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matchpointfaist · 25 days ago

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tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!�� there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,”

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,”

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to.

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?”

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off.

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you.

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left.

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go.

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?”

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches.

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself.

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?”

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,”

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,”

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,”

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,”

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry.

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him.

i parked my car right between the methodist

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on.

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow.

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze.

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,”

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation.

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling.

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,”

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,”

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit.

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together.

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush.

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him.

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night.

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,”

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,”

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,”

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,”

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window.

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him.

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard.

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin.

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,”

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head.

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. “art,” you gasp, “gonna-“

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth.

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,”

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop.

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?”

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing.

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?”

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,”

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,”

151 notes · View notes

asterias-record-shop · 9 months ago

Text

moan our name (p.p. (t.h.) & p.p. (a.g.))

(No forgotten memories, Peter 1 isn’t with MJ, Peter 3 is with you, never got with Gwen — in Peter 1’s world you’re this college girl he has a crush on.) When experimenting with a Sling Ring you found with your boyfriend, you couldn’t believe it when you both fell into a portal in another Spider-Man’s room. — 1.3k words

“Babe, I thought you said you weren’t going to keep messing with that thing?”

Peter was concerned for you, mainly because he was worried about your safety. He really didn’t want you to fall through a portal with no way to get home like he did.

“I’m just trying…” you muttered, humming softly as you attached a clip to it. “To see if it’s a conductor.”

Peter snorted as he came behind you, letting his arms wrap around your torso, softly pressing kisses to your temple. “Why do you need it as a conductor, baby?”

“To see if I can put its powers into something like a bracelet or something,” you muttered in response, heavily focused until it blitzed slightly. You gasped when it did so, and Peter jumped slightly as flickers of gold started to pour out through the ring, proceeding to sink down into some sort of ring-like portal.

“Son of a bit-”

Peter didn’t get to finish before you both fell down what seemed to be a portal like when Peter fell through one a few months ago and helped save another universe. Peter quickly uses his powers to shoot a web at you, pulling you into his chest and twisting so he makes impact with the floor instead of you.

He grunted as you looked around, inhaling as you sat up in his lap, letting your eyes trail the posters in the high apartment that seemed as though it cost more than all of Peter’s lab. “Where are we?”

Peter looks around, sighing thankfully. “Oh thank fuck.”

“What? Peter, where are we?” You asked as you slowly stood up, helping your boyfriend up as he softly kissed your head.

“We’re on the other Peter’s earth,” he mumbled into your hair, thankful that you were okay. “Remember I told you about him?”

You swallowed, about to nod before someone yelled.

“Peter 3!”

Your boyfriend pulled away, smiling when he saw the other brunette. “Peter 1!”

He was about to give your boyfriend a hug before he noticed you, his face immediately flushing. “Y/N?!”

Peter 3 paused, looking from Peter 1 from you to Peter. “You have a Y/N here?”

Peter 1 swallowed, nodding — he had literally just got off to the thought of you. Well, his you.

“Oh, you’re Peter 1!” You said as you stepped forward, offering your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you! My Peter has told me all about you.”

Your Peter grinned when you called him ‘my Peter,’ watching as you stepped forward to greet the other Peter. Still, Peter 1 was shocked when you touched him, the firm shake of your hand making his jaw go slack.

“This must be Tony Stark’s empire you took over,” your Peter said as you stepped back, face scrunching slightly.

“Who’s Tony Stark?”

“His… dad, I believe,” your Peter said as you looked around. “We don’t have a Tony Stark. Or, a famous one at least.”

“Wait! Do they have Goblin?” You asked as you turned around, almost as though you needed to prepare before your Peter laughed as he walked over to you.

“You don’t have to worry, baby,” he whispered, softly kissing your lips as Peter 1 looked away, putting his hand over his groin area to try and hide himself from getting hard again. Your Peter noticed this, smiling as he pulled away and looked over at Peter 1.

“You mind if we crash here? Until we figure out how to get back,” he hummed as he softly brushed his hand down your back. “My darling girl was trying to put the ring’s power into some bracelets.”

Peter 1 nodded frantically. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’ll call Dr. Strange so he can get you both back.”

Your Peter grinned as you yawned into his chest. “Thanks, kid.”

Peter 1 was upset. Very upset.

For one, you were even nicer than he could ever imagine – and he hated it.

For two, you both were stuck here until the wall between the worlds were thin enough again.

For three, the walls in the Stark Tower were thin with his enhanced hearings. Very, very thin. So much so that he was jacking himself off everytime you both had sex, just like he was doing right now.

He knew you were on your third orgasm. Peter 3 had barely just came, and you were about to cum, but Peter 3 knew just what he was doing.

“Come on baby, come on… moan my name, moan my name baby,” he groaned, the squelching of your pussy bouncing off the walls. He could only imagine how wet you were, the wet thrusts matching his pace of Peter 1 pumping his cock.

He had came just as many times as you had, mainly because he was so desperate to fuck you. What kind of coincidence was it that Peter 3 and you were together?

The thought made him pump his fist faster. He couldn’t stop, he was so so desperate to feel you.

“P-Peter, Peter!” You wailed, sobbing as you threw your head back, the bed continuing to slam into the wall. “I-I’m going to cum!”

Your Peter laughed. “Aw baby, you’re such a good girl… keep moaning my name, moan our name…”

That made Peter 1s eyes fly open.

Oh, he truly knew what he was doing.

It didn’t take Peter 1 long to get up, not even covering his cock as he walked through the halls and banged on the door.

“Ah, took him long enough, my darling…”

“Fuck you!” Peter 1 yelled, not even waiting for Peter 3 to open the door because he knew damn well he wouldn’t pull out of you – because Peter 1 wouldn’t either – stepping inside and stripping his clothes.

“W-We had a bet,” you giggled tiredly, inhaling. “Peter already stretched me out from behind.”

So that’s where he was fucking you earlier.

And so, Peter 1 wasted no time walking toward the bed before your Peter fixed the position of both of you, pulling you into his lap, spreading your legs with his thighs. “Like hell I was going to let you fuck her pretty cunt.”

To be completely honest, Peter 1 would take whatever he could get.

So he kneeled behind you, slowly steadying himself before snapping his hips forward to push into your ass. A loud wail left your lips, your teasing finally biting you in the ass as both Peter’s slowly started to fuck into you in sync.

Peter 1s thrusts were a lot more unsteady, almost as though he was still questioning what was going on, but your Peter’s thrusts were strong and rough.

He looked so pretty under you, sweat dripping down his temple as Peter 1 slowly fucked you from behind, moaning loudly as he kissed your shoulder blade. He was starting to get rougher, and the fact that two men were fucking you at now very different paces made your mind blur as their hands roam your body.

At this point, you truly were just a toy for them – and they were determined to use you like that.

“Come on baby, does it feel too good that you’re silent? Huh? Make some fucking noise,” your Peter basically snarled as his teeth graze your jaw, but that’s truly what you were feeling – you felt so good that you could barely make any noise, only with your mouth agape.

A soft sob fell from your mouth as you finally gave into your pleasure, your mouth wide open as you started to groan loudly. Your stomach felt like it was being penetrated, but it didn’t hurt at all, or you didn’t register that it was hurting.

Their hands squeezed and groped your body, their lips kissing every inch of your skin as you let out another sob. “Fuck, fuck! I-I gotta cum, I need to cum, please let me cum!”

Both Peters basically laughed in unison, a groan falling from your Peter's lips.

“Cum. We have until that portal gets figured out to fuck you.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsiblity.

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reignpage · 7 days ago

Note

hiiii i hope this doesnt add to the super specific ask about the eden characters and doesnt seem weird but im kinda curious of what the eden couples argue about, like what causes them to argue and how long does it take for them to resolve their issues? (maybe also what they do for forgiveness? like im thinking someone would cut up fruits for their lover as an apology 💀)

Two questions in one ask HOW GREEDDDY😡

Gojo and reader

In college:

They argue about Gojo’s friends. The frat guys who are rowdy and boisterous. Most of them are nice enough but frat guys get drunk and they become people reader can’t stand to be around. But they’re Gojo’s boys so he gets defensive. This is a recurring issue so it doesn’t really get resolved, it just dies down until it gets brought up again

In life:

They argue over Gojo’s immaturity. He’s too go with the flow sometimes and it leaves reader to deal with things, like he’s always lived in a position of privilege so there are some things he misses or he just doesn’t know, like how to lead a business or be a good role model.

It doesn’t take very long for Gojo to realise because he can see her getting visibly panicked.

Gojo apologises for leaving the responsibility to her by stepping up and getting serious. And then he’s pampering her with a spa day and shopping

Geto and reader

Generally:

Geto has a tendency to become withdrawn, to start smoking more often and to lose sleep, not telling her what’s on his mind. It’s hard for reader because she’s never been in his position so she doesn’t know what to do, she wants to give him his space but she’s worried giving him too much would just allow him to spiral more, but then pushing her way in might just push him away altogether

It varies every time. Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes it takes a month etc

Geto can only apologise and try to do better, making up for lost time and attending all the therapy. But none of it ever seems to do the trick

Choso and reader

They don’t have deep issues to resolve lol, these two are like hippies, it’s all just weed and art for them

But reader does get annoyed when Choso leaves his supplies around. She trips on paint cans or stubs her toes on canvas lying on the floor. She gives him the silent treatment.

It never lasts long, choso’s got a sixth sense when it comes to his muse. And he hates making her upset, so he’ll clean everything in the house just to cover all bases. And then he gets on his knees and literally begs her to forgive him.

Reader always has a devious idea for a punishment (not always sexual but tends to be) it could be something like being her nude model for hours. Choso will do whatever, he has little pride lol

Toji and reader

Oh god, these two argue all the damn time. It’s mostly reader telling Toji off. Something like leaving his basketball everywhere or staying out too late or not throwing beer bottles away or getting into a fight with another player or a coach etc etc

It can last a while since they’re both stubborn. Longest was when he quit his job as a physical trainer without consulting her and that fight lasted three weeks. But generally it’s days.

Toji knows he’s usually in the wrong and he cozies up to her, rubbing her shoulders, hugging her from the back, kissing her until she breaks.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex. Sometimes they fight just to have angry sex.

Nanami and reader:

They don’t have little fights. Nanami’s literally perfect, he has no flaws no I am not biased. Reader on the other hand is full of flaws and bad habits lol. But he’s forgiving and oh so patient, so there’s rarely ever any issue.

They do have big fights though, mostly around reader’s insecurities. Like the research partner. There’s no shouting, just tears, a lot of tears and lot of sobbing and begging.

When he sees her like that, Nanami’s heart breaks. Like literally. He falls to his knees and begs her to let him in, to not push him away, to trust him and believe him when he says there’s no one else, there’s never been anyone else.

He holds her in his arms until she calms down, takes her to the bath, and does her whole routine for her. Then he takes her to bed where he tries to soothe her and lets her fall asleep crying. When they wake up, reader is ashamed.

He doesn’t let her apologise.

Sukuna and reader:

Boy oh boy where do I begin with these two?

They argue over a lot of things. Sukuna hates when she’s nice to stupid, rich men, especially if they’re handsome. Reader hates when he’s nice to stupid rich, women, especially if they’re beautiful, and oh my god if they’re beautiful AND younger. Sukuna gets upset because she never butters him up like that. Reader is upset because he’s never nice.

They fuck it out.

Lots of angry sex that are more like hate sex? It’s just the forest over and over again, in every surface in every room in every conceivable position.

Then they’re good again.

Sometimes reader remembers what happened in first year and just gives him the silent treatment. Oh god sukuna hates the silent treatment, it’s worse than when she screams at him and attacks him, or even when she snubs him in public. He tries to do it back to her and these ice cold moments in the estate where they pretend the other doesn’t exist can last weeks, months. One time lasted 5 months.

Sukuna always caves first. He cuffs her to him when she’s sleeping so she’s forced to acknowledge his presence and even though she breaks the silence first, they both know he lost

He doesn’t mind losing when it feels like winning

#reignpageasks #modern au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Someone New 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: why am I so anxious all the time?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

If Peggy’s party promised everything would change, the ‘yes’ you give to Arturo pays on that promise. Almost at once, everything is different. Your boring, orderly life is suddenly thrown into chaos. You have a hundred worries at once and not enough times; passport, visa, packing, flights. Not too mention all that you’re leaving behind; apartment, furniture, and... friends.

It’ll be good. You keep telling yourself that, just like Arturo, just like Sam. They seem more excited than you are. You struggle to see past the grief of saying goodbye to the life you built there; the life you built around Steve and false hopes. It’s foolish and naive but it still hurts.

And you’re scared. Norway. It’s far away. And you’ll be all alone. You survived college because you found Steve; you could stomach the furor of the city for Sam and Bucky, but on your own, what could you do? You’re not brave or bold or anything like that.

It doesn’t matter. You’re going to work. To forget. Focus on the dig, don’t think about everything else.

You’ve already lost so much. Steve’s busy, you are too. Maybe that’s good. You have to condition yourself for the trip. For a new life. A year is a long time. You feel like the newly graduated teen heading off to college, the one who walked into the wrong lecture hall on that fated day, the one he picked out and put firmly in her place; a friend, just a friend.

As you sort through your closet, tossing fabric into one pile or the other, your music stops playing and your phone buzzes loudly against your nightstand. You hurry to pick it up as that noise makes your neck bristle. You hate it.

You pick up without checking the display. You hope it’s the visa office. No, it’s Sam.

“Hey, chicky poo,” he chirps from the other end.

“Chicky poo?” You echo flatly.

“Hm, you’re right, I’ll keep workshopping,” he chuckles, “so you’re leaving in a week?”

“As long as my paperwork shows up,” you sighs and cross your arm over your middle. You sway as you look around at the clutter of your bedroom. “And I can get all this shit out of my place.”

“When’s your flight?” He asks pointedly. He’s not subtle. Men never are. For years, you’d hoped Steve was being subtle and look how that turned out. You know now he was so obviously not into you.

“Thursday, 5am,” you answer.

“Ah, that’s pretty early to be hungover but it will be worth it.”

“Hungover?” You wonder as you slowly sit on your bed, “why?”

“You’re leaving us so obviously, you need a final hurrah,” he insists, “I’m throwing you a going away party. Just the four of us, unless you have any plus ones?”

“Going away party?”

“Neither of the other jerks are gonna do it,” he scoffs, “nothing fancy, promise. Just some drinks.”

“What about Tuesday? Give me a day to recover?”

“Wednesday works. Steve’ll be back by then.”

“Back by then?” You must sound like a parrot.

“Oh, yeah, the lovers went up north to look at venues for the engagement party. Too bad you won’t make it. I’ll have to drink myself into a stupour all by myself,” he intones.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you grumble and pick at a wrinkle in your pants.

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve this. I’m so fucking excited for you,” he chimes, “you have to tell me everything. I want pictures of vikings and castles and stuff. All of it.”

“Sam, I’m just going to be digging,” you mutter.

“And? You can’t just go over there an put your head down. Go sightseeing, go out on the town, have a wild one-night stand--”

“Sam,” you drone.

“You need it,” he cackles, “it’ll be a story to bring home with ya. Make us all jealous with your wild Norwegian adventure. Hey,” he pauses and sucks his teeth, “you’re like Uno reversing a whole country. Vikings used to invade others, this is your chance to go right in there and raise hell.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh and shake your head.

“Never said otherwise.”

“Hm, fine, Wednesday,” you agree, “if I'm gonna be there, I gotta get all this shit packed.”

“Did I not say if you need anything? I can help,” he offers.

“No, no, I got it,” you say, “really, it’s not that much.”

“Right, well, I should get back to it and let you do the same,” he says in a resigned tone.

You hang up and heave. You put the phone down and drop your head into your hands. You feel like you should cry. You’ve felt that tide of tears pushing on your eyes since the party but they just won’t come. All that tension is driving you mad but you just can’t dislodge the nail driven deep into your chest.

💟

Your life is hectic but you’re not surprised Steve isn’t part of the whirlwind. Why would he be? He has so much going on. A wedding is much more important than what could possibly be the most spontaneous and naive decision of your life. Impulsive more than anything. Cowardly when you think about it. You’re running away because you can’t face the truth. Because it’s just easy to leave your emotions in New York.

Still, you thought you’d hear more than this. More than a thumbs up emoji or hearsay from Sam. Even after your conversation on the balcony and his reassurances, you still feel his discontent. Will he really miss you that much or is he just upset you won’t be there to celebrate the love of his life?

It doesn’t matter, does it?

It’s gone so fast and you hope the next year goes just as quickly. That all this passes. Not just the trip but everything else. The sadness, the pain, the fear. You try to be positive. You thought college was scary and look how that turned out.

Ugh, you’re really doing this. You're leaving is all behind. You’re leaving your friends and your family and your home. You have no one to blame but yourself. You could’ve gotten over Steve Rogers a decade ago. More than that. You couldn’t rip the band-aid off, you had to pull it slow so ever hair rends painfully from the flesh.

The GPS guides you between the shining marquee. You can see the pulsing dot of your destination on the screen. You don’t drive towards it, instead hunting for a parking spot among the cramped lots and lined curbs. You should’ve taken a cab but you’re only having one drink and you’re saving for the inevitable expense of hurling yourself halfway across the world.

You get out and grab your phone, your purse hooked over your elbow. You raise the small screen and get your bearings, squinting as you set yourself in the right direction. Just across and at the end.

As you approach the bar, you stop short. This isn’t exactly the flavour. Well, not for them. You peer up at the neon light in the shape of a martini, a bright pink beacon, under which a large group of women cluster. Whoops and hollers go up as they enter and leave you standing out in the technicolour-tinted night. Did you get the address wrong?

You check your messages with Sam. No, it’s correct. Strange. Maybe he didn’t know.

You pull open the violet-shaded glass door and peer around as you step out of the way of the patrons behind you. You text Sam to check if he’s there already. You can’t seem to keep up with the clock hands these days.

As you wait for a response, you glance around. It’s like a Sex and the City reenactment. The guys always teased you for your rants about Carrie Bradshaw’s selfishness. They weren’t much for the genre. With them, it’s sports bars and beers and what ball game is in season. They never notice your cute new earrings or your efforts to spruce up your work clothes with a flashy belt.

‘Here. You’re looking cute.’ Sam’s response comes.

You narrow your eyes and stand on your toes to look around. He’s sitting at a tall table with Bucky, the two of them looking out of place before the feathered centerpiece and glitzy wall art of high heels. You can’t help a grin. This is absolutely ridiculous.

You weave through the tables and bodies, past the bar of gabbing girl groups and a few men mixed in. You near your friends and claim one of the tall stools around the round table. You use the bottom bar to haul yourself up onto the seat and hang your purse from your knee.

“Hey, this place is... sparkly,” you look around with a dumb smile. You can’t help it! You never get a girls’ night.

“It is,” Bucky agrees in a grit.

You stop short. You look at him then at Sam. You didn’t notice before. They’re wearing bows on their heads. Sam has a head band with a gregariously big pink ribbon, whereas Bucky has a glittering purple bow pinned into his thick locks. You laugh and smother it behind your hands.

“What is this?” You snicker.

“We are your ladies tonight!” Sam announces and shifts to stand, bending under the table, “and you get to be queen bee!” He reaches to the floor and you lean to see the huge tote underneath, “here is your tiara!”

He pulls out the plastic tiara with fake pink gems and white feathers. You giggle again as he places it on your head. This is too much.

“Sam! How—this is so stupid. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“What? It’s about time. Don’t worry about us. It’s all about you,” he snaps his finger and points at you, “we’re going to order girly cocktails and dish on the cute dudes.”

Bucky shakes his head as he fixes the bow in his hair, “I wanted a flower.”

You bring your hands down to your next and wiggle on the seat giddily. This is amazing. Your eyes sting and your throat locks up. You’re going to miss these idiots.

“You guys,” you breathe.

“No crying!” Sam claps his hand, “I already got this guy moping around.”

“I’m not moping,” Bucky sniffs.

“We have to decide who’s who. I know you hate Carrie so we’ll save that for Steve. He is the stuck up blond, after all,” Sam smirks, “I’m definitely Samantha, it’s already in my name. And you,” he points at you, “Miranda. The level-headed one who has to put up with our BS. That means Bucky--”

“Charlotte?” Bucky frowns, “can’t I be Stanford?”

You nearly gasp, “Bucky, are you a stan?”

“I’ve seen some episodes,” he shrugs.

“Well, that’s decided,” Sam checks his watch, “where’s that bozo?”

You frown and look around. You look at your phone. You were just on the cusp but Steve is late. Bucky takes out his cell too and all three of you scroll through your screens.

“Whatever, we don’t have to wait for him, drinks,” Sam blacks the screen and sets down his phone. He reaches for the pink pleather drink menu, “I was looking at the Paradise Punch. Sounds interesting.”

“Mm, I’m just having one,” you state, “I gotta drive home.”

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. You can get your car tomorrow.”

“Sam, I leave at five in the morning.”

“Fine, I’ll take care of the car. You’re storing it, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t expect--”

“Tonight is going to be fun. No arguing,” he points a long finger at you.

The phone jitters and his phone lights up. He picks it up as your cell remains lifeless in a rare moment of peace, though it’s fraught nonetheless. You peek over at the empty fourth stool.

“He’s not coming,” you utter.

Sam huffs and puts his phone down, “he’s not. Peggy has a work dinner and he’s invited.”

“Oh,” you nod and try not to deflate entirely, “that’s... that’s fine. He said he’d come to the airport but I wasn’t counting on that either.”

“Asshole,” Sam sneers.

“Hey, no,” you shake your head, “he’s busy. He has a wedding and all that--”

“You’re going away,” Bucky surprises you with the emotion in his tone, “and he can’t be here.”

“Really, it’s not--”

“It is,” Sam insists. “How long are you gonna let him walk all over you? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?”

“It’s work, it’s nothing to do with Steve.”

“Sure,” Sam accepts hotly, “keep telling yourself that.” He cringes and swallows, “tonight isn’t about him. For once. It’s about you. Us. Having fun. Saying goodbye. It’s gonna be terrible without you. I hope you know that.”

You could laugh at his rebuke. The conflict between celebratory and reproachful is amusing. You exhale and put your hands up.

“Alright, I got it.”

“Buck,” he gestures to the other man, “go.”

You turn to the Bucky and he slides off his stool. He reaches down under the table and brings up a gift bag. Your mouth falls open. Your chest tweaks, a mixture of glee and guilt. You’re happy to have friends with them but you feel so bad for not seeing it earlier. For being so tunnel-visioned that you couldn’t appreciate them fully.

“This is so—you didn’t have to,” you say.

“We did. Obviously,” Sam scoffs, “don’t worry, my gift is the grand finale.”

“Right,” you smile and accept the bag from Bucky. You push through the tissue paper and pull out the heavy shape inside. You reveal it and just as quickly hide it back in the polka dot bag, “Bucky!”

You let go of the taser and retract your hand. Sam guffaws and Bucky gives a confused grimace, “you need it.”

“What?” You hiss.

“You’re going to be all alone over there. You should be safe.”

“I... appreciate the thought but it’s a bit extreme.”

“He’s right,” Sam adds, “you know, going to the land of the vikings, you can never be too safe. I’ve heard they like to carry women off in their boats.”

“You two,” you roll your eyes.

“My turn,” Sam says, “you’ll love this.”

He once more searches under the table and the tote crinkle. He pulls out an envelope and you tilt your head. Really?

“Money?” You wonder.

“What am I? Your grandma?” He snorts, “here.”

You take the envelope and turn it over. You pull the flap open and reveal a pamphlet within, along with a second slip of paper. A reservation...

“I found this place over there. It’s at some coastal castle, there’s a spa and all that. They do like ancient types of treatments, hot rocks or whatever,” he explains, “I made sure you can adjust the dates too if you need. You just have to call.”

“Wow, that’s... Sam, I’m going to be so busy--”

“I told you not to work yourself too hard. That’s a good excuse for you to get your head out of the dirt. Literally. Just think of me when you’re in a mud bath with a glass of champagne.”

You put the envelope next to the gift bag and drop off the stool. You open your arms to them. Sam is up first and Bucky drags himself to his feet. You wrap them in a hug and they do the same in turn. It must be an absolutely ridiculous sight but you don’t care. You tuck your head against Sam’s arm and feel a rumble in Bucky’s chest.

“Sam, that’s my ass,” Bucky snarls.

“I was just making sure you didn’t forget your wallet,” Sam chuckles.

“You’re a moron,” Bucky pulls away and shoves him.

“Peas in a pod, bud,” Sam lets you go as the hug breaks up, “now, I need a drink and you...” he points in your direction, “need a double.”

#steve rogers #thor #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #someone new #series #au #fic #grayish fic #angst fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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tojisbbg · 2 years ago

Text

𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆!

❝but, you’re my baby, and i love you so much!❞

♡ rin itoshi ♡

a/n: i kept getting tiktoks on my fyp of this trend and i couldn’t help but think of him.

content: rin itoshi x reader, established relationship, gentlelover!rin, reader is a little mean, very fluffy, kinda short, not grammatically checked.

---

it was almost nine and you were stressed.

every little thing in this entire world was pissing you off because you couldn’t finish this stupid fucking project your professor decided to assign you this morning. to make things even better, it’s due before the beginning of class the next morning and it’s group work.

surprise, surprise! your group mates are shit and the responsibility of the entire project was now shoved up your ass.

how beautiful.

you were barely finished with the other assignments that you received from your other classes, which meant that you’d have to pull another all-nighter.

who the absolute fuck told you that it got better in college? ‘cause right now you want to kill yourself.

you were trying to reach over to grab your binder when suddenly your hand knocked over the cup of coffee you had on your side. you gasped as your eyes widened.

it spilled all over your laptop.

“no, no, no!! fuck.” you panicked, quickly ripping a bunch of tissue to wipe the liquid away without getting it further into your device. and just because god loves you so much, your phone began to buzz.

you groaned in annoyance, leaning over to swipe the decline button. you upsettingly sighed, seeing that your laptop was already starting to malfunction, which meant that you were screwed.

“ugh, what the fuck, man. i’m gonna end my life, i swear.” you grumbled to yourself. your phone began to ring again and your face had a scowl painted on it as you roughly grabbed the small device, swiping green.

“y/n?” the familiar voice on the other end called out as you received the call.

“yes, yes, what is it rin? i’m really busy right now and your constant calling is wasting my time. couldn’t you have just texted me instead?” you snapped at him, making him become silent for a few seconds and he was trying to process what the hell was going on.

“are you okay? you seem upset.” rin responded in a worry tone, making you roll your eyes.

“no, rin. i’m actually so happy right now that i can die. whatever, why did you call?” you decided to cut to the chase, figuring that it was no use of getting too distracted right now.

“it’s fine, i’ll see you at home.” he shortly said before hanging up, leaving you with your mouth open.

“then what the fuck was the reason for calling me?!” you yelled at your screen, which was pointless because your lover wasn’t on the other line. you angrily slammed your phone on the table before going back to your mission of trying to revive your laptop.

about thirty minutes has passed and you gave up on your laptop, deciding to finish your paper assignments first and then try again later. you furiously scribbled writing on your assignments, your handwriting progressively getting sloppier and uglier as you bullshitted them.

you no longer cared if your work was absolute doodoo, you just wanted to get it done and over with. so invested in your work, you didn’t even notice when rin slipped inside your shared apartment.

he usually had soccer practice which ended later on the day during the weekdays. the 6′1 striker entered the kitchen, rummaging through some things before his footsteps came towards where you sat.

“this shitty ass laptop still won’t work!” you whined, banging your fists on the keyboard in frustration as you felt like ripping your hair out.

rin pulled the chair next to you out so that he could sit down and watch his very stressed and mad girlfriend work.

“wanna talk about it, baby?” rin finally got the courage to break the thick silence that was fogging up the entire room.

“no.” you sharply answered back, your tone nearly slicing his heart.

“you sure? taking a small break wouldn’t hurt.” he softly suggested, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. for some odd reason, his persistence was getting on your nerves and you would then do something that you knew you’d instantly regret if not now then later.

you angrily shoved off his hand, making rin look at you with a shocked and confused face at your unusual behavior.

“for fucks sake, leave me alone! can’t you see that i’m trying to finish my work? you don’t have to worry about college like i do because you have your entire future set by kicking a stupid ball. i don’t! so just fucking go, rin!” you yelled at him, watching his face fall as he stood up from his chair. suddenly, the words on your tongue died down, your throat becoming dry.

fuck.

you knew you messed up real bad, but the damage has already been done. rin let out a heavy sigh before looking down at you with sad eyes.

“okay, i’ll stop bugging you. also, your laptop most likely won’t turn back on, so stop wasting your time on bringing something back after destroying it. just use mine, it’s in my duffle bag.” rin dryly spoke before turning his heels, walking towards your shared bedroom before you heard the slam of the door shutting, making you flinch.

“fuck you professor, i hope your wife leaves your for another man.” you swore under your breath, closing the lid of your dead laptop. you walked towards the sofa where rin’s duffle bag was, opening it to pull out his laptop for your use.

you walked back to your spot, turning on his device to begin working. it was almost midnight, so, if god was on your side then you could hopefully finish the project by two in the morning.

as soon as the laptop turned on, the first thing you were met with was his wallpaper which was set as a collage of your photos. you couldn’t help but take in a few minutes to stare at it, and as each minute passed, your heart began to ache even more.

you knew that rin didn’t deserve to hear those words, but you couldn’t stop yourself from saying those awful things to him in the heat of the moment. shaking your head to shoo those distracting thoughts away, you retracted your focus back onto your project.

---

you finished typing the last word on the report and you could almost shed happy tears. you were finally done with this shit, your hands shaking and your eyes begging to close. without hesitation, you submitted the work. who cares about checking for grammar issues when your soft bed was calling out for your ass.

“not bad, it’s only one-thirty. hm, i guess i should eat before going to sleep since i’m kinda hungry.” you talked to yourself, shutting off rin’s laptop as you lazily made your way to the kitchen to fix yourself up some instant ramen.

your eyes fell on the white plastic bag on the kitchen counter, an eyebrow cocking upwards as you curiously opened the bag. you gasped as you realized that it was your favorite takeout.

“oh my god, i’m such a piece of shit.” you whispered, head hanging low as you thanked the heavens for blessing your with such a loving and kind boyfriend whom you didn’t deserve at all

you eagerly reheated up the food in the microwave before speed walking back to the dining table. you settled your food down on the table, allowing it to cool while your pack your bag and put rin’s laptop on charge so that he could use it for his classes tomorrow.

after eating and cleaning up, you decided to skip your usual night routine since you were pretty tired. you quickly brushed your teeth and went straight to the bedroom.

you quietly opened the door, noticing how the lights were off and the only source that was providing some form of light inside your room was the small lamp on the side.

tiptoeing to your side of the bed, you slipped under the covers as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. you could hear rin’s soft snores coming from the side, the cute man sleeping on his back as he faced the ceiling.

your eyes scanned his features, which every nook and cranny of your brain had memorized. he looked so cute while he slept and an overwhelming wave of sadness hit you like a tsunami as you recalled the way you treated him earlier on the night.

tears began to sting your eyes as guilt washed on your face, the warm liquid streaming down your face. without thinking twice, you climbed onto him as you straddled rin’s waist before hugging his sleeping form, burying your teary face in the crook of his neck while you sobbed.

feeling the wet and warm tears stain the flesh of his neck, rin began to squirm in his sleep as he groaned.

“what the hell?” rin groggily said, opening his sleep filled eyes as he saw a lump on top of him shaking and crying. he wrapped an arm around you before carefully sitting up, leaning against the headboard as he rubbed your back.

you decided to face him, even though you knew you looked hideous. you face was probably wet and red like a tomato.

“oh my god, you look even cuter now!” you cried even harder after taking one look at him, leaving rin nothing but confused as fuck. you peppered his face with kisses before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. you squeezed him closer to you until it was humanly not possible.

“i’m so sorry, rinnie! i was such a jerk to you all night because i was so upset about my stupid project. it’s just everything was getting me so mad ‘cause my group mates ditched me and my dumbass spilled coffee on my laptop, a-and the-then i-” you were choking on your tears and words from crying and talking to fast.

“shh, it’s okay baby. i’m not upset because you reacted that way, i know you were stressed. we’re okay, y/n.” rin’s words were gentle as it helped you calm down from your crying frenzy. you raised your face up to look back at his face, seeing a soft and warm smile painted on his lips as his gorgeous teal eyes sparkled with love.

“i know but you’re my baby! and i love you so much! god, i was so mean, how could i even say those things? i’m so, so, sorry, rinnie. i shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you i’mtheworstgirlfriendeverohmygodwhydon’tyouhateme.” you ugly sobbed, your words weren’t even coherent as rin couldn’t help but chuckle.

he knew that you didn’t mean those words and he also knew that this would happen as well. once again, your gentle boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand.

“ahh, what a crybaby. hm, you can make it up to me by giving me a smile. i want to see my girlfriend smile before i go to sleep, not in tears.” he playfully said, as you lifted your head to meet his eyes once more. the sight of such a domestic scene made your stomach fill with swarming butterflies.

fuck, you just wanted to marry him.

“i’m gonna eat you up if you don’t stop looking at me like that.” you poked his chest, making him laugh as wiped away your tears with his fingers.

“and exactly how am i looking at you?” rin asked and you mumbled.

“like you wanna grow old with me until i die.” you bluntly responded, making his smile widen.

“and what if told you that it’s exactly what i want?” he gave you a cheeky grin, making you blush as a giggle left your lips.

“then what’s stopping you, idiot? marry me! i do, i do, i do!!” you exclaimed before crashing your lips with his. you placed your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you as both of your lips molded into each other’s. rin’s arms securely wrapped around your waist, following the rhythm of your lips.

the kiss wasn’t intense, it was sweet and lasting with a touch of innocence. it was a kiss in which you both enjoyed each other as lovers. and you loved this feeling, the feeling of breathing, tasting and touching him.

your sweet, kind and gentle lover, itoshi rin.

pulling away, you looked at him with adoring eyes, swiping away the strands of hair that covered his eyes. rin looked at you like you were the most beautiful and important thing in his life.

to which you were.

“i’ll make you my wife and keep you in my heart forever. i love you so much, y/n.” his heart swelled with his love for you. your eyes nearly shape shifted into hearts upon hearing his words.

“i love you more, rinnie.” you smiled, placing a smooch on his lips, purposely making noise as he chuckled.

“come on, let’s go to sleep. you have class early in the morning, i don’t want you to fall sick.” rin said and you nodded, the both of you getting comfortable on the bed. you scooched closer to your boyfriend, wrapping all your limbs around him as you placed your head on his chest. your ear was right on top of his heart, hearing the thumping noises of his heart beating.

it brought you peace to know such a perfect man existed, alive and in your hold right now. his pulse lulled you to sleep and soon enough, you were knocked out.

rin glanced down to his chest and saw you fast asleep, his lips curling upwards as he bent his head down to place kisses on your lips and forehead.

“oh, before i forget.” he leaned over to grab your phone, unlocking the device as he went to the submission box of your project assignment. he unsubmitted the report, going to the title page as he erased the names of your group members. a satisfied smirk was plastered over his face as he resubmitted the finished project that had just your name on it.

“tch, not giving those fuckers any credit for what was all you, my love. sleep tight.” he said before ending his words to himself with a yawn, his own eyes feeling heavy. you were very warm and soft, which meant that rin would be out like a light soon as well.

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souliebird · 1 year ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 7]]

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

Summary:

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

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

When you escaped your parents’ house and moved into the city for college, you already knew the basics of cooking. Since you had turned fourteen, it had been your responsibility to feed yourself. 'You are old enough to figure it out' was what your parents had told you. Living in the dorms didn't give you much opportunity to cook and when you finally had your own kitchen to really play around in, you didn't have the money to afford a full pantry. It was hard, but it never deterred you and you learned a couple of good recipes.

When Minnie came along and you were able to figure out her likes and dislikes, you made a few changes - you could finally afford to get all organic produce and bread not made from ninety percent sawdust and you started cooking even more because your little one didn't like things from a can.

And despite what the experts and people online say, you give in to every one of Minnie's food whims. You don't want to force her to eat things she doesn't like. Your parents never listened to you, even if the food made you sick - you ate what was given to you or not at all. You are not going to do that to her and the rules you have come up with are she at least has to try something. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't need to eat it, and the past few months she's been pretty good at telling you why she doesn't like something. You don't always understand her reasoning, but you accept and tell her that she can try it again when she's bigger.

Her favorite thing that you make is lasagna. You make it from scratch and she usually loves to help you and will spend all day excited for ooey-gooey cheese.

Usually.

Today is not a usual day. Today your daughter is an upset little banshee. As soon as she woke up, she was in a bad mood. She didn't want to be touched at all and getting her dressed was a nightmare. Lots of 'no's and crying about how all her clothes were itchy until you finally allowed her to just wear her swimsuit. It was the only thing you could get her to stay in. You didn't even try with her hair, running your fingers through it to get out some knots, but that only lasted a full five seconds before she was running away from you.

You are trying to be patient with her - you know that something must be upsetting her, whether it be waking up on the wrong side of the bed or she's starting to get a cold and not feeling well. She doesn't know how to express herself beyond crying and you don't blame her. You want to cry when you don't feel well.

That doesn't mean it isn't stressful for you. The back of your skull is throbbing from her screams and your own mood is sour because you don't know how to help. Hearing her so upset breaks your heart.

Matt is supposed to come by, thus the homemade dinner, but part of you wonders if you should cancel. Minnie isn't going to calm down anytime soon and you would feel bad having him come over just to witness a tantrum. On the other hand, tantrums are a part of having a child.

You decide to leave it up to him and send him a text letting him know Minnie is having a bad day. He quickly responds he still wants to come, so you return to working on your tomato sauce as quietly as you can.

Mouse has hidden herself under a throw blanket with her tablet and her plushies on the couch. You don't worry about her doing anything she shouldn't be - the tablet is child locked to hell and back - but it is a little hard to tell what she is doing since she's muted the tablet. There is an eerie purple glow coming from under the blanket, so you can guess she's playing one of her games. You've found a few that don't require sound that she enjoys - a few dress up games and matching things.

Occasionally you hear her sniffle or mumble but she doesn't call for you, so you let her be. She didn't really nap today, so you're trying to avoid another meltdown. You are hoping when you remind her Matt is coming, it will help her mood. You're a little jealous he is obviously her new favorite person, but also you are so happy for it.

Your original idea of taking things slow has been adjusted based on her reaction. You wanted to start talking to her about family today and build her up to the idea of having a dad, then have Matt over so she starts that association. That obviously is not going to happen.

You finish up your prep and start to assemble the lasagna, laying sheets of pasta down before adding sauce and cheese then repeating the process until the pan is full. You made a little extra, with the intention of sending Matt home with leftovers. He had mentioned in passing that he doesn't get to cook much and living off take out is not ideal.

The baking pan gets put into the oven and the timer is set, then you aren't sure what to do with yourself. It will take about an hour and Matt is scheduled to arrive then.

You could do some cleaning, but with how Minnie is, you don't want to set her off. You know when she gets like this, any little thing can trigger her, so the best you can come up with is scrolling your phone.

Still, you want to be with your baby, so you make your way to the couch. You keep your voice just above a whisper, knowing she's been itching at her ears all day, "Mouse, can I sit with you on the couch?"

You know she heard you based on the way the blanket moves. It takes a moment before you hear a tiny 'okay'.

You tuck yourself into the opposite corner and take out your phone to bring up something to look at. As soon as you start scrolling your feed, the glowing blanket mound starts moving towards you and you are easily overtaken by it. Minnie gets herself into your lap, still hidden away, then flops against your chest. You can feel her tablet against your thigh and you're pretty sure Scooby is jammed into your stomach, but as long as she's good, you're good.

You keep an eye on the time as you flick through your phone. A majority of the news sites you follow are filling your feed with stories about the explosion in Connecticut. An uneasiness fills your stomach when you see the word 'attack' being thrown around. The headlines say they have determined the destruction was intentional and not an accident, though no one has claimed responsibility. Tony Stark gave some sort of press conference, so his face is all over your phone.

You don't need this today, so you switch over to browsing some online shops. Minnie is getting too big for her winter coat, so you definitely need to get her one before the weather changes and prices go up. You'll have to get her approval before you make a final purchase, but it's good to check what is in the market.

About twenty minutes before you are due to take the lasagna out of the oven, Matt texts you to let you know he is on his way. You confirm that you got his message, then gently run a hand over the mound in your lap, "Hey, sweetie. Dinner is almost ready. Do you remember what I said about dinner tonight?"

The blanket gets tugged and moved until Minnie can poke just the top of her head out. She squints at you, like she is judging you, before mumbling out, "Mister Matt is coming?"

You give her a soft smile, trying to comfort her in any way you can, "That's right, baby, Mister Matt is going to come over and have dinner with us."

She squirms in your lap, before flopping herself forward again and declaring, "I want juice."

"Okay, sweetie."

You manage to gather her, her blanket, her tablet, and some plushies into your arms and get Minnie on your hip to carry her to the kitchen. You're an expert at doing things one handed and it only takes you a minute to make up a sippy cup. Once that is in her little hands, you deposit her into her seat at the dining table. You let her keep her blanket and toys, setting up Scooby and Pig so they are in the seat next to her and her tablet is on the table in front of her.

She is indeed playing a dress up game and as she nurses her juice, she looks at each dress option for the character she's dressing. As she does that, you start to set the table around her. You can tell that despite the cuddles and quiet, your Mouse is still in a grumpy mood. You really, really hope that Matt will help her smile a little.

Once everything is set, you check on the lasagna. It smells and looks delicious to you, and you take the sheet tray out a little early so it can start to cool. That gets Minnie's attention, and you can see her watching you out of the corner of your eye. She's stuck her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them as her eyes follow you around the kitchen.

You are so busy watching Mouse watch you, you don't keep track of the time and when there is a soft knock at the front door, you jump.

You scurry to answer, putting your hand over your heart and telling yourself to chill out. You know who it is and why they are here, and you don't need to panic over it. It's just Matt, you tell yourself.

It's just Matt.

You open the door and your breath catches.

It is just Matt, but Matt is Matt, and he makes your heart pound in a different way.

He's come right from work, so he's in one of his crisp, fitted suits. His hair is fluffed up, like he's run his fingers through it too many times, and he's got that permanent five o'clock shadow. He looks like some GQ model, standing in your doorway.

Embarrassment runs through you. You're not nearly as dressed up as he is. Even on his casual days, he looks so fashionable and cool, and you are wearing biker shorts and a black T-shirt. You look by no means raggedy, but maybe you should have changed. Just because Matt can't see what you are wearing doesn't mean you can be a slob.

"Hi," you eventually choke out and Matt's face lights up.

"Hey there," he says back, then he's holding up a bottle of wine and smiling so sweetly, "I thought I'd try contributing this time and I figured you might need a glass."

You can't help but flush. Today has been rather long and a glass of wine sounds amazing. You don't drink often, but he is right and a glass to unwind sounds perfect.

"You're a saint," you praise, and step aside so he can come in. "How was your day? Oh, you can put your jacket and bag to your left. There's hooks about chest level."

Matt thanks you, then reaches out to feel the wall. He finds the hooks quickly, then hangs his saddle bag before starting to remove his coat, "it was good. We were able to wrap up a few smaller cases - sometimes it just takes someone getting a lawyer for others to cave and do the right thing. Cheaper to just do the right thing than get sued and having to do it anyways, plus all the pay outs and fees."

"That is good," you hum, very much meaning it. You're glad those people got the help they needed. "You mentioned having a handful of cases, so that frees up your plate a little bit, right?"

Matt laughs a little, smile still wide, "A little bit. It's a nice change of things - we aren't hurting for paying clients, so we are going to try to take on a few more pro-bono things. We're getting into a nice groove - or so Foggy claims. He's leading that charge - making sure we aren't over working ourselves."

"I'll have to send him a thank you card," you tease, surprising yourself with it.

"He'd like that, he'd get to lord it over me," he replies. Then he turns to you and steps forward, reaching out and finding your arm. He ghosts his fingers up until he oh-so-gently wraps them around your bicep and steps forward until you're a breath away from each other and you have to look down at his chest, so you are not staring at your own reflection in his glasses. His voice drops to something quiet and intimate, and you can barely hear him through the pounding of your heart in your ears.

"I told them. About you. About Minnie."

You find yourself smiling at the news. That makes it more real, doesn't it? It isn't just the courts acknowledging Matt is Minnie's father - it's the real world. It's Matt wanting her - wanting to show the world he wants his daughter.

That's all you want.

You step just a fraction closer, and to keep your balance and let Matt know how close you are, you place your hand in Matt's chest. Almost instantly, his free hand goes to your waist, and you feel steady.

You bite your bottom lip, then ask, your curiosity so much bigger than your ability to keep your mouth shut, "What did they say?"

He huffs and lightly shakes his head, "After yelling at me for keeping it a secret? They want to meet you, properly. If that is okay. I told them I'd ask you before confirming anything." He hums, then drops his voice even more, "Karen got me magnets so I could hang all the work I got up on my fridge at home."

"You're going to need a lot of them," you whisper back to him. "I ordered popsicle sticks and puff balls so she can make 3D things."

"I can't wait. Karen got me a bulk pack of magnets."

You giggle at that, but before you can reply, a needy little voice calls out from the dining table, "Mommy!"

You pull away from Matt, his fingers tracing down from your bicep to your wrist before he drops his hand, and turn to walk towards your daughter, "Yes, Mouse?"

"I'm hungry!"

She's poked her head out from under the blanket and is now wearing it like a cape and her chubby little cheeks are pulled down into an upset frown. You have a feeling a tantrum may be close - there's nothing worse than a hangry toddler.

You take a breath, then smile at your daughter, "Okay. Mister Matt is here so we can have dinner now. Do you want to tell him what we are having?"

Matt taps his way into the main living space, and you know you should give him a quick tour, but you think if you delay dinner at all, Minnie is going to start crying, so you tell him instead where the table is.

Minnie doesn't seem to want to engage, stuffing her fingers back into her mouth. Luckily, Matt isn't dissuaded by that. He sets the wine bottle down before taking the seat across from Minnie.

"It smells like we're going to have lasagna for dinner. Is that what we are having?" he asks, voice soft and gentle.

Your little one rocks side to side, keeping her fingers in her mouth before nodding. Normally, you would remind her to use her words, but you don't want to push, so you relay her message to Matt, "She nodded."

Matt hums softly in response. He tilts his head slightly, brows knitting together, before leaning forward just a fraction, "Do you want us to leave you alone until you eat?"

You are surprised by the question then even more surprised when he gets the tiniest, 'yes' in reply. Matt's face softens at that, and he nods to Minnie.

"Okay. Can I still talk to your Mommy, or do you want us to be quiet, too?"

You stand, dish towel in your hands, ready to bring the lasagna to the table, watching your daughter interact with her father. He's being so gentle and understanding with her and you can tell he's being genuine. You can hear the care in his words, how he's giving her choice and not pushing her to talk to him.

You'll gladly eat dinner in silence if Minnie doesn't want either of you to talk. You don't know how it will work, but you'll try.

Your little one doesn't answer the question right away. She looks between you and Matt, before pulling her fingers out of her mouth to speak, "You can talk to Mommy."

"Thank you, sweetheart. We'll be quiet, okay?" Matt promises.

You quickly parrot him, giving your own soft smile, "Thank you, baby. We'll keep it down."

Minnie snuggles herself tighter into her blanket and you take that as a sign to get yourself into gear. You carefully pick up the lasagna pan and bring it over to the table, setting it as far as possible away from your little one.

Matt tilts his head towards you, and the food, "That smells delicious. Did you make it yourself?"

You go back to the kitchen to get your serving utensils and answer in the softest voice you can muster that isn't whispering, "Thank you, I did. I found an all organic, from scratch recipe online and have been using it ever since. It's even fancy, way too expensive, cheese. I, uh, made extra. For you to take home, if you want."

Matt licks his lips, and you can tell he's trying to hold back a big smile. It makes your insides turn in a funny way - his kindness and appreciation. You are, as sad as it is, not used to such treatment and for whatever reason that, combined with Minnie's attitude, and Matt being in your apartment for the first time kick starts your anxiety. You are definitely very aware of your heartbeat, and it feels like someone dipped your heart into ice water before it disappears into a hollowness.

This feeling isn't new to you, so you try to push past it, not let your sudden panic ruin things, because despite your little one's sourness, things are okay. You tell yourself things are okay.

Your tiny bout of distress goes unnoticed, as it lasts the blink of an eye. Matt leans back in his chair, letting his smile start to crack through, "You didn't have to do that, but I will definitely take you up on it. I can't turn away a home cooked meal."

You force yourself to smile and cut out a slice of lasagna for Matt, before leaning over to place it on his plate, "Guests first."

"Thank you," Matt practically cooes, "I don't think I've been this excited for a dinner in a long time."

The praise does all sorts of things to you, so instead you focus on cutting out a little slice for Minnie and serving it to her. As soon as the food is in front of her, she stabs her fork into it and shovels a piece into her pouty mouth. You don't blame her at all.

"Would you like a glass of wine…?" You ask Matt. Minnie has her sippy juice, but you haven't set out any other drinks.

He gives you a soft, "Yes, please," and you go to get the two wine glasses you have and a cork screw. You bring them back to the table and set down the glasses before going to open the wine. You haven't done it in such a long time it takes you a minute of struggling to pop it. Matt turns his head towards you, a little grin on his face until you start pouring.

You give Matt his drink, then finally make your own plate before sitting beside Matt. Minnie is still angrily stabbing at her dinner and you feel so bad for her. Even with her favorite dinner and good company, she's not having it. You expect when you put her down, either she'll try to fight you or be asleep the moment she touches the covers. You very much hope for the latter.

Matt, on the other hand, looks completely enthralled with his plate. You can tell his eyes are closed and he's clearly enjoying what he's eating.

You don't press for conversation - instead reaching for your wine. It's a deep red and delicious on your tongue and you can't remember the last time you've had a good wine. You can feel your shoulders starting to loosen.

Which of course means, everything needs to come crashing down.

One moment everything is okay, then the next, Minnie is absolutely screeching. Her face is screwed up in pain and you scramble to get out of your chair to get to her.

"Minnie! What's wrong?!" You try to ask her over her wailing.

Instead of any sort of answer, she grabs for her fork, which is stabbed into her food, and throws it as hard as she can. You watch in horror as the fork and a large chunk of lasagna still attached to it flies over the table and smacks right into Matt's chest. Panic surges through you as he also bends forward and covers his ears with a distressed face, ignoring the food staining his shirt.

You try to grab Minnie from her booster, but she does not want it and instantly starts to try and fight you, flinging her arms and legs everywhere.

"Minnie, please," you beg as she kicks you in the hip, "What's wrong, baby?!"

The only reply you get is upset screaming.

"Cover her ears!"

Matt is very suddenly beside you and clapping his hands over your baby's ears. She fights it, squirming to get away and smacking at his arms with all her might, but he doesn't budge. You stare, not understanding what is going on, what set her off, and you don't know how to help.

You don't know how to help and that sinking feeling in your chest is returning and you're scared.

Matt says your name again, then almost barks at you, "Her headphones! Get her headphones, the strongest ones!"

You don't understand why but it's something you can help with, something you can do, and you rush to the bedroom and grab her sleeping headband. Minnie has always told you this one works the best, despite the reviews of the others. You run back to the dining area and nearly stumble upon what you see.

Matt has somehow gotten Minnie out of her booster seat and into his arms, and she is octopus clinging to him. Her face is pressed into his neck, one ear on his shoulder, while he keeps his hand clamped over the other. He's lightly bouncing her in his arm as she cries against him and part of you becomes extremely distressed at seeing someone else comfort your child.

You push that away quickly to hurry forward and hold up the headband, "I've got it."

Matt nods, then turns his focus back to Minnie. He noses her hair, and you can just barely hear him over her, "It's okay, baby, Mommy has your headband. We're gonna make it quiet. I know it hurts, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."

You hesitate before stepping towards them. Minnie doesn't flail or pull away as you maneuver the headband and get it over both her ears. It feels so awkward to do as she cries and once it is on her head and over her ears, she reaches up and yanks on it until it is in place. Then she flops back down into the crook of Matt's neck, still crying but somehow not as urgently.

You are unsure of what to do, but everything in you screams to touch your child, so you shuffle close to Matt until you can put a comforting hand on her back.

"I'm right here, baby, it's okay," you whisper, gently rubbing a small circle along her spine.

Matt shifts slightly, and the hand that was covering Minnie's ear drops and he instead wraps it around your waist and pulls you closer, so you are flush against him, with Minnie between the two of you.

That seems to help with whatever has upset Minnie so much. She stays clinging to Matt while he oh so gently sways you back and forth. Her screeching dies down to tired-upset crying and you know she's going to keep going until she passes out.

To your absolute amazement, Matt doesn't seem deterred at all. He keeps his nose buried into his daughter's hair, talking quietly to her as she sobs, "It's okay. Shhhh, shhh. Feel my heartbeat, sweetie. Focus on that. The bad noise will stop soon, I promise. Just listen to your Mommy and I."

You have no idea what he is talking about - what the bad noise is - but it's calming Minnie down, so you let him keep going. You keep your hand on her back, gently doing your own 'shhh'ing, trying to encourage her to calm even more.

"That's my good girl," Matt hums, before giving her the briefest kiss against her temple. "Do you want to go to Mommy now?"

You don't hear Minnie respond, but she must in some way because soon enough she is being transferred into your arms. She clings to you loosely and you can feel her little body starting to droop. She must be close to wearing herself out.

She makes a little upset whine between her huffing and puffing, and you instantly take up gently bouncing her like Matt has been doing. Matt stays wrapped around both of you, taking over your role of rubbing Minnie's back.

You don't know how long you stay there, curled together and soothing Minnie, both of you whispering little words of love and comfort to your daughter.

You think you are past the worst of it, but of course that isn't the case.

Minnie starts squirming and fussing, reaching up and pressing at her ears over her headband. You look up to Matt, to see his reaction and your heart runs cold and fear spikes in you.

He looks absolutely murderous.

He's lifted his head and it is turned towards your living room, his brows scrunched and a scowl on his lips. You instinctively hug Minnie tight to you, but you quickly realize you have nothing to fear.

He stalks across your living room to your open window and yanks it shut. Right away, Minnie loops her arms back around your neck and settles with a sleepy sniffle. You press your face into her, rocking her a little more.

"I've got you, Mouse. It's okay. Mommy's right here."

You don't jump when Matt's hand brushes along your back and he once again wraps you in his arms. You allow yourself to turn ever so slightly and tuck yourself closer, lowering your head so it leans just barely against his shoulder, with Minnie hidden between your bodies.

You feel safe in that moment. You're confused why Minnie got so upset so suddenly and you're confused at how Matt knew how to handle it, but you feel safe, and even more so when Matt's arms tighten around you.

"I've got you both," he practically breathes against you. "I won't let anything get you. I'm here now. I've got you."

You close your eyes as the panic and adrenaline washes away from you and the exhaustion of your day starts to catch up to you. You very much understand how rubbing Minnie's back helps her sleep - Matt's started to drag his fingers up and down your spine and you know it could lull you into Dreamland.

Minnie's cries turn into sniffles and then quickly turn into quiet snores as the minutes pass.

You stay still until you are one hundred percent sure she's gone to the world before pulling back just slightly, and whisper, "I should go lay her down."

Your face is so close to Matt's you can practically taste his breath and your heart starts to pound at the realization of it.

You don't know if it is on account of your words or if he was also aware how tangled up the two of you were, but Matt drops his arms and steps away from you, nodding, "Yeah, she sounds pretty sleep now."

You chew your lip, not liking how your arms are suddenly chilly, but don't acknowledge it, "I'll be right back."

You turn and grab Scooby and Pig, knowing another tantrum will happen if your daughter wakes up alone, and head towards the bedroom. It is surprisingly easy to get her to let go of you and you deposit Minnie into her bed. You place her toys beside her and tuck her in, careful to not jostle her. You dare to kiss her forehead before pulling away.

As you turn to leave your bedroom, your window catches your eye. It is closed, but in front of it is a little table.

Just like in your living room. There is a table under the window, with more than a few knick knacks on it.

Your brow furrows and you return to the main living area. Matt has found his way back to the table and is drinking his glass of wine.

"Is she good?" He asks, setting down his glass and turning to face you.

"She didn't wake up at all, I think she's down for the count," you say, glancing towards where your window is before looking back to Matt. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," is his instant reply. You take a moment to look him over, from his fluffy hair, to the tomato sauce now on his shirt, to his fancy loafers, before returning to his handsome face.

"Matt…how did you know where the window is?"

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium @

two-unbeatable-beaters

#soulie writes #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #and then i met you

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Note

could you do a spencer x daughter reader comfort for grade stress? my grades are a lot lower than normal and i feel awful :(

you’re an amazing writer much love <3

'$20 and a completely unabridged gossip session about my love life if you can hack into my school's system and change my grades...'

'Baby genius!' Penelope scolds, in response to what you personally believe was a very fair and enticing offer, 'I can't! I don't do bad hacking anymore, I only do the good kind :)'

'It would be good for me to not have these grades.' You type back, smearing an exasperated hand over your face. You swear you nearly drag your skin right off, and you consider attempting to do so, maybe you wouldn't have to go to school anymore if you were just a skeleton-face.

'I'm sure you're freaking out over nothing, wonder baby,' Penelope responds, full of all of her usual optimism that sickens you now, 'You of all people don't need to be worrying about your grades.'

She's wrong. Now you do, now your grades have inexplicably taken a nosedive, dropping into uncharted territory. With a father that attended college at the ripe age of twelve, you feel severely disappointing. You're not following in his footsteps, you've lost the outline of his sneakers and you're traipsing through mud trying to locate them aagin.

You don't bother responding; you're not even sure what you'd say. You don't even consider the ramifications of her saying no to your scheme, being that the world's biggest gossip knows you're upset about your grades and she's not bound to confidentiality by any suspicious illegal activity.

Which means that when your dad gets home, he heads straight for your room.

"Hi, angel," Spencer leans down to hug you over the back of your desk chair, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. It's the same kiss he's planted on you every day since you came into the world, "Penelope said you're having school trouble?"

Your stomach drops and you groan, "That snitch."

"Hey!' Spencer scoffs, "She's the one that always spoils your birthday presents 'cause you give her puppy eyes. You use her poor secret-keeping abilities to your benefit just as much as the rest of us."

"It's nothing," You're still glancing blankly at your homework, keeping your eyes away from your dad so that you don't have to see his face. You try to brush him off before he directly asks what your grades are, "I'm just having a bad week or something."

"A bad week doesn't impact your grades that much," Spencer hums suspiciously, "And your teacher doesn't even put in grades until the week after you submit assignments, so this week being bad wouldn't have changed your grade yet. What's really going on?"

"I don't know," You confess, and you're glad he understands it's the truth and not another half-hearted excuse. He catches the wavering in your voice and knows you're being honest with him, and he can practically feel the cartoonish crack running down his heart, splitting it in two.

"Alright," He soothes, setting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing at its tense muscles lightly, "We'll figure it out. I'll help you, okay?"

"I don't want your help," You lament, tears stinging painfully at your eyes, "You- you know everything, and I don't want to hear how many times you have to correct me. I don't want to see what I should be while being reminded that I'm not."

There's a long bout of silence where your dad's hand lingers on your shoulder, the only reminder that he's still there. It's like he's stopped breathing altogether, air caught in his throat as his brain tries coming up with a solution.

"I don't want you to be like me." He confesses, and the tears stay in place at the corners of your eyes, waiting for a cue to fall.

"I'm... It was hard growing up and being different. It's hard now being different. Morgan still scoffs whenever I talk too much, and we've been friends for years. JJ cuts me off every time I go on a tangent. People aren't nice to anyone who's different."

"But that doesn't matter," You whimper, hands flying to your face to push against your eyelids like you could squeeze your tears back inside, "You aced classes, you got into college super young, you got a high profile job, you're successful, and-"

"-and if I had to choose one thing about my life to carry over into the next, none of those would be it." Your dad cuts you off, moving to pry your hands away from your eyes. He smooths his thumbs over your eyelids, softening the sting from your aggressive touches.

"Y/N," He starts, honey-colored eyes dripping with love as he stares at you from his spot perched on your bed, "All the knowledge in the world doesn't make you happy. Knowing what chemicals are attributed to love doesn't mean you feel it. Knowing what poets have written about love doesn't mean you get to experience it for yourself. I don't want you to know everything," He explains, drying a tear with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, "I want you to be happy, to be loved. And you are smart," He promises, "-just because you don't understand the material you're getting, or you aren't doing your homework, or you're overloaded with assignments so that your grades drop doesn't mean you're not smart."

"Dad," Your face crumples, your eyes squeezing shut tight as tears drip from their corners. He guides you into his embrace with a hand on the back of your head and you let him control where your weight lands, slumping into his stomach pitifully.

He rubs down your back with his free hand, letting the one shelter your face against his button-up.

"I love you," He murmurs, and you can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. You press your ear into it, so your brain soaks up the words, "Even if you're having trouble memorizing the..." He peers down at your paper, "-amendments to the Constitution. Okay, well, you really should know those. We'll work on it, honey."

"Okay," You can't help the weak laugh that shakes your shoulders at his reaction, and he smiles sweetly down at you when you break away, not an ounce of judgement in his eyes that are twinkling with fondness instead.

"Now," He pats your back, straightening up from where he'd been slightly hunched over to rub soothing circles into the fabric of your shirt, "Let's talk about how you're encouraging Penelope to commit cyber crimes for you."

"Uh," You grimace, glancing back quickly at your revision sheet, "I plead the... fifth?"

"That's-" Spencer looks away, biting his lip to conceal his laugh, "That's good. That's bad, don't do that. But that's good. You know number five. That's a start."

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onepiecestarry · 1 month ago

Text

A Different Kind of Pirate - Part 8

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, I went back to school and tbh nobody told me my second year in college or engineering would be this hard (they definitely did). But I’m making it thru! Only two more weeks T-T. But I checked on this story and saw 1.2k reads and never would’ve thought anyone would read this let alone that many of you (literally gonna cry). And I loved reading your comments. So here I am to update! I am sorry it took so long but I promise to actually finish it this time :) XOXO

Fluff, 1.7k words, lots of plot points glossed over from the manga/anime (sorry!)

Zoro x Reader

Masterlist

Part 8: A Samurai and a Florist

The next day you all convene to discuss the plan going forward. As you sit you watch Zoro making your tea, just how you like it, and coming to sit next to you, handing you your tea and placing his free arm around you. You lean into him quietly sipping on your tea while you wait for the rest of the crew. Once everyone was there Kin’emon started.

“We must go to Zou to reunite with your crew and find my friend! We will stop at Zou and continue to Wano after reuniting with everyone.” He exclaims.

The plans continue with the usual mapping and joking around. You all were not worried about getting to Zou, especially with Sanji there first to check everything out.

---- (Time skip past Zou events)

After the long process of getting to Zou, fighting, not fighting, fighting again, realizing Sanji’s gone, and finding Kin’emon’s friend was over you all realized you needed another plan.

“Alright, guys!” Nami yells at everyone sitting in a circle talking to get their attention. “Let's figure this out.” She says with a worried but determined look. “Okay we need to split up, half of us will go with Law’s crew and kin’emon and co. to Wano, and the other half will take the Sunny to Big Mom to get Sanji back, we just need to figure out who.” She explains.

“I’m going to get Sanji,” Luffy says with an unnaturally serious look on his face.

“Count me in too!” Says Brook, Chopper, Usopp, and some Minx.

“Okay, I’ll go with you guys to navigate the Sunny.

“Count me out, I ain’t savin' that shitty cook’s shitty life,” Zoro says leaning back on a tree. “And y/n is coming with me, the celestial dragons can’t get to her on Wano.” You hum in agreement at his statement.

“Alright then I think Zoro, y/n, Robin, and Frankie should go with Law, and we will all meet back up in Wano,” Nami says.

Everyone agrees and we all begin to pack to leave Zou. You become uneasy as you realize you’ll have to work with Law, nervous he’ll be upset about your last conversation. But you quickly shake it off knowing it can’t be avoided.

You get to Law’s ship with everyone else, Zoro is unusually close to you. You look up at him with a confused look as if asking ‘What’s up?’. He just nods over to Law and you nod in response, understanding he’s keeping him away from you.

Bepo showed you and the rest of the strawhats to an extra room you’d be using to sleep while traveling. As you walk in you see two small twin beds and two hammocks, four places to sleep, and five people.

Robin is already making one of the small beds for herself and Frankie and Usopp are getting comfortable in the hammock, so that leaves Zoro and you to the last twin bed. He didn’t even flinch, already on the bed getting comfortable and falling asleep. You giggle to yourself as you push him over to make room for yourself.

----

The days flew by quickly on your way to Wano, Zoro made sure that Law never came close to you, not that you were worried if he did. On the last day, you finally arrived, finding a cove to hide Law’s ship in and hiking up to a remote area to discuss your next steps.

That’s when Kin’emon revealed the reason you all were there, and how he and his friends had gotten there too. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but of course, Zoro had no reaction. You look at him dumbfounded that he's not the least bit confused or surprised.

“What? We’ve heard crazier.” He says nonchalantly.

“Have we?” You cross your arms in questioning.

“No, not at all.” He says leaning back on a rock. You giggle at his demeanor.

Your attention is taken from Zoro as Kin’emon starts to describe his plan.

“We will have all of you go undercover and spread these flyers to anyone with the crescent tattoo on their ankle. This message they will understand. Frankie, you will go undercover as a craftsman apprentice, and see if you can retrieve the blueprints of Kaido’s mansion from your boss. Robin, you will go undercover as a Geisha, your mission is to get close to the Shogun. Usopp, you will be a salesman and you will spread the flyers in the capitol. Zoro and y/n, you both will go undercover together as a samurai and flower shop owner. y/n I am putting Zoro with you to ensure he will not cause trouble as a foreign swordsman.” You giggle at Kin’emon’s comment.

“Hey! I don’t get into trouble… that often” Zoro whispers the last part. You laugh at his defense.

Kin’emon begins to hand out locations of apartments and houses we may stay at as well as stacks of flyers to hand out. Kin’emon then gives you all the clothes and hairstyles to fit in.

---

As you walk through the busy streets of the flower capital you smell all the delicious food stands nearby, watching people rush from building to building, as well as others on a casual stroll. You notice Zoro is beginning to turn in the wrong direction, so to prevent him from getting lost you grab his hand.

“I am not dealing with your directionless ass right now pretty boy, stay with me for the love of-”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice,” he says smirking down at you, making it obvious how okay he is with holding your hand.

You both continue to walk around looking for your assigned house, eventually finding it and entering. You look around at the sad wood falling apart, and the floor with torn mats.

“I guess that’ll make do.” You sigh. “Where’s the beds?” You question looking around.

“You mean bed. And probably a futon in the closet.” Zoro says looking through the cabinets in the kitchen.

You laugh at his correction of you and go to look for the futon, eventually finding it and setting it up with fresh sheets.

“Any food in there?” you yell over to Zoro.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Zoro says back.

“Alright, I guess we’ll have to go out and get some then. You sigh.

You make your way past the kitchen heading for the front door, but before you can take another step you are grabbed by your waist and twirled facing the other direction with Zoro leaning down towards your face, with a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going.” He says teasingly.

“To the flower shop to see what I’m dealing with, and to get some food for dinner.” You lightly hit his chest, giggling.

“Hmm, I’ll come with.” He says letting you go.

---

Once you get to your stall, you realize that it's already stocked with most things you’d need thankfully. Suddenly the woman in the stall next to you comes over to speak to you.

“Hello darling, are you both new in town?” She says sweetly looking between you and Zoro.

“Yes, we are, we just got married and decided to move to the capital from our home village,” Zoro says before you could even think of responding. Realizing what he said, your cheeks flush pink at his words.

“Aw how cute, you two make a great couple, I must say. You will make beautiful children one day I’m sure.” The older woman says innocently smiling at the two of you. You nearly choke on air at her words, but Zoro hides you behind him, thanking the woman while ushering her back to her stall.

He comes back to you stuffing your face in your kimono’s sleeves hiding your bright red face. He lets out a hard laugh, grabbing your face and moving it to look at him, only making you blush harder. You lightly slap his arms away and begin to ready your flower stall as he laughs watching you.

You both decide to return home after “borrowing” some food, as Zoro calls it. You immediately begin to prep dinner when you return, making some rice and cutting some vegetables. Zoro announces he’s going to shower, you hum in response.

Suddenly, you turned around and pressed up against the counter with Zoro’s arms on either side of you. You get flustered at his actions trying to look away. Zoro leans down and whispers in your ear, “Want to join me, wife?” He asks in a deep tone. You freeze at his offer, face flushed with pink once again. He laughs at your reaction and backs off retreating to the bathroom. You quickly return to cutting vegetables to take your mind off it.

You finished making dinner as Zoro exited the bathroom. “Hey, dinner ready, go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring you a-” You stammer as you turn to look at a freshly showered Zoro with a towel barely hanging off his hips, leaving not much to the imagination. You stare for a good few seconds before you realize he’s laughing at you.

You set the small table while he changes, making sure to give him a nice large portion. As he sits down he looks at the food you made.

“Wait is this curry?” He asks excitedly.

“Yeah, I figured it would be easy and filling.” You casually say beginning to eat.

“I fucking love curry.” He says inhaling all of his food. You laugh at him, happy to know he likes the food you made.

Once you both finished, he washed the dishes while you showered. After your shower, you sat on the edge of the futon thinking about the day, when Zoro came in and practically tackled you down onto the bed. Both of you laughing as you recovered.

He grabbed onto your waist pulling you closer as you both go to bed. “Goodnight wife.” He whispers before you hear his soft snores filling the room. You melt into his touch at the thought of how much he loves to call you that, eventually allowing yourself to get lost in the comfort of sleep.

#opla zoro #one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #zoro one piece #zoro x reader #one piece #zoro smut #zoro x you #zoro #zoro x reader smut #roronazoro #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #one piece x you #one piece smut

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fear-is-truth · 2 months ago

Text

⋆𐙚 ₊ pregnancy announcement .ᐟ

requested by anon

ft. kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ kai anderson ‧ rory monahan ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would be stunned at first, eyes widening as he processes the news. but a slow smile would spread across his face as he takes it in. a soft joy would fill his expression as he realises he’s about to become a father, and he’d pull you into a big hug.

his protective side would instantly surface. as someone who would do anything to keep his loved ones safe, he’d be extra cautious about your well-being. “tell me if you need anything, alright?” he’d want to make sure you’re comfy and taken care of, going out of his way to handle things so you can rest.

he’d worry about whether he can be a good father. he’d confide in you, saying, “i just hope i can be the dad this little one deserves.” he’d want to do everything right, maybe even overthinking small details about parenting, but he’d be earnest in his desire to give your child a better life.

would immediately start making plans for the future, thinking about practical things like finding a safe place to live, budgeting, and making sure there’s enough space for your growing family. he’d sit down with you to talk about these things, wanting to be responsible and prepare as much as possible.

works extra shifts to earn more money.

he’d become even more attentive, watching out for anything you might need, even if it’s something small. kit would check in on you constantly, asking if you’re okay, if you need anything. insisting on doing things for you, like cooking (or attempting to), lifting things, or making sure you’re relaxed.

hope you don’t get kidnapped by aliens lol

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

completely bewildered, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping slightly. he’d never expect something like this, not now, not while he’s still in college.

nervously laugh, thinking maybe it’s a joke (even though he knew you wouldn’t joke about things like this) . “wait… seriously?”

once he’s wrapped his head around the news, he’d immediately ask, “are you okay? how do you feel?” wanting to make sure you’re not scared or upset.

the second question he’s ask is whether you’d want to keep the baby. he’d respect your decision no matter what. it’s your body, after all.

kyle is a smart and super responsible guy, he’d begin overthinking everything. “oh my god, we need to figure everything out—where are we gonna live? i don’t even have a real job yet!” his mind would fill with thoughts of money, school, and what your parents would say.

he’d want to start planning for the future, but he’d be panicked about how little time you both might have. he’d talk about finishing school quickly, getting a job, saving up, and trying to secure a better living situation.

you’d probably hear him start cracking dad jokes way too soon.

would randomly ask, “do you think the baby will have your eyes?” or “do you think they’ll like sports?” he’d start imagining what kind of person your child will be, picturing what it’ll be like to raise them together, and getting really invested in the idea of being a dad.

⟢ 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐍.

his excitement would be matched by a fierce desire to shield you and the baby from public attention. “we don’t need the whole world in our business,” he’d say, giving you a serious look as he assures you he’ll do everything he can to keep the news private.

though he’s usually very open and upbeat on social media, rory would hold back from posting anything about the pregnancy until he feels it’s the right time. he’d cherish these early moments in private, making sure you’re protected from the stress of the spotlight. if he’s asked by friends or fans, he’d stay low-key, not wanting to give anything away until you both feel ready to share the news.

the two of you would joke and laugh about all the outlandish hollywood baby names out there, making ridiculous suggestions “can you imagine if we named the kid ‘rayleigh moonbeam monahan’?”

when you two finally announce the pregnancy, he’d choose a special photo—you glowing and visibly pregnant or a snapshot of the ultrasound. the caption would be heartfelt like , “just when i thought life couldn’t get any better with you, y/n… along comes our little one to prove me wrong. feeling so grateful, blessed, and ready for this next chapter together. ❤️”

would be adamant about protecting the baby’s identity, using stickers or taking photos from behind to shield your child’s face. he wants them to have a real childhood, not just be “rory monahan’s kid.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

the moment you tell him you’re pregnant, kai’s eyes would light up with an almost crazed joy. he’d instantly see this as the fulfillment of his vision, his grand plan for creating a “messiah baby.”

would immediately assume control over the entire situation. he’d tell you that everything will now revolve around the pregnancy and what this child represents.

would obsess over every detail related to the pregnancy. he’d dictate what you eat, how you exercise, and even what kind of prenatal care you receive, believing that this child must be raised under perfect conditions.

he’d talk about how this child will be the first to be raised in his image, with his values and beliefs. “i’ll teach them everything they need to know. they’ll be stronger, smarter, better than anyone else,” he’d promise. he’d start planning out the child’s entire life before they’re even born, from their education to their role in the movement. (wow. poor kid lol)

despite being an asshole, kai would show an intense devotion to you during the pregnancy. you’re the mother of the messiah, after all. he’d shower you with praise and attention, possibly even becoming more affectionate. say things like, “you’re perfect. you’re giving me the greatest gift anyone could ever give.”

there would be moments where kai’s obsession give way to genuine tenderness. he’d touch your bump with awe, whispering, “i can’t believe it… we’re creating something amazing.” there’d be an almost childlike wonder in his eyes at times, as he’s totally in awe of the life growing inside you.

would be super gentle during sex and even go down on you when you’re horny :)

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

when you tell colin you’re pregnant, he’d froze, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. his expression slowly shifting from shock to wonder. completely lost for words, standing there and struggling to find a response, yet somehow still managing to look at you with pure awe.

then, without warning, he’d swept you up into his arms. “are you serious? we’re going to be parents?” his voice shaking slightly as the reality settled in. then the two of you would kiss deeply, colin holding you close as he tries to pour all his excitement, gratitude, and love into that one kiss.

starts reading up on everything he can about pregnancy, making sure he’s prepared for every step.

he’d sit you down with a notebook and start talking about houses, school districts, and daycare options.

whatever your craving—whether it’s pickles, ice cream, or some random weird food—you can count on him to show up with it, no matter the hour. “got your favourite, plus a backup in case you change your mind,” (colin zabel the man that you are)

would get so invested in learning about babies that you’d find him falling asleep with baby books and parenting guides in his lap. he’d read up on everything from swaddling techniques to tips on managing sleep schedules, wanting to be as prepared as possible.

meticulous about getting everything ready for the baby, safety-proofing the house, researching baby essentials etc. when you start picking out strollers, cribs, and bottles, colin would obsess over quality and safety ratings.

be prepared for dad jokes.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

when you first tell him, he’d literally freeze. *peter.exe has stopped working*. “whoa… wait… a baby? like a real tiny person?” he’d feel overwhelmed, knowing he’s on the verge of a huge life change and trying to wrap his head around what it means to be responsible for another human being.

always ready to run off and get whatever weird snacks you’re in the mood for.

would totally go overboard in the baby shopping department, especially toys and gadgets. he’d bring home all sorts of things that seem way too advanced, like gaming consoles and motorized toys, “look, our kid’s gonna be a tech whiz,” he’d say, holding up the PS5 he bought.

he’d immediately start practicing his dad jokes. “did you hear about the cheese factory explosion? there was de-brie everywhere!”

peter would be driven by a deep desire to be the kind of father he always wished for himself. quiet moments of reflection, probably late at night, thinking about all the ways he can be there for your child. “i’m gonna make sure our kid knows they’re loved every day.” he’d tell you. it’d become a goal he’d never stop working toward, fueled by his love for you and the family you’re about to start together.

#american horror story #ahs #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kit walker #rory monahan #rory monahan x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer #kit walker x you #kit walker x reader #colin zabel #colin zabel x you #kai anderson x y/n

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alicerosejensen · 2 years ago

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A little discussion about Leon and the young Reader

These are just my headcannons, which may differ from yours. I must say right away that Leon is generally my favorite character, but the favorites are Vendetta, RE6 and ID, so all my headcannons are related to the fact that he is already 35-40 years old. And no, I don't think he's old! This person is like a good wine, it only gets better over the years!

- Firstly, the initiative in the relationship does not necessarily have to come only from you. Leon may be ten years older, and the question of age will not bother much if he is really attached to you.

- At first it may be another attempt at light flirting, to which you can react positively (Leon is the god of flirting, I'm sure) or you can just let him know that you are uncomfortable with this behavior. If excessive flirting causes concern, then Leon will calmly take it and continue to be more restrained in communicating with you, although you can still hear a compliment from him that will make you blush, but nothing obscene!

- Leon will be touched if you're small. He will specially put a box of your favorite cookies on the top shelf to watch you try to get it. In the end, he will still give you everything you need by making a sarcastic comment like, "Hold it, my little goblin.”

- He will be happy if you are on the same wavelength with him.

"Leon may laugh at you, but it's never offensive. He loves you and, having offended you even accidentally with a careless word, will thereby harm himself. Damn it, this man will blame himself for what he said for a long time and try to make amends.

- It's unlikely that this man will ever become a daddy, but he definitely likes to spoil you. Seriously, the DSO pays him too well for taking risks at work, so he will happily buy you what you like to please you. New boots or a handbag that you saw in the window, but can't afford? no problem. You'll get them. In addition, Leon will bring you cute souvenirs that reminded him of you during the mission. He makes gifts completely unselfishly, but loves to get a response. Just kiss him.

- The best gift for him will be taking care of him. He will never talk about it, but he likes it when you massage his head or shoulders. Smear the bruises with ointment? be sure to kiss the sore spot, and he will die of happiness and love for you! He feels awkward, but he is pleased with your attention, let it be small things, it means a lot to him.

- Leon likes to listen to your heartbeat. It calms him down after a mission with a bunch of zombies. He's very afraid of losing you.

- Leon has a problem with alcohol, but he would never drink in your presence unless you have a romantic dinner. However, it will upset him if you come drunk from a party with friends. For the most part, he is worried that you may be taken advantage of in this state, so he tries to take you away from such events.

- And punch that freak in the nose who has the nerve to molest you.

"Leon doesn't mind dancing with you at home when you're drunk.

“Just go to sleep, baby. Tomorrow morning won't be so fun anymore”

- The absolute god in caring for a partner. He knows the hangover syndrome, so he will do everything to make it easier for you.

- Since you are younger than him, Leon is not always up to date with current trends. Sometimes he may not understand modern slang, but he is not averse to learning something new if it is “something" within reason.

- He's not usually jealous, but sometimes he worries that you might find someone younger than him. Most often it happens when you talk to guys from your college or at parties where you dance.

- Of course, he will never accuse you of communicating with friends, but there will be moments when your male friends will annoy him.

- Sometimes Leon Scott Kennedy is a real possessive .

"Sleep with him in your arms?" Get ready for the fact that you will be securely and firmly pressed to Mr. Kennedy's chest while his head is on top of your head, and no, he will not let you go unless you urgently need to go to the toilet.

- You sleep in his shirts.

“It's all right. You can take my clothes, angel.”

- Leon will teach you how to shoot a gun. Seriously, he's so worried about you that he'd rather play it safe again and teach you basic self-defense skills if he's not around to protect you. It's okay if you misunderstood something. He has enough patience to teach you everything you need.

- Leon loves hugs.

- Most likely, he does not know how to cook, so he will be glad if you take this responsibility on yourself. Homemade food is something that reminds him of his childhood and the few happy moments he had.

"He likes that you smell like his cologne." He will specifically hug you for a long time so that the smell persists as long as possible.

- He feels younger with you. No, Leon doesn't consider himself too old, but he definitely remembers that young guy who recently graduated from the police academy. This helps him not to fall into melancholy.

- I don't think he will tell you about his work. It's not that he feels any distrust, he just wants to keep you away from all this shit.

- You are the sunshine for him.

"Take a shower with you?" He has neither the strength nor the desire to refuse you.

- A thousand and one cute nicknames for you? No problem!

“Angel, princess, sunshine, sweetheart are the most favorite.”

- This person cares about his loved ones, so if you, oh my God, are sick! be prepared for excessive guardianship. Leon will buy you all the necessary medicines and even pay for the services of a doctor.

- Seeing you cry hurts him. He will do everything to find the reason, but he won't put pressure on you if you don't want to talk about it yet. Most likely, he will gently direct you to a conversation, but if you don't trust him for some reason, then it will hurt him again.

- It won't be difficult for Leon to watch a stupid talk show or a banal movie with you. Just be prepared for the fact that he will not be too talkative while watching, and then throw out a whole bunch of comments about the stupidest moments.

- He is not verbose, especially after completing tasks. Don't get angry and don't judge him. Just stay close to him: pat him on the back, press your whole body against him and say something affectionate. This will cheer him up, although he may not show it.

- You can be calm - this person will never hit you. Hell, he'd rather put a bullet in his head, but he wouldn't let himself or anyone else hurt you.

I apologize in advance for the mistakes made. English is not my first language, but I love Leon too much and I never have enough content about him.

#leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #headcanon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #resident evil x reader #reader #resident evil vendetta

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keehomania · 4 months ago

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hello! can I please ask for dom xiaojun with afab reader and creampie stuff? i felt like not many story abt him here

SWEET HOME — XIÀO DÉJÙN (肖德俊) (18+)

✧ MDNI (NSFW)

why did people endure the bad life threw at them? why was the path ahead always so rocky? you crossed all the bridges laid out for you, not for the thrill of the journey, but for one reason and one reason only—to reach the other side. the other side was always promised to be warmer, more forgiving, more welcoming. the other side kissed scarred knuckles and brought life back to weak pulse points. it held the kind of peace that made you believe the hardships were just a fleeting dream, a memory easily forgotten in the haze of new beginnings.

but the truth lingered, no matter how hard you tried to forget. the hardships were real. they were carved into the person you’d become, shaping you like clay pressed under relentless hands. they were the reason you could stand tall now, feet firmly planted on the ground, even when everything inside felt like it was floating, uncertain. they were the cruel, quiet moments of crying into your hands, panicking over assignments left undone, opportunities missed. you were in your senior year—why hadn’t you done more? why hadn’t you pushed yourself harder, sought out those extra credits that could’ve given you some sense of security? the weight of that regret felt unbearable sometimes, pressing down on your chest until you could barely breathe.

and then came the anxiety. the thick, consuming realization that college acceptance meant more than just a new chapter in your life—it meant you were no longer anybody’s little girl. you were no longer wrapped in the warmth and familiarity of your sweet home, no longer protected by those walls that had once made the world outside seem so far away. now, it was right in front of you, towering and daunting, filled with the unknown. a new place, new people, new responsibilities. it was all so unfamiliar, and you weren’t used to any of it.

falling in love for the first time was supposed to be beautiful, wasn’t it? that’s what everyone said—love was the one thing that was supposed to make everything better. but how could something so beautiful be so terrifying? why did it feel like every emotion was heightened, every glance, every word loaded with meaning? why was déjùn ignoring you when just last week, he had been everything you needed? why were you so mad at him, when you couldn’t even remember what had sparked the argument in the first place?

the cycle was exhausting. déjùn would get worried, you’d get upset. you’d break up, convinced it was the end, only to stalk each other like prey around campus, neither one of you willing to fully let go. and then, inevitably, you’d make up, but it never seemed to get any easier. somehow, no matter how broken things felt, life never kept you too far apart. maybe there was a reason for that. there was.

there was a reason. a reason that went deeper than anything fate could’ve scripted for you. it wasn’t just about watching déjùn smile or listening to his voice as he mumbled sleepily into your neck on those nights where time seemed to slow, letting you savor every heartbeat. no, it was more than that. it was to warm the hands that kept you going, to shelter the body that melted so perfectly against yours, as if you’d been carved from the same stone. the reason transcended the simple notion of destiny; it went beyond what the universe might have planned for you both.

you knew it when you saw him cry for the first time, and everything changed. he was always the composed one—the one who kept it together when the world felt like it was unraveling. his cool exterior never faltered, or at least, that’s what you thought until the night it all fell apart. it happened in your dorm, the quiet, familiar space suddenly feeling like a place for unraveling instead of refuge. he had broken down in front of you like he hadn’t in front of anyone else. the sobs came from deep within him, raw and uncontrolled, shaking his body in a way that left you speechless.

he had sat on your bed, hands covering his face, broken sobs echoing off the walls. His whole body shuddered with each breath, the pain pouring out of him like a dam had finally burst. you didn’t know why. he never told you, and you never asked. you never had to. it wasn’t the words that mattered in that moment, it was the feeling, the weight of his pain heavy enough to crush both of you. and so you wept with him. his tears fell, unfiltered, washing over your heart, the same heart that beat for him without hesitation.

you had held him, arms wrapped around his shaking frame, fingers tangled in his hair, and cried until his sobs finally quieted. until his breathing evened out, and the room fell silent again, save for the occasional hitch in his breath. but even that moment—intimate, raw, and unforgettable—wasn’t the full reason. the reason went beyond every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise he had never once broken. he had given you a home in his arms, a place where you belonged, where the rest of the world didn’t matter. and you were determined to give him that same home, something tangible, something sweet that he could call his own.

the house was more than just a dream. it was real, a piece of you given to him. nestled between the fields and the trees, with a creek nearby and a church hidden deep within the forest. the barn and pens were close, but they never reeked of animals. instead, the air smelled of freshwater and lilies, just like you had always imagined it would. the subtle scent of freshly baked bread lingered from the home bakery nearby, the kind of smell that made your stomach rumble in anticipation.

the house itself was two stories, painted in a soft white that reflected the sun’s warmth. but it wasn’t just white—it was touched with dabs of his favorite color. that dear green of his, the one that reminded you of life and renewal, stained the edges of the house in delicate patterns, blending into the scenery in a way that felt right, not overdone. the front steps led up to a porch where a swing swayed gently, waiting for the two of you to sit on it together, watching the sky stretch out before you. lamps stood at every corner, offering light even in the house’s darkest moments, casting a glow that felt as comforting as his presence beside you.

inside, the hallway stretched long, tiled floors echoing the soft sound of your footsteps. at the end of the hall, the bathroom sat to the right, perfectly positioned for convenience, though you barely noticed those details now. the front door led to the stairs, winding up to the second floor where your future awaited. through the door at the end of the hallway, the kitchen and living room intertwined, open and welcoming. only a small, dainty dining table separated the two spaces, enough to give the illusion of division but keeping the warmth of the home intact.

it was a place meant for sharing, for filling with memories. you could already picture yangyang sprawled across the couch, controllers in hand, keeping déjùn company when you were too busy. the boys would all gather here, because it was home. it wasn’t just a house—it was the place he had always needed, filled with laughter and warmth, with the scent of lilies and bread and the sound of friends filling the space with life. the first time he saw it, his eyes welled up, and he broke down again, not in pain this time, but in pure, unfiltered joy. you cried with him, standing there on the porch, the two of you holding each other in the doorway of the life you had built together. it was everything he had ever wanted, and it was given to him by the only person he had ever truly needed.

you stood by the stove, the warm, cozy glow of the kitchen wrapping around you like a familiar hug. the room was your sanctuary, every little detail curated to your liking, but there were traces of déjùn everywhere. a coffee mug he always used, a soft green tea towel he’d picked out, even the way the pots were arranged had his influence. it was a constant reminder that he was always there, woven into every corner of your life. you could feel him in the air, in the way the sun filtered through the windows, and in the gentle way the house creaked, as though it was alive with both of your memories.

you were making one of his favorites—peanut noodles with chili crisp. the rich scent filled the air as you prepped, hands working deftly, slicing and mixing with a practiced ease. a batch of iced green tea waited for him in the fridge, the condensation slowly forming on the glass, just the way he liked it. everything you did for him was done with care, every detail proving the love that pulsed through you. it had always been this way. every action, every gesture, was imbued with a purpose, because everything you did was for him.

you were so immersed in it, focused on the rhythm of your movements, that you hadn’t heard him come in. he stood there, just behind you, watching quietly. he didn’t want to intrude, but the scent had drawn him in, and now the sight of you convinced him to stay. you looked so pretty. your hair was tied up in a loose bun, strands falling just out of place, framing your face in a way that made you glow. your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips, soft and pink, pouted just slightly as you worked. a pink apron tied neatly at your back over your sundress, making you look both delicate and capable all at once. you were perfect.

he couldn’t believe he had you—couldn’t believe that someone so good, so kind, was his. the sight of you, standing there in your shared kitchen, cooking for him in a house that may not have been made by you, but had been turned into a home because of you. the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, of anyone else getting even a glimpse of you, stirred something possessive deep inside him. no one deserved that. no one but him.

you didn’t notice his presence until you felt it—his warmth, his breath ghosting over your ear, so close it made the hairs on your neck stand up. your body tensed for a moment, but then you softened, melting into his familiar touch. a smile tugged at your lips as you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you close. “everything okay?” you murmured, your voice soft, your expression relaxed now that he was near. his arms tightened around you, and you felt his face press into the crook of your neck, the closeness sending a wave of warmth over you.

your voice was like honey to him, sweet and soothing. you felt so small in his grasp, so helpless in the best way possible. his presence was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way, and you loved it. he made you feel safe but also powerless, as though the mere act of him holding you was enough to remind you who you belonged to. “i love you so much,” déjùn murmured against your skin, his voice low, breath hot as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice shaky, hands trembling slightly around the knife you still held. the sensation of his lips on your neck, the possessiveness of his hold, it was too much. you didn’t even realize how much your hands were shaking until his fingers, large and sure, gently closed around yours, guiding the knife out of your grip and setting it on the counter. his touch was careful, but there was no mistaking the dominance in it. he took your hand into his, long fingers wrapping around your much smaller ones, grounding you.

“i'm almost done, okay?” you asked, trying to steady your breath, trying to focus on anything but the heat pooling low in your stomach.

his response was a quiet, “i'm not patient enough,” his voice was gravelly, deeper now, filled with something darker, as his lips found the curve of your neck again. this time, he didn’t stop. “i'm not patient enough to resist you,” he said, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, gripping you firmly as he turned you around in one fluid motion. a surprised yelp escaped your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by the intensity of his gaze. his fingers spread over your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress, teasingly close to where you were already aching for him. he lifted you effortlessly, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist. “so pretty,” déjùn murmured, his voice soft but filled with adoration as he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, his lips wet and warm. “aren't you?”

you were flushed, the heat creeping up from your chest to your face, and all you could do was nod, unable to form coherent words as his lips found yours. the kiss wasn’t hurried or sloppy; it was purposeful. his lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your knees weak, though you didn’t need to stand. he was holding you, carrying you with ease as he walked, never breaking the kiss as he made his way up the stairs.

by the time you reached the bedroom, your breathing had quickened, but he was steady, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing the threshold with a grin that made your heart flutter. when he laid you down on the bed, his body hovered over yours, his hands trailing down to your thighs once more. his touch was electric, and all you could do was let yourself melt into him, the weight of the world disappearing as his lips claimed yours again.

the kiss deepened, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, as if savoring each moment, each taste of you. his hands, though gentle, had a strength that made you feel small beneath him, yet cherished. his fingers, impossibly long and deft, found the apron tied over your dress, pulling at the knot with ease. the fabric loosened and fell away, forgotten, as his attention shifted to the way your knees bent, your legs spreading just slightly, enough for him to notice the hitch in your breath.

his eyes followed the movement, lingering where your dress had bunched up, revealing the soft cotton of your pink panties. his gaze dropped to the faint dampness staining the fabric, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, his touch feather-light but sending a ripple of anticipation through your body.

“what do you want, baby?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, as his thumb pressed lightly against your bottom lip. the question hung in the air between you, heavy and full of promise, but the words you wanted to say tangled in your throat. you let out a small, pathetic whimper, your mouth parting slightly as his thumb pushed past your lips, pressing against your tongue.

“you know i’ll give my girl whatever she wants if she uses her words, right?” he murmured, his tone teasing but affectionate, the dark timber of it wrapping around you like a velvet rope. his thumb pressed deeper, your lips wrapping around the knuckle as you instinctively closed your mouth around him. the weight of his finger, the intimacy of it, made your breath hitch, a broken sound escaping your throat as you struggled to find your voice. you nodded, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as his thumb pressed further into your mouth, deeper until it filled the space, until he was satisfied. your teeth grazed lightly against his skin as you tried to speak around him, your voice muffled, rasping out a soft, desperate plea. “want you, xiao, please.”

his eyes darkened at your words, his free hand cupping your cheek as his thumb finally withdrew, leaving you gasping for breath. his gaze roamed over your face, taking in the tears clinging to your lashes, the flush of your cheeks, the way your lips were swollen and parted. his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had slipped free, his lips curving into a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach the hunger in his eyes. “god, you’re too much,” he murmured, his voice thick with something darker, something possessive. his hand slipped down to your waist, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just above your panties. your breath hitched again, the sensation of his fingers so close to where you needed him most almost unbearable.

déjùn's knuckle grazed over your clothed pussy, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your nails dig into his arm. your fingertips brushed against the prominent veins running down his forearm, feeling his pulse beneath your touch. you were aching, desperate for more, but just when you thought he'd finally give you what you craved, he stopped. the loss of contact made your body tense with frustration, and you pouted, your lips parting in disappointment. he caught your expression and smiled, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your thigh. his touch was gentle, teasing, as he asked, “can you do something for me?”

you nodded eagerly, desperate for him to stop teasing, to finally get on with what you both so clearly wanted. “take everything off,” he said, his voice low, thick with desire, “and put your apron back on.”

the request caught you off guard, a moment of surprise flashing in your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to the thought. the sight of you in nothing but the apron—cooking for him, being his—was enough to drive him insane. it made you feel delicate, pretty, like you belonged to him completely. you could feel your pulse quickening at the idea, the excitement building as you imagined how his gaze would devour you.

standing on the bed, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of your sundress. déjùn was on his knees beneath you, his hands gently guiding you, helping to pull the fabric over your head. his lips followed the path of your dress as it lifted, leaving soft, lingering kisses down your stomach, his nose brushing against your skin. when the fabric pooled at your feet, his lips reached the top of your thighs, kissing just above your panties, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. the ache between his legs was becoming unbearable, the sight of you, the taste of your skin—it was overwhelming. hos hands slid up the back of your thighs, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

your hands were shy, hesitant, as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. the strap loosened, and déjùn’s hands were quick to pull it down, his eyes dark with desire as the material fell away. he leaned upward, his lips finding the bare skin of your breast, his tongue darting out to trace slow, tantalizing circles around your nipple. a soft moan escaped your lips, your back arching slightly as his mouth closed over you, sucking gently. “keep going, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your nipple. his voice was low, laced with hunger, urging you on.

you did as you were told, your fingers trembling as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. déjùn's mouth left your breast, but his hand replaced it, groping and tugging at the sensitive flesh as he shifted his attention lower. he was utterly entranced by the sweet smell of your core, the way your body trembled as you exposed yourself to him. his free hand moved to spread your thighs apart, his fingers gentle but firm, guiding you to open for him. his lips brushed against your inner thigh, trailing soft kisses as he moved closer to where you needed him most. you could feel his breath hot against your folds, his nose grazing your entrance, teasing you, making you shake beneath his touch.

“xiao—” you began to beg, your voice a broken whisper, but he cut you off with a soft shush, his lips brushing against your thigh as he did. the vibration of his voice shot straight through you, making your core tighten in anticipation. “almost there,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing, but full of promise. you let out a small whimper, your hips shifting slightly, aching for him to stop teasing. but instead of giving in, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your thigh, his nose brushing dangerously close to your core without touching. he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of your arousal, and it took everything in him to resist the temptation to devour you.

you reached for the apron, your hands shaking as you pulled it over your head, the thin straps tightening around your neck as you adjusted it. déjùn pulled back just enough to watch, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body. the front of the apron barely covered you, the fabric tight around your waist, your breasts spilling out from the sides. from his angle, your core was still exposed, and the sight made his breath hitch.

with a groan, he reached for you, his hands gripping your hips as he turned you around, his gaze taking in the sight of your ass peeking out from the back of the apron. his fingers trembled slightly as he hastily tied the strings behind you, pulling you back down onto the bed. “you drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping you firmly as he tugged the knot tight.

déjùn laid you down gently on your back, his body hovering over yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. his lips found yours in a kiss so soft, so slow, that it made your heart stutter. his eyes scanned over you, lingering on the way the apron clung to your body, leaving so much exposed yet teasingly hidden. “you like it?” you asked shyly, your voice barely a whisper, your breath catching as his gaze turned heavy with desire.

without a word, his hands shot up, grabbing your breasts where they spilled shamelessly out of the apron’s sides, kneading them with an intensity that made your entire body flush with heat. “so much,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “look so perfect, so pretty. the prettiest wife.” your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his words sank into you. but it was what he said next that made your body tremble, made the air in the room feel heavier, thicker. “you’ll be an even prettier mommy.”

the thought made you squirm beneath him, your thighs pressing together instinctively as his hands worked over your body. the idea of being his—entirely, fully, and forever—drove him wild. he didn’t just want you. he wanted to claim you, to breed you, to see you swollen with the weight of his children. the thought of you, plump and heavy with his seed, your belly round and your breasts full, helpless and tender for him—he needed it. he could already picture it: kissing your feet to soothe your exhaustion, cradling your swollen belly, watching you as you moved around his home, his perfect, precious wife. it was the most enchanting image, one that fueled the fire already burning inside him.

“gonna let me make you one, yeah?” his voice was soft, almost a plea, though there was nothing but certainty in his eyes. even with the unbearable strain in his pants, he was patient, waiting for your answer. “yeah,” you murmured, your voice shaking with need, “put a baby in me.” you would give him whatever he wanted because you wanted it just as much, maybe even more. the thought of being his, completely his, sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the tension building inside him, the way his body shuddered at your words.

a grunt escaped him as he pushed your knees to your chest, spreading you wide open for him. his head dipped between your thighs, and instead of diving in like you expected, he pressed his face into your core, breathing you in deeply. his groan reverberated through your body, and your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you moaned. he had no idea just how wet you were, how ready you were for him. your slick clung to his nose and cheeks as he nuzzled deeper, the heat of his breath and the pressure of his face sending waves of pleasure through your core. you could feel the wetness slipping down your thighs, soaking his skin, and it only made you need him more.

“you’re making a mess, baby,” he grunted, his voice rough as his hands kneaded your thighs, fingers tracing the edge of the apron. “fuck, getting me all fucking dirty.” your response was nothing more than a pitiful whine, your body arching beneath him, lips parting as tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming need for more. the sensation of his face pressed against you, his nose grazing your clit, was driving you mad.

then, his tongue flicked out, wrapping around your clit with a precision that made you see stars. he sucked at it gently at first, teasing you, then harder, his lips closing over your entire core. his tongue darted out, licking up and down your slit, collecting every bit of your juices, savoring the taste of you. “too much,” you shuddered, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to hold back. “wanna cum on your dick, please.”

you could beg all you liked, but déjùn was as mean as he was generous. he didn’t listen, didn’t stop. his pace quickened, his nose pressing into your clit while his tongue worked over your folds, licking up the slick that dripped down your thighs. you tasted so sweet, so familiar, and the more he tasted, the more he wanted. your core throbbed beneath his touch, your walls tightening as the pleasure built, unbearable, almost too much. you whimpered as he slipped a finger inside you, curling it, hitting that soft, spongy spot that made you cry out.

you sobbed quietly, the sensation overwhelming, your body on the brink of release. but just when you thought you’d fall over the edge, he pulled away. the loss of his mouth, of his touch, left you trembling, a frustrated whine escaping your lips. he was so mean. so mean. but then, his face softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your mouth. his chin was slick with your juices, his breath hot against your lips, and his fingers brushed away the tears that had spilled from your eyes.

“gonna stretch you out so good,” he groaned against your mouth, his words laced with promise, with need. “baby’s gonna pop right out once i’m done with you.” the taste of your arousal lingered on your tongue as his lips moved over yours, his hands roaming your body, his touch firm yet tender. you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembled with restraint as he hovered above you, his cock hard and aching against your thigh.

he made you watch as he peeled his clothes away, but you would’ve watched either way. how could you not? how could you look away, when he looked so good? his dark hair clung to his forehead, slick with sweat. in fact, he was sweaty all around. his chin and fingers were still wet with your arousal, but every other part of him was wet with sweat, and he’s never looked better. what really had your attention was his boxers, the sight of the tip of his cock peeking out from the top, hard and angry, pressing against his abs, eager to escape its confinement.

he chuckled as he watched your concentration, disrupting your thoughts. it only encouraged him to continue, tugging his boxers down his thighs eagerly. he let out a shameless groan as his cock collided with his stomach, upright and hard to the touch, the cool air grazing it and flooding him with temporary relief. he was so big, so so big, and you would never get used to it. every vein was prominent, blue clashing with the angry shade of red his cock was, begging for attention in every way. he seemed smug, pleased with how shocked you were as he took your frail hand and wrapped it around the base.

“oh, fuck,” he growled at the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him so generously. you looked up at him with doe eyes, innocent and sweet as if you weren’t a filthy mess for him. you stroked him from the base of his cock to the tip, your thumb dancing around the slit where pre-cum had started dribbling down his shaft. you savored the sounds he was making as you collected his seed with your thumb, releasing his dick just to plop your thumb into your mouth. he watched with a sinister gaze as your lips wrapped around your finger, sucking off the salty mess he was starting to make.

just like that, it was over. he pushed your knees up to your chest once more, eyes glazing over your weeping cunt a final time as he grabbed his dick, alligning it with your cunt. you could feel the tip against your clit, rock hard and thick as he tapped it against your pussy. “xiao, please, need you to fuck me,” you begged through unshed tears. you were about to press down against him, to stir up the smallest bit of friction, but he was mean. he held your hip down with his free hand, just to release his dick from his other one.

then, it unfolded before you could predict it. his free hand came down against your pussy, harsh and unforgiving with a squelch as his palm collided with a smack. your hips stuttered at the pain and sinful pleasure as a tear fell down your cheek, the weight of his cruel gaze unmatched. he spread his fingers in front of your face with a subtle smirk. “see how wet you are?” he cooed, gesturing to the slick dripping down his palm. “see how wet i make you?” all you could do was nod, too ashamed and too desperate to talk. he was plased, all too pleased with just how abused your cunt looked from a single slap.

it urged him on, encouraging him to bring his cock right back to your core. this time, there was no teasing. he would so generously give you what you were looking for, no matter how much it hurt—and it definitely hurt. no matter how many times he fucked you, no matter how hard, you would never adjust to his size. you moaned in synchronization as he eased his dick past your folds, your walls clamping down on him the second he entered you. you could feel every inch, every vein and every pulse. it was raw, it was painful, and it felt too good.

his eyes locked with yours as he slammed into you, the sound of your moans and the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room. your tits bounced with every thrust, smacking against your chin as your knees were forced into your chest. you felt so full, so used, so utterly owned by this man. and yet, you craved more. “deeper,” you panted, your nails digging into the bed as your body begged for release. “deeper, xiao, need more.” he would oblige, he wanted it more than you did. he was determined to put a baby in you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breaths shallower as he fucked you like it was his life's mission. your eyes never left his, the connection between you palpable. his cock was like a piston, relentlessly plunging into your tight pussy, hitting that spot that made you scream his name with every thrust. your walls quivered around him, desperately trying to keep him in, to keep that feeling forever. “this pussy was made for my cock, yeah?” he slurred, circling his hips before slamming right back into you. tears slid down your cheeks at the sensation of it, you wanted to be owned by him.

his hand tightened around your hip, his other gripping your chin to force your gaze up to his. “tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how much you want my cum inside you,” he demanded, his voice thick with need. and you did, you told him just how much you loved it, how much you needed it. you begged him to fill you up, to breed you, to make you his. “fill me up with your cum, dont let any spill out,” you begged through your tears as they coated his hand. “get me pregnant, knock me up, xiao—fuck—” he was relentless, absolutely relentless with his hands on your knees, pushing you back to let him go deeper, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass as he threw his head back with a groan.

you watched as his abs tensed, his cock thickening even more as he picked up his pace. the smack of skin on skin grew louder, your moans turning into screams as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. it was agonizingly beautiful, the way his body moved with yours, the way your cunt clamped down on him as he drove deeper, the way your tits jiggled with every thrust. you felt yourself getting closer, your walls tightening around his dick, the pressure building. he was gonna breed your cunt, make an oven out of your pussy.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he fucked you harder, the friction setting your nerves alight. “i’m gonna cum,” you gasped, your voice high and desperate. “i’m gonna cum on your cock, xiao.” he grunted, his hips slamming into you, his own orgasm just as imminent. “yes, baby, cum for me,” he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. “cum all over me, show me how much you want it.” and just like that, you did. your body tensed, your back arched, and a scream tore from your throat as your pussy spasmed around his cock, clenching tight as you came harder than you ever had before.

his rhythm didn't falter, though. if anything, it grew more intense, more punishing. “not yet,” he said, his voice strained. “i’m not done with you.” his thumb kept working your clit, pushing you into another orgasm, and another, until your cries were nothing but desperate pleas for mercy. but mercy wasn't something déjùn knew how to give, not when he had you like this, not when he could feel you milking him, begging for his seed.

his eyes were wild with lust, his pupils blown wide as he watched you come undone beneath him. “you’re gonna take every drop,” he promised, his strokes growing shallower as he chased his own release. “you’re gonna be pregnant with my baby, you're gonna carry it and grow it and push it out just for me.” the thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that had you trembling all over.

his thumb never left your clit, even as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing with the beginnings of his orgasm. “xiao,” you whispered, “i’m gonna—” but he silenced you with a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your cries. he groaned against your lips, his hand leaving your chin to wrap around the base of his cock as he pushed in one final, deep thrust. you felt the warmth of his cum fill you, the pressure building until it was almost too much. your eyes rolled back in your head as your body was hit with a final wave of pleasure, his seed spilling into your womb. “yes,” you chanted, your voice muffled by his mouth. “yes, yes, yes—”

his body tensed above you, his muscles tight as he emptied himself inside you. his cock jerked, pulsing, and you could feel every drop of his cum coating your insides. when he finally pulled out, a string of it followed, connecting his cock to your pussy before snapping, leaving a trail of white on your skin. “so good,” he murmured, kissing down your neck as his hands softened on your hips. “so fucking good.” he was pleased, too pleased. all with the sight of your pussy coated in white—coated in his white.

✧

a/n: what would you do if when you okay so he said yes would GO 💜 thank you for requesting ily

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astermath · 1 year ago

Text

take a break.

pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader

summary: dave has been overdoing the kickass activities, and you’re worried every other night could be his last. he tries to comfort you and tell you he’ll be okay. you’re not sure you believe him.

word count: 1.1K

tags: established relationship, mentions of injuries, dave being a sweetheart and loving his gf more than anything ofc, college au, regular font below!

“You’re such an idiot, Dave.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You sigh deeply. This is the third time in two weeks he’s come to your dorm window, badly hurt, asking for help.

And of course you help him. He’s your boyfriend, yes, but sometimes you get so upset at him always getting hurt that you want him to just learn a lesson already.

But he never does. So you keep helping him.

You love him. Like a painful amount, almost. You’d been together since high school, back when you found out about his vigilante persona. Now you’re in college together, and though you support his activities and what he stands for, you’re scared it could all go very south very quickly. It seems like any time he goes out to fight these days could be his last.

He winces when you clean the cut on his cheek with some antiseptic. Normally, you’d apologise, saying you just want to help. But you’re quiet. You feel troubled, and Dave can tell.

He feels more conflicted than ever. He’s feeling like he has to choose; between his principles, what he stands for, and the love of his life, his favourite girl. And that’s just something he can’t do.

Because he know he’ll choose you. And he’ll spend the rest of his life feeling regretful over the people he didn’t save.

“You’re mad, right?”

“No shit.”

“Right.” He pauses for a second. “Sorry.”

“Just—“ you hold out your hands and sigh deeply. “Stop apologising.”

“But,” he sits up straighter suddenly, “alright.” He bites back the urge to say sorry again.

Now you feel bad for being mad. Because you decided to keep being his girlfriend, even though you knew about his endeavours. You knew of the risks, of everything he stood for, and you accepted it. Because you love him. So, so much. You even took on being his personal nurse, treating his injuries whenever he needed it. But lately it’s been too much for your poor heart to handle.

It’s one thing to know your boyfriend is out there fighting dangerous criminals at night.

It’s another to see him in the aftermath of it, on the brink of consciousness at your window.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you to stop.” Your words make him look back up, searching for your eyes even though you’re avoiding his gaze. His heart aches for it, the way you look at him. But he can tell by how shaky your voice is that you’re already on the brink of crying.

“I know.” He responds. He’s quiet, he doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to say anything.

“It’s just— Dave, this is… This is a lot. You’ve been overdoing it.” You finally look up, and though he’s happy to see your pretty face, his heart breaks at the sight of your teary eyes. Of course he’s seen you cry before, hell, pretty much every time you watch a movie together you cry. But now it’s because of him. And he doesn’t know what to do this time.

“It’s just— crime’s been ramping up lately, baby. And someone has to do something about it.” He knows what you’re about to say. That it’s not his responsibility, at least not alone. That he shouldn’t feel like it’s his sole duty to keep people safe. And you know that he knows you’re going to say that. So you keep quiet.

“But why does it have to be you?” Your voice sounds shaky, like it’s going to break if you talk too loud.

“Because, if not me, then who else? I mean seriously, I can’t just have you out there in a world this dangerous. What if something happens to you?”

“How do you think I feel? What if something happens to you, Dave? Then what? What if I lose the person closest to me because he’s too stubborn to take a break?”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. Because he knows you’re right. You’ve been in the right from the start, his sense of purpose is just too connected to his persona. To Kickass.

“I’m sorry,” he reaches out for your hands, and you don’t pull away this time. They’re rough, calloused, but you’ve grown so accustomed to them. They’re warm, big, familiar. They’re Dave.

To his surprise, you lean into him, your head resting against his chest. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you, his hand running up and down your spine in an attempt to soothe you. You’re tired too. Not only are you basically his personal nurse, but you’re also a full time college student. Dave is too. And he’d be failing if it wasn’t for you taking extra notes for him.

“I don’t know how much more Kickass my heart can take right now…”

“I get that. Ill, uhm… I’ll take a break. I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You look up at him. You’re giving him those puppy eyes that he can’t resist, whether you’re trying to or not. Maybe he’s just that weak for you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll take you out on a date soon. A real date, like in those movies you like to watch.”

“Will you get me flowers too?”

“Don’t spoil your own surprise now.”

You giggle, and the sound of it nearly makes him forget about all his injuries.

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. Now that you think about it, it’s been a while since you’ve been together like this. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it gives you time to breathe, to think. To let everything sink in.

“You know I’d never ask you to quit being Kickass, but… One day, you’re gonna have to put it to rest baby.”

“I know.” he sighs. “I’m getting more used to being Dave though. Or— liking being Dave.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve been making that a lot easier.”

“Yeah. I mean Kickass is cool and all, really cool, but I prefer Dave.” You peck his lips, trying to pull away right after, but he doesn’t let you. He captures your lips once more, melting into the kiss and cradling your face gently.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You smile against his lips.

“For liking Dave. He appreciates it.”

“Yeah, well… Tell him I don’t just like him, I love him.”

“He loves you too.” His face is graced by a love drunk smile. How can someone just be so lovely?

“And Kickass is alright too I guess.”

To that, he laughs, though it hurts his ribs a bit. He definitely bruised them, for sure.

Or maybe it’s the overwhelming love swelling in his chest.

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