuggles?"

"Stop it," Izuku hid in your shoulder, "don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you~" you turned and kissed his blushing cheeks, rubbing his shoulder slowly. "No more than I'm making fun of myself for sounding like a wonton Victorian who just caught sight of an ankle for the first time."

His laughter betrays how offended he is at the idea, "Stoooop…"

"Mmmm, I don't think I will!"

Time to take things slow.. that might top your list now. If it means more nights with your hero draped in your arms, then the promise of time spent under his attention beats out any other remedy you’ve found so far.

#izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #izuku smut #fluff and smut but still

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baby-tini · 9 months ago

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Hellloo:33 so i was thinking dazai and chuuya just sharing reader like how would that go?? :3

I'm not doing bsd requests right now but this has been in my inbox for a while, so... also More poly!SKK. TW- very small hint of implied abuse in paragraph two. Dazai and Chuuya sharing someone would be so chaotic, they would have arguments out the ass about who gets too spend time with you and who gets too have you for the day. Because their schedules are so chaotic, you are alone for a bit, but on average you're with Dazai more often then not because his job isn't as demanding as Chuuyas. Being in this.. relationship does have a multitude of factors though, which are as follows. Whether Dazai is still in the port mafia, if the relationship is poly or if it's just sex and how attached they both are to you. If Dazai is still in the port mafia, the relationship between the three of you would be extremely toxic. There would be constant arguments between them about literally everything. Dazai, in the port mafia, is a lot more sadistic and open with his behaviour, whether that be hitting you or saying the meanest shit, he doesn't care. With Chuuya there though, he'd keep Dazai in line and isn't afraid too get physical with Dazai when he needs too, especially if Dazai puts his hands on you. I personally don't see Chuuya ever laying a hand on you, it doesn't matter if he's pissed or not. if Dazai was in the ADA though, it'd be chaotic but not super toxic. Sure, there'd be arguments but it's mostly just funny banter, they also aren't as likely too get into fights together with Dazai being in the ADA, especially if you're there. Dazai in the agency has calmed down quite significantly and isn't as prone to violence, whether that be towards you or people in general, although he does still instigate things, especially with Chuuya, but it's mostly a healthy, fun relationship. If this is a poly relationship, let me just say, you are the safest person in the world and they'd love you deeply, making sure you're safe, because you are the most important person in the world to them and they put you before everything and everyone. I think a poly relationship with them would be so fun and sweet, there's never a dull moment with Dazai and Chuuya is cannonly the best boyfriend in all of BSD, the definition of dream a man. I feel like you'd live with Chuuya and Dazai would also live there or he'd be at Chuuyas house so much that he basically lives there. It would make more sense too live with Chuuya because his house is definitely bigger and more secure. Also the sex with them would be so fucking good with either of them but both at the same time? It's like euphoria. If it's just for sex, Chuuya would still care about you and would most likely develop a deeper connection with you but Dazai wouldn't really care that much for you, also they would be very reluctant too share you with the other, but if you ask nicely, they'd begrudgingly agree. If they are both attached then they're never letting you go, like, ever. They'd want too constantly spend time you, always buying you gifts and taking you out. They would take such good care of you, especially Chuuya, he'd help make dinner, help with the house work and so on. While Dazai would plan spontaneous dates and coddle you constantly, he's also the one you'd spend the most time with because Chuuyas job is very high maintenance. If it's just Dazai that's attached to you, Chuuya would still wanna spend time with you, but he wouldn't be around as often. If Chuuya was the only one attache to you, which is the most likely case, Dazai would wanna be around mostly too spite Chuuya. Overall, a relationship between you and SKK would be a one and only experience. They would both make amazing boyfriends, despite their individual trauma and problems. They care very deeply about you and are willing too kill or die for you, tear the world down with their bare hands for you. They're both very loyal towards you and keep you spoiled and happy.

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deadpresidents · 4 months ago

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"Somehow disruption doesn't begin to cover it. Upheaval might be closer. Revolution maybe. In less than two weeks since being elected again, Donald J. Trump has embarked on a new campaign to shatter the institutions of Washington as no incoming President has in his lifetime.

He has rolled a giant grenade into the middle of the nation's capital and watched with mischievous glee to see who runs away and who throws themselves on it. Suffice it to say, so far there have been more of the former than the latter. Mr. Trump has said that 'real power' is the ability to engender fear, and he seems to have achieved that.

Mr. Trump's early transition moves amount to a generational stress test for the system. If Republicans bow to his demand to recess the Senate so that he can install appointees without confirmation, it would rewrite the balance of power established by the Founders more than two centuries ago. And if he gets his way on selections for some of the most important posts in government, he would put in place loyalists intent on blowing up the very departments they would lead.

He has chosen a bomb-throwing backbench congressman who has spent his career attacking fellow Republicans and fending off sex-and-drugs allegations to run the same Justice Department that investigated him, though it did not charge him, on suspicion of trafficking underage girls. He has chosen a conspiracy theorist with no medical training who disparages the foundations of conventional health care to run the Department of Health and Human Services.

He has chosen a weekend morning television host with a history of defending convicted war criminals while sporting a Christian Crusader tattoo that has been adopted as a symbol by the far right to run the most powerful armed forces in the history of the world. He has chosen a former congresswoman who has defended Middle East dictators and echoed positions favored by Russia to oversee the nation's intelligence agencies.

Nine years after Mr. Trump began upsetting political norms, it may be easy to underestimate just how extraordinary all of this is. In the past, none of those selections would have passed muster in Washington, where a failure to pay employment taxes for a nanny used to be enough to disqualify a cabinet nominee. Mr. Trump, by contrast, has bulled past the old red lines, opting for nominees who are so provocative that even fellow Republicans wondered whether he is trolling them.

The message to Washington is simple, according to Roger Stone, the longtime Trump friend who relishes his own reputation as a political dirty trickster. 'Things are going to be different,' he said by text."

-- Peter Baker, "Trump Signals a 'Seismic Shift,' Shocking the Washington Establishment,' The New York Times, November 17, 2024.

Here's another incisive article about President-elect Donald Trump's transition and his frightening Cabinet nominees, who are abnormal even for Trump and the personality cult that has been built around him since 2015. For the past quarter-century, Peter Baker has been one of the very best, most level-headed analysts of the contemporary American Presidency, and he seems be stunned by the direction the incoming Trump Administration is already heading. Once again, all of these links are gift links to bypass the New York Times paywall so that you may read and share these important pieces and remain alert to the very real consequences of the 2024 election which are already taking shape.

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month ago

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Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There’s a lot of talk of the “guardrails” failing these days. We see it in the cowardice and capitulation of our legacy media, which is shamelessly self-censoring and even settling bogus defamation cases with Trump to appease him and gain favor.

Big corporations have kissed the Orange One’s ass too, with many of the richest CEOs seated by him at his inauguration, resulting in an abject public display of subjugation. And it’s quite distressingly apparent, at least to anyone paying attention, that the GOP majority in Congress is no check at all upon Trump’s power. Indeed, they continue to fall over themselves to confirm his nominees and win his favor, with many terrified to oppose him and the MAGA mob. That leaves as our last and best defense the federal judiciary. These are lifetime appointees who still wield considerable power to slow, alter or even halt some of the worst excesses of the new administration. And over the last two weeks, they have proven themselves ready to exercise that power and demand compliance. In the wake of a slew of executive orders and a brazen takeover of government computer systems by DOGE, plaintiffs—including labor unions, nonprofits and blue state attorneys general—sued. And sued. And sued. The number of lawsuits is fast approaching 50.

The plaintiffs demanded an immediate halt to illegal and unconstitutional acts by the White House, the new cabinet and DOGE members within several key departments and agencies. And the judges listened. Contrary to MAGA claims of “liberal activist judges” inserting themselves into these disputes, the jurists hearing these cases were appointed by both Republican and Democratic presidents, including by Trump himself. Not long after the cases were filed, these same judges began issuing restraining orders and temporary injunctions ordering the Trump administration to lift freezes on federal payments, to stop firing civil employees, and to limit DOGE’s access to critical systems, among other things. In response, MAGA began threatening open defiance of their orders. This puts us very near to a constitutional Rubicon. And it raises some important questions. For example, what power does the federal judiciary have to actually enforce its orders? Is the Trump White House preparing to openly defy the orders anyway? And what happens if it does?

[...]

Defying gravitas

Elon Musk really hates judges. In fact, like our current toddler of a president, Musk hates anything and anyone who tells him that he can’t do what he wants to do. Musk feels zero accountability to anyone, and he believes he can act with impunity at all times. To underscore this, Musk retweeted a post by a MAGA account that walked through a recent judicial ruling against the Treasury, all while making numerous inaccurate statements. It concluded with these chilling words: “I don’t like the precedent it sets when you defy a judicial ruling, but I’m just wondering what other options are these judges leaving us.” Musk wasn’t the highest level “official” in the Trump White House to take this position. Vice President JD Vance went a step farther, tweeting, “Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.”

[...]

So the courts have issued orders. Can they enforce them?

As Democracy Docket’s Marc Elias explained recently, courts can order many kinds of relief, the most immediate being a temporary restraining order (TRO). Think of a fire burning near the house. A court can order the fire be put out right away (that’s the TRO) so that it doesn’t cause “irreparable harm” before it gets to the question of whose fault the fire was. A party has to obey an order to put out the fire, even if the judge later determines that it wasn’t in the wrong.

The courts, imperfect as they are, are the last guardrail left to rein in the tyrannical impulses of the Trump-Vance-Musk triumvirate.