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sticky-sugar · 5 months ago

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try it. (matsukawa issei x reader)

tags/cw: roommates to lovers, somnophilia, fingering, mattsun sends porn as a coping mechanism, size kink if you really squint

word count: 3.1k

“i’ve always wanted to try that.”

issei chokes on his beer when you speak. you point at the tv in explanation, as though he needs one. the scene playing has just started out with a couple in bed, spooning while they fuck. everything’s covered, but it’s easy to tell through the blanket that the woman’s leg is lifted, her back arching against the man’s chest while she cries out lewdly.

“never been fucked in the morning?” he jokes, keeping his eyes trained on the screen so he doesn’t have to look at you. his laugh sounds awkward even to him.

“mm-mm.” you shake your head, draining your wine glass, and he can’t tell if that’s a confirmation or a rejection of his guess. but he can tell that that wine bottle on the coffee table is empty, because you would never say these things to him sober.

“not that part,” you explain. frowning when you realize there’s no wine left, you rise from the couch, disappearing from the room and padding down the hall. issei sighs in relief at the moment alone, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard.

“she’s drunk,” he whispers to himself, a reminder. “she’s drunk, and she’s your friend. and you can’t afford rent anywhere else, you stupid fuck.” that’ll do it. he’s broke as shit, and you’re a good friend. he can steel his nerves with those facts.

“she was asleep when he started,” you call from the kitchen.

fuck.

issei drops his head back, hitting it on the wall a few times with purpose. fuck, fuck, fuck.

you come back in, and he straightens, yanking the throw blanket over his lap. you’re too drunk to notice.

you’re too drunk to notice much of anything, really — including your own running mouth.

“she was asleep,” you say again. “and he fucked her anyway—“ you rush to explain yourself, holding a hand out when his eyes find yours, wide and uncertain. “consensually, obviously.”

that doesn’t help. he’d been assuming that, but you confirming it makes it worse.

somnophilia, his mind whispers, the word latching itself to you.

“i dunno,” you shrug, your refilled wine glass brought to your lips. “i think it’s hot, i guess. i’d try it.”

he really can’t afford rent anywhere else.

—

you’re scouring roommate ads in a hungover daze the next morning.

what is your problem?, you think, rolling over to groan into your pillow. you open your bank app, staring at the number in your checking account and wondering uselessly if it’s enough to afford a place on your own. one where you’ll never have to look mattsun in the face again.

why did you tell him that?

your brain flashes through two bottles of wine and drunk admissions, and you switch over to uber eats, deciding that cooking is simply not an option today. standing in that kitchen for more then four seconds and risking running into him is not an option.

you know why you told him that. you know exactly why you told him.

you told him because, despite every coping mechanism you’ve tried over the years of living with him, matsukawa issei persists in being the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you told him because you wanted to test the waters. why you would ever test the waters with somnophilia, of all things, and not something standard and vanilla like ‘making out with a friend just happens sometimes’ or ‘drunk hookups aren’t so bad’, you will never know.

but you’d told him because you think about it. you think about him, doing things like that. things that aren’t standard or vanilla or easily explained or plausibly deniable.

you think about matsukawa issei fucking you while you sleep. and maybe it’s happened one too many times. maybe now it’s all you think about, enough that it comes up in your stupid, drunk admissions.

maybe — just maybe — you hope he might take you up on it, now that it’s out there in the open like that.

but that’s just a maybe. so you’re looking for another apartment, on the very real chance that he’s going to call you a freak and never speak to you again.

your phone buzzes in your hand.

it’s a text from him.

[10:17 AM]

mattsun: [link attached]

your face crumples into a frown. “what?” you murmur, jabbing a thumb on the link and hoping it’s not a virus.

your phone starts moaning at max volume.

you scream, slamming down on the side button to lower the volume as the video intro plays through. your eyes fly to the title.

milf fucked by son’s friend while she’s sleeping

there’s no fucking way he just did that.

[10:19 AM]

mattsun: smth like that?

“matsukawa!” you scream, rolling out of bed and storming out into the hall. he’s laughing loudly from his room, and you all but kick his door down. “what the fuck is your problem?!”

he’s in bed, cackling gleefully and covering his face with his blanket — but his eyes are anything but shy when he looks at you.

“just trying to ease the tension-“

“by sending me porn?!”

he shrugs and gestures to his phone. “im just saying, you’re not alone! at least—“ he glances down at the screen “—3.8 million other people are into it, too-“

you scream in frustration, turning and stomping back to your room. his laughter follows, echoing through your door even when you slam it.

he does it for two weeks straight. every few days, you wake up to a new link, each video titled something more obnoxious than the last.

guy takes step-sister while she takes a nap

mom wakes step-son up with a special surprise on his birthday

repairman finds sleeping beauty home alone

each one draws an irritated screech of his name and the echoing giggles of satisfaction from his room.

you could stop it. in fact, he’s asked you more than once if you want him to.

‘if you really want me to stop, i’ll stop, he’d said in your kitchen last week.

‘just say the word,’ he’d reminded you on his way out one morning.

‘i think you and i both know how important consent is,’ he’d murmured just two nights ago, leaning on your doorframe, his eyes hot on yours.

you’d shivered under his gaze and pretended to be engrossed in something on your phone. you’d hoped he couldn’t see the way you’d pressed your thighs together, but when you looked up, he was already staring down at them.

he’d met your eyes again and just hummed, flicking his dark eyebrows up at you before turning away. your phone had buzzed with a new link only seconds after his bedroom door had clicked shut.

you’re certain he knows why you haven’t told him to stop. that the truth is that you don’t want him to stop. you’re certain he’s testing the waters now, too.

because each video he sends you gets closer and closer to being about roommates.

your phone buzzes in your hands. you wonder if he knows that you watch each one, waiting for him to pull the trigger on the one that sits unspoken in the space between you.

he does, a week later.

—

you’ve caught him, issei realizes belatedly.

maybe he should have noticed after you started sitting closer to him on the couch. or maybe after you’d refused to tell him to stop sending you porn. or maybe even after he’d sent you something titled ‘roommate can’t help himself while she sleeps’ at 4 in the morning and you hadn’t called the cops on him.

maybe he should have realized you’d caught him after any one of those. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t realize it, not until this very moment, as you’re standing from the couch and bending over to clean the table of empty beer bottles before bed.

he doesn’t realize it until he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

he glances at you shamefully when you bend at the waist, hoping you don’t look back and catch him. and then he coughs violently, choking on his own spit and drawing your attention.

he waves you off, blushing furiously and not even bothering to stop his eyes from flying to your ass when you just shrug and bend over again. your pajama shorts have ridden up, but there’s no lacy edge on pink panties where there should be.

yes, he’d noticed years ago that these shorts tend to ride up and not mentioned it. yes, he knows what kind of panties you wear. yes, he has a favorite pair.

what are you gonna do if you find out, call him a pervert? he’d sent you roommate somnophilia porn and you’d made him coffee in the morning.

“‘kay, goodnight,” you mumble, and issei wonders if you’re shy about it or if he’s just hoping you are.

“g’night,” he breathes, eyes finding yours. you keep eye contact all the way out of the living room. your eyes drop to his lap at the last second, and he watches a grin stretch across your face just before you disappear from the room.

he looks down at his lap, and then he swears under his breath. he’s visibly hard in his sweatpants.

—

he feels like a pervert. he really feels like a pervert.

he stands in the hall outside your bedroom, one hand on the knob, feeling like a pervert. it’s 2 in the morning, and he feels like a pervert.

he sighs to himself and turns the knob slowly — ever so slowly, because he knows how it creaks, and he doesn’t want to wake you. he pushes the door open carefully, and then he finds you in the dark, moonlight spilling over your body.

you’re completely naked.

you’re on your stomach, blankets draped over your lower half and one knee bent out toward the wall. issei can see the expanse of your bare skin and the swell of your breast, but you’ve got your back slightly to him, so he can’t see everything.

but it’s enough.

he breathes hard, stepping into the room and shutting the door silently behind him. he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging hard and giving a soft sigh as he pads over to you.

when he lowers his knees to your mattress, it’s with his heart in his throat and his cock straining against his pants. you look so innocent, so sweet like this, even while he’s sliding the blankets off of your skin and exposing you in the moonlight.

is he really allowed to want this as badly as he does?

your breath is steady, only changing slightly when he braces himself behind you, propped up on one elbow. he scoots toward you, breath caught in his throat, and then slides his hand under the back of your knee. you shiver, probably because his fingers are ice cold, and he keeps his eyes locked on the side of your face.

when you don’t give any other sign of waking, he lifts your leg and hooks it backward over his knee, opening your body up for him.

he swears under his breath, staring down at you in the moonlight.

you shift, adjusting to the new angle of your body with a sigh. your back presses to his chest, and issei has to press his lips together so he doesn’t moan at the sight of you.

he keeps his eyes on your face when he slides his fingers along your inner thigh, watching you intensely as his icy fingertips dance close to the spot between your thighs that’s radiating heat.

when he cups your bare cunt, your skin breaks out in goosebumps, but you don’t move otherwise. issei moans now, because your body knows what he’s doing, but you don’t.

he’d had a feeling before — in the weeks between that moment on the couch and this moment right here — that he’d unlocked a new, previously untouched fantasy. that his reaction to your drunken admission might have been about more than just being attracted to you.

he sees it now. now, as he’s sliding two fingers between your folds and watching as you remain completely unaware, he realizes that you’ve done something to him. that you’ve made him want to do this to you, tonight and every night after.

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to shudder and moan in your ear when your pussy twitches under his fingers, reacting to him even when you don’t.

he drops his head to your chest, eyes locked on your face as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. your lips part, and he freezes, but the sigh that falls out is nowhere near conscious, so he keeps going, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the bud while he massages your cunt with his now-warm fingers.

the first sign that you’re reacting is the growing ease with which he’s able to push his fingers against you. your entrance becomes slick, and he can’t help that he pushes his hips against your ass in response, seeking relief. he drops his touch lower and swipes the pads of his fingers through the mess there, spreading it all over your cunt.

when he circles your clit, slippery and warm now, your breathing changes, harder and rougher. the rise and fall of your chest pushes at his mouth, and he latches on with fresh fervor, watching your brows furrow and your lips twitch at the onslaught of sensations.

it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for him to push his middle finger past your entrance.

“fuck”, he whispers despite himself, mouth slipping off of you with a gentle pop and eyes rolling back in his head. your walls pulse around his finger, warm and velvety and wet beyond belief. his cock twitches hard in his pants as he slides his finger in and out of you, searching for that spongy spot that’ll wake you up.

he knows you might have wanted him to fuck you like this, but he can’t help himself anymore. he doesn’t have it in him to be careful anymore.

when his ring finger joins his middle, it’s with intent. the push is rough, bullying your cunt open with the size of his fingers, no doubt longer and fuller than you can get on your own.

you shift under him, a quiet noise of question leaving you, and he lifts his head, attaching his lips to the crook of your neck.

“y/n,” he whispers, more a moan than anything else. “need you.”

he sucks on the column of your throat while you come to, his fingers curling and spreading inside of you — his sloppy attempt to prepare you for him.

“h-huh-“ your head lifts slightly, and then you’re slamming it back against the pillow, your back arching. “oh, my god, mattsun-“

he almost comes in his pants when you say his name like that.

“couldn’t help myself,“ he starts, shaking his head and pushing his body against yours almost desperately. “you were so pretty.“ your cunt tightens around his fingers in response, and he files that away for later. keeps it in mind, the things that make you react like this. “need you so bad, y/n-“

“yes, god yes,” you breathe, a whine trapped in your throat. you turn your head, back still pressed against his chest, and drop your still-sleepy eyes to his lips.

the coil under issei’s navel tugs hard when he realizes how well he can read you.

he pushes his mouth against yours eagerly, moan unrestrained when your tongue slides against his. he wonders if you know how often he’s thought of this moment, years of wanting you and craving the feeling of you coming undone under his fingers.

“please,” you whisper against his lips, back arching when he pushes the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot that makes you whine. “more, mattsun.”

he groans, shivering when you pull his bottom lip between your teeth. “not yet — it’ll hurt,” he murmurs, leaning on every molecule of self-control.

“i can take it,” you just say, pushing your ass back against his aching cock. “promise.”

he never had that much self-control to begin with.

his moan comes out in a shuddered breath, overpowered by the sound of you whining when he slips his fingers out of you. he shoves his sweats down to his knees, meeting your eyes and seeing the urgency he feels reflected in your eyes.

when he slides his cock between your folds, it’s with a choked groan and a heaving pant in your ear.

“can i- are you sure-“ he stutters, already lining himself up at your entrance.

“please, please, please,” you babble, arching your back to make the angle easier on him.

you come around his cock before he’s even halfway in.

there are stars in his eyes by the time you’re done.

you cry out for him, shaking and clenching down hard, and he can’t do anything except bury his face in your hair and keep your leg lifted high with a trembling hand.

“fuck,” he breathes, voice tight. “fuck, y/n-“

“more, mattsun,” you sob. he thinks you might be the girl of his dreams.

pushing the rest of the way in, he shoves down his own orgasm, fighting and kicking and forcing it away so he can last more than thirty seconds inside of you.

he only manages a minute before he’s spilling into you with a stuttered moan of your name, face buried in your neck and head full of static.

you’re just slumped against him by the time he comes to his senses, breathing hard and synced with his.

“sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, ears burning with embarrassment. “i swear i usually last longer than that-“

you laugh, tired and still weak but bright all the same. “yeah — so do i.”

he snorts, pulling out slowly and letting your leg drop closed, trying his best not to moan at the feeling.

“are you sure that was okay?” he asks, a tiny inkling of doubt still seeded in his veins. you just giggle, whispering his name in fond exasperation.

“sorry, which part of me sleeping naked was a warning sign?”

“shut up,” he mutters, curling himself around you and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion start to drain his energy. “i’m staying here tonight. i don’t do one-night stands.”

you just turn in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. “was i that good, mattsun? i was asleep for half of it.”

you’re gonna be the thing that kills him, he just knows it.

#banner by @/cafekitsune !!#matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader

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mixingandmelting · 2 months ago

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You Know Other Men Meme HC

Summary: when he gets randomly jealous while cuddling on the sofa and you tell him he’s the most jealous man you know feat. Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian

Dick

“You know other men?”

He’s offended. Shocked. Insulted. Disappointed.

Like who are the other men??? There were other men???

Snaps his head up and looks at you with either eyes that can probably beat Batman’s when he’s angry or the saddest, puppies eyes you’ll ever see on the planet though the grip on your waist says otherwise

Starts questioning you who these “other men” are and goes from wanting their information including address to phone number to since when you started knowing them or where you met them

But when you tell him “I know only one man and it’s you”, he’ll quickly melt - getting all dopey with a silly smile on his face as he peppers kisses all over you

Cuddles into you more though asking for you to look at something else. If not, he’s going have to use a different method to get you to listen ; )

Jason

“Yeah and you better remember it.”

It’s not confidence in himself that makes him say it - rather, it’s knowing that you chose him and would always choose him over anyone else

Like, what is there to compete? All the other guys (cough Bruce and Dick cough) are already sucking it since he’s winning with having you, the best thing in his life

Plus, since you made him yours, you’re stuck with him for eternity whether you like it or not

Does playfully pull you into a suffocating bear hug, enjoying the warmth of your body seeping into his

Chuckles if you play along and tap his biceps, shoulder, or chest, spouting “uncle”, “I lose”, or something that’ll show you surrender

Gives you a kiss on the lips or cheeks before going back to critic and rate whatever you were looking at earlier

Tim

“You do realize I’m the only man you know?”

Rolls his eyes and pretends your comment isn’t bothering him - after all, knowing you inside and out, there are no “other men” other than him

He’s awful at hiding it though when he starts to nuzzle into the junction where you neck meets your shoulder to hide his disgruntlement

Shuffles and pulls you closer to him, trying to “imprint” himself on you. Whether it’s conscious or subconscious that is yet to be decided

Play with his hair and tell him “yes and you’re the only man I also love” will earn a warm grin from him

That or him hiding his face into your shoulder with the tip of his ears burning red as his Red Robin suit

Either way the arms around you won’t loosen up for a while, going back to cuddling in his embrace. This time with him not minding what you’re looking at making a comment here and there, mostly jabbing at your taste

Duke

“I thought I was your man?”

He’s so confused by what you just said

What do you mean “most jealous man I know” - you know other men??? Is he not your only man???

Literally will start overthinking and confront you on whether you actually have starting seeing people behind his back

Has his head-up with an “excuse me?” written all over, needing to confirm you aren’t hiding anything based on your expression

Only to feel silly and embarrassed when you give him sass e.g., “are you not the only I’m dating?” or “do I look like I have another man besides you?”. Especially if your eyes are deadpan

Poor guy ends up hiding his face, becoming the smaller spoon. Dies but appreciates if you snuggle closer to him and pat him

Damian

“You know other men?”

Does the same thing as Dick but much angrier and more hissing

It’s going to take a while to calm him down especially when he’s ready to end things there and then with plans to also take down and ruin those “other men’s” lives

Listen. You are his and only his. How dare you have other men besides him???

When you tell him “you do realize you are the only person i’m dating?” that gets him to put the katana down

He’ll ask you who these “other men” are and realize they weren’t there from the start. Not when it’s his siblings and father

He just grumbles about how you should’ve said that from start and expect you to go back cuddling with him, head pats and all other expressions of affection to comfort him

Will succumb and completely “forgive” you if you give kiss on the top of his head

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #damian wayne #robin #damian wayne x reader #duke thomas #signal #duke thomas x reader #tim drake #red robin #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader

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mellowyellow236 · 3 months ago

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How would the TWST boys act when they had a crush on the Reader/Yuu?

All are meant to be interpreted as romantic except for Ortho, who is a wingman for his brother in his part. Some characters might be a bit OOC. Reader is GN but will be referred to as pretty/beautiful. Minor TW for Rollo having yandere tendencies.

If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave an ask or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants :) Everything is under the cut

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts -

Not the best person to have liking you.

He’s not mean or anything he just... Has no idea what to do with himself at any time.

And it’s very obvious.

He thinks that if he’s very, very specific about you following the rules, you’ll praise him and thus that’ll mean you’ll like him.

He’s… Trying his best.

“Off With Your Head!” You felt the metal clamp around your neck as you heard the echo of the words. Turning around, you saw the small redhead with his hands on his hips, face already flushing. He grabbed the drink you were holding, the surface of the coffee moving as he pulled away. “On a Tuesday, one can only drink lemon tea past 3:14 in the afternoon!” He huffed, before using his free hand to pull you away. “If you don’t know the rules, I’ll just have to teach them to you. Come on, there’s some tea in the garden. I have a book of rules I could read to you.”

Trey Clover -

He’s housewife material, he’ll bake for you

“Any boy can be babygirl but it takes a man to be a single mother” vibes

I never know what to say to him he’s just a normal person who likes cooking

On a complete side note if you ever go to NYC, go to Alice’s Tea Cup. It’s this tea house that’s kind of close to Broadway, at least last time I went pre-COVID, and it’s so good. I have the recipe book from there and the pumpkin scones are the best.

You walked into the Hearslabyul kitchen, smiling at the smell of apple pie. Trey was baking, and the dish had just come out of the oven. He smiled, but then slapped your hand away when you tried to grab it. “Not yet, it needs to cool first. If you really want something to eat, we have leftover blueberry scones in the fridge.” He said, looking away to get the serving plate. You touched it anyway, pulling back as you burned yourself. He looked at you and sighed, taking you by the arm to get an ice cube on it. “Burnt hand teaches best, I suppose... It shouldn’t be that bad of a burn. If it gets any worse, I’ll put some cream on it...” He said, before kissing the burn. “And a get-well-soon kiss, of course.”

Cater Diamond -

He’s a silly boy, but also an angsty one

If he genuinely likes you, he’d probably try really, really hard to be the “perfect guy”

And also to try to hide how into you he is because he’s scared you’ll leave him

Those moments when his guard drops are probably the sweetest, though

“Ah, that was fun! Well, Cay-cay’s all yours for the rest of the day. What do you wanna do now?” Cater said, having just turned off his livestream. You were behind his phone smiling at him. You were going to recommend getting a drink at the Monstro lounge, but saw how tired he was. He smiled at you when you asked to just hang out with him at home. “You do, huh? Well, there’s a new movie we could watch.” When you raised an eyebrow, asking if it was for Magicam, he just chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. A remake of an old classic. I want to watch it with you. I’m sure that you’d be able to make anything good, just by being there.”

Ace Trapolla & Deuce Spade-

They’re together because I feel like you can’t make one fall for you without the other. It’s a ‘buy one get one free’ deal.

Ace would be a nightmare to have in love with you.

He’d try his best to flirt, but mainly through really bad dirty jokes and pickup lines.

Or, by inserting himself into your life as much as possible in an attempt to force himself into a place of importance for you

Duece, on the other hand, would be an angel.

He attempts to be an old-fashioned gentleman, like holding open doors and getting you flowers.

Are those roses from Heartslabyul’s garden? Maybe. Just don’t snitch on him to Riddle.

You weren't entirely sure how you got yourself into hiding in a cabinet with Ace and Duece, but here you were, avoiding the Riddle currently screaming his head off about how someone had stolen the roses currently in your arms. You had a hand over Duece’s mouth as he muttered apologies, trying to get him to shut up, before Ace leaned in and whispered “Hey, Prefect?” You gave him a look, to which he said, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see!” He asked, voice rising in volume as he tried not to laugh, to which Duece slapped him on the arm and cried, “Don’t be so loud! You’re going to get us caught!” Ace only laughed harder, until the door to the cabinet opened. You took a dash out of there with your roses, the two bumbling baffoons behind you, the yelling housewarden already collaring them.

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar -

He’s a fun man

Well, not really, but his attempts are very fun for Ruggie.

He’ll just drag you away and force you to cuddle with him.

You’ll probably end up cutting class, but do you really care when it’s with the clingy lion man?

Throwing money at you with no regard to the amount he gives or the reason he does it is the other attempt.

If he can prove that he’s better at taking care of you than the lizard, he can win this round.

And get a better lover than his brother, but that’s the secondary goal.

You were just walking in the garden when you felt someone trip you, causing you to land half in a bush. Before you could turn around to tell off the person responsible, they grabbed your waist and pulled you to them on the floor. “It’s nap time, Herbivore. Shut up and let me sleep.” When you told him that he was the one who invited you here and you’d have to skip your next class to stay, he just huffed and rolled his eyes at you, pushing a pouch in your hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. If you’ll be like that, take this and you can get whatever you want in your lunch period. Fair deal if you’ll stay.”

Ruggie Bucchi -

Would never ask you out on a date, he’s scared.

The best treatment that you get before he’s sure you’re not going to be mean to him is that he doesn’t pawn your gifts off for cash.

Afterward, he’ll be a bit more affectionate

Maybe even give you some of his food...

Also, hyena courting stuff; Shadowing a potential partner, taking a step forward and then taking a step back, and other stuff like that.

You heard the laughing of the beastman before you were able to see his face. He had been following you around for most of the day, but every time he’d take a few steps forward, he’d taken a few back after a second. Now, though, he had his head on your shoulder. “Hello, Prefect. Look what I got!” He said, showing you a donut he had probably gotten from Sam’s. “You want a bite?” He asked, when you nodded and took a bite he bit onto the other end, giggling away. “What, was that really enough to fluster you, Prefect? Shishishi, I should try doing this to you again.”

Jack Howl -

Jack asks you outright if you feel the same way he does, especially if you two are friends.

Finally! A confession!

He doesn’t want to make your friendship weird, so he wants to tell you that it’s happened and either find a way to get over you or have a happy relationship.

Very much “Worst they can say is no, best they can say is yes” kind of man

Aside from that, very loyal and sweet to you before he realizes that he likes you

Also, a pinch of an old-fashioned gentleman in him

Jack had called you out earlier that day to go on an evening walk with him, and so here you were. You were in the mountains, walking at a fairly slow pace. You neared a big tree as the sun set, and Jack took a deep breath. He took your hand, ears on high alert and tail looking undecided between if it wanted to cower beneath his legs or wag excitedly, and said, “Prefect, I like you very much. Please go on a date with me.”

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto -

Oh no

He has two moods when it comes to the person he likes; Annoyingly showoffish and annoyingly terrified of you.

Somehow, it’s sometimes both.

He would talk very loudly about how well he was doing as a businessman his contracts and how much money he’d made.

And then you touch him and he just stops functioning.

“Oh, look, Jade! Another new high this month! We might even be able to expand!” He cried, glancing at you again and again. This had been happening every time you visited Monstro Lounge; A song and dance of Azul fishing for compliments that he seemed to hate, if him leaving the room every time you complimented him had anything to say about it. This time, you grabbed his wrist as you spoke, telling him how he was doing a very good job. You watched him turn a shade of red and blue, stiffening up as he muttered out a response. “Thank you... I will keep your response in mind.” The moment you let him go, Jade stepped in to talk to you as the octopus-mer ran away once more.

Jade Leech -

As the more put together of the two moray eels here, he gets the ‘classier’ side of the coin.

Moray courting rituals of wrapping together is often described as a dance, so he’ll try to dance with you.

Aside from that, I can see him subtly teasing you about yawning in front of him, even if you don’t understand why.

And feeding you plenty of mushroom dishes.

You were stuffed, that was for sure. Jade had invited you to Octavinelle a while ago, and now you were here, eating various mushroom dishes like your life depended on it. He was smiling, another one placed in front of you. “A shiitake and crab stir fry is next. Surely, you have room for more?” He asked, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled when you yawned, “Isn’t it a bit late in the season for that?” When you asked what he meant, he only shook his head and brought a filled fork to your lips. “Fufu. Just focus on eating for now, Prefect.”

Floyd Leech -

Hehe funny unhinged eel man

Moray eels like to cuddle, so prepare to be squeezed by him

Also, yawning or ‘gaping’ (Opening his mouth really wide) at you.

Honestly, I don’t have a lot of thoughts on him, he’s just a silly little guy.

“Shrimpy!” You heard cried behind you, Floyd flopping himself over you from behind. He yawned and pushed his head over your shoulder as he spread himself over you so his weight was all on you to hold up. “Whatcha doing?” He asked, smiling at you. Once you answered that you were on your way to class, he frowned, wrapping his arms around you before lifting you like a cat. “That’s boring! Common, Shrimpy, we’re going to find something fun to do!”

Scarabia:

Kalim Al-Asim -

For Kalim, I feel as if the second he knows he likes you, you will know he likes you because he’ll tell you outright.

Before he knows he likes you, everyone else will know he likes you.

Running up to you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you, talking about you to everyone who will listen, etc.

Much like the other rich kids who aren’t used to being genuinely wanted for themselves and not their money in this school, Kalim will throw expensive gifts at you in an attempt to gain your favor.

“Prefect!!” You heard someone shout, running at you from across the field of the flying lesson you were in. “There you are! I’ve got something for you!” He said, smiling all the while. He kissed you on the cheek, and then reached into his bag, pulling out a golden bracelet. Before you had time to refuse, because it was the middle of a class where it could easily be lost or because of the outrageous price tag, he spoke up. “And now we match! Just like twins, see?” He had kept his ones on this time, and you couldn’t help but smile as he was beaming up at you.

Jamil Viper -

Jamil might not be able to show off often, but he does try to do so for you.

You’re busy and can’t cook? He’ll get you some food!

You’ve torn a hole in your gym clothes? He’s got a sewing kit on him!

Your homework is about to kill your GPA because Crewel seems to hate having breaks? He’s your guy!

All in all, he attempts to woo you like a mixture of a 1950s housewife and the stereotype of tutor love interests in media.

“-And that’s how to make a basic healing tonic. Any questions?” He asked. When you shook your head, he gave a small smile. “That’s good. I’ll help you clean up in here, and then I’ve got something for you back at Scarabia.” His hand brushed yours as he helped you clear up the papers that had been scattered around as you studied. “You mentioned wanting to try foods from the scalding sands, so I got a bunch of ingredients. I’ll make you a wonderful meal if you’d like.”

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit -

Much like Riddle, you must deal with him being much more annoying as soon as he likes you.

Just this time, he’s annoying you about your self-care.

You don’t take multi-hour spa baths in the crummy bath at Ramshackle? Well, now you do at the much better baths in Pomefiore every week.

You don’t have a skincare routine that takes up half your morning? Yes, you do.

You will never be in better condition physically but he will continue finding new ways to push you.

He does it out of love because he wants you to always look and feel your best.

You opened the door to Ramshackle, looking at a mildly annoyed Vil. He grabbed you before you could protest, leading you away from your dorm. “Come on, Potato. I’m taking you to Pomefiore, and you’re going to get a makeover.” When you asked why, the third year just rolled his eyes. “You have bags under your eyes, and they seem to be from lack of sleep or stress, if your appearance when you came here was anything to say about it. So, I’m getting you a spa day and will teach you how to take care of yourself better. If you still can’t, I’ll just have to take you for spa time more often.”

Rook Hunt -

Rook is a walking love letter.

Constantly waxing poetics, and talking about how beautiful you are.

You forget something at home and the next thing you know you’ve got an arrow shot next to you and whatever you need as well as a heartfelt note is in a pouch tied to it.

And he’s just... There.

All the time.

He’s in your walls.

You sighed, having forgotten your potions textbook for the third time this week. Truly, your memory was your own worst- What was that? A thud had come from right next to you; An arrow with a paper gift bag tied onto it through a deep purple ribbon had been shot into a tree, going right past your head. When you looked into it, there was your missing textbook, as well as a note from the giver. ‘Dearest Trickster, it is a wonder to be in your presence. I do ask, please grace me with those eyes to my face. If only I had those, I would be happy to deliver you your books for the rest of my life.’ When you looked around, you saw him; The third year excitedly waving at you from the rooftop of the school.

Epel Felmeir -

He tries so hard to show you how awesome cool and manly he is.

Has the same vibes as a child showing their parents how good they are at sports.

“Hey Mom, look!” *Kicks a soccer ball and falls flat on his face*

He’s doing the best he can with the skills he has, give the little guy some credit

“Hey, Prefect! Did ya see that goal I made at the end?” Epel said, having just finished a Spelldrive game. He had come up to you as soon as he was done, and you smiled at him, nodding and telling him that he had done well. He puffed his chest out at that, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Of course I did! I’ll even give ya a ride on my broom after our next practice, so you can see what it looks like when ya playing. That’s be fun, right?” He said, smiling at you widely.

Ignihyde:

Idia Shroud -

Scared boy

Very, very scared boy

He will try to run from you any time he’s nearby.

If you manage to corner him, expect him to be very flustered.

Maybe you’ll get a sentence or two out of him if you keep trying...

Idia had been avoiding you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. So here you were, using the key card ortho gave you to work your way into the room of the hermit. He was hunched over his desk, eyes closed and breathing steady. His monitor was on, so when you walked over, you took the mouse out from him and went to save in his game before you closed it out. He stirred, muttering as he opened his eyes, “One more round, Orthohmysevenitsyouohimsorryicangonow!” He bolted straight up, hair flaming pink as he pushed the swirly chair back and ran out of his own room.

Ortho Shroud -

His big brother’s best wingman

Will come up to you and talk about how great his brother is

If needed, pulls up diagrams and chats like he’s giving a PowerPoint presentation on his brother’s ability to date you

“Prefect!” You heard a shout, the younger Shroud brother coming up to you. “I have something that you must see! You are aware of my brother’s affection for you, correct?” When you shook your head, he smiled, pulling up a presentation on his iPad. “That makes this much more difficult, but very well! As you can see here, one’s heartbeat increases when one meets with the object of one’s affections. This can be caused by a flight or fight response, which my brother does not usually suffer from when over a call with another. However, when your voice is there, his heart rate spikes dramatically! This means that I have reason to believe that he is in love with you. In this presentation, I will-”

Diasonia:

Malleus Dracona -

He is going to try to woo you with gems

And probably other dragon-courting rituals

I think that out of the beastmen and fae, he understands the least that you don’t get their courting rituals.

By the name he realizes that you don’t think you’re dating he’s already picked out the names of your kids.

“Child of Man?” You heard the familiar voice of Hornton call out to you in your garden. You smiled, turning around to face him. “It’s nice to see you again. I have a gift for you.” He said, holding out a golden necklace with emeralds sprinkled in. When you tried to refuse the gift, saying it was too expensive to get ‘just because’ he only shook his head and put it around your neck. “All the stars in the sky would be too little to give you, and every jewel in my horde pales in comparison to your beauty. If only you wear this, then you will surely compare to my father when you take your place at my side. Although, I believe you already do in both appearance and wit.”

Lilia Vanrouge -

Old fae bat man

He flirts with you, but it ends up being either too old-timey or too fae for you to understand

For the old-timey side; According to Wikipedia, “Gifts accompanied courtship in the form of a man proving coins, trinkets or clothing to the woman he is trying to woo.” So, he gets you various gifts, like coins, jewelry that he has, and whatever else you’re interested in.

I assume that because he’s such a long-lived fae, they range from ‘I found this stone in the garden’ to ‘Here’s a 1000-year-old artifact capable of destroying the world if you hold onto it wrong’

For the fae side; Male bats court by making various noises (screaming, honking, singing), flicking their wings/showing off how good they are at flying, and grooming the other party. I’m interpreting this as singing to you, playing with your hair, and trying to impress you in flight class.

Also, him humming old love songs to you and playing with your hair I can’t-

Lilia was sitting next to you on the couch, as you flipped through various movies on the television he had in his room. You were in his arms, with his hands in your hair, braiding wherever he could get enough hair to do so. “Hey, Beastie?” He chuckled as you sighed at the lack of familiar movies. “I really do care for you quite a bit. Also, there’s this one Halloween movie that came out a year or two ago. Terror is Trending, or something. We could watch that.” He laughed again and started humming. It seemed to be a classical piece. When you asked what he was singing, he said “Dichterliebe, Robert Schumann’s Op. 48., movement 11.” He smiled at you, and then laughed at your confusion. “Just put the movie on already, Beastie.”

Silver “Vanrouge” -

The meeting scene from Sleeping Beauty

That’s it, that’s my idea

Due to the lack of inspiration, he gets a slightly longer drabble, though?

You were walking in the woods, pausing at a shallow river, singing to yourself. It wasn’t long until you heard a horse trotting towards you. You turned to face it, and Silver smiled as you did. “It’s nice to see you again, Prefect.” He said, getting off his horse to stand next to the river with you. He looked at you, gently humming the same tune as you were. He reached a hand out to pull you in, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. “Do you know how to dance?” He asked, already starting the movements. When you shook, your head, he laughed, spinning you around. “I’ll teach you. Copy my movements, but backward... 1 2 3, 1 2 3...” He started to dance with you, slowly going from repeating the pattern to singing lightly. He was softly smiling, staring at you even as your eyes were focused on your feet. However, it didn’t take long before his horse seemed to tire of this, pushing the two of you in. “Samson!” Silver cried out, now soaking wet and a bit banged up from shielding you from the fall. “And after I promised you an extra bucket of oats to come out here... No carrots for you tonight.” He spoke, looking at you as you asked him why he had done so. Silver only smiled and responded, “There was something strange about you, and I heard your voice earlier. You’re almost too beautiful to be real. I thought it was some mysterious being, a wood sprite or a fae. Truly lovely either way.”

Sebek Zigvolt -

He tries to protect you like the knight that he aspires to be

He will infodump to you about Malleous or Brair Valley or something else of the sort if you let him

Also, he’s half fae, which means fae/crocodile courting rituals.

Crocodiles mainly bump snouts as far as I can tell, so expect many boops from him.

Also, piggyback rides and playful nips if you get close enough to him

“And that is why Wakasama is the greatest mage in our time!” Sebek finished, still carrying you around the school. When you tried again to tell him it wasn’t needed, Sebek scoffed. “Foolish Human! You said that your leg was tired after running in flight class, and so you must rest your legs lest you injure yourself!” He said, bopping his nose against yours. “Besides, you must know by now that as a friend of Wakasama, it is my job to defend you as I would him! In not doing so, I would be committing a sin worse than just letting you walk by yourself! As such, I will accompany you to and from class from now on. Be grateful, Human!”

RSA+NBC:

Che’nya -

Che’nya will try to pull as many pranks on you as he can

Appearing in random places, taking little things from you, and other things showing up in random places you never put them.

All around being a little menace and trying to make your daily life as annoying as possible

You sighed, looking towards the floating smile next to you. It laughed, as you held up the empty pencil case, asking it how he expected you to be able to do your homework now. He only chuckled, the rest of his head and shoulders appearing. “Stay pawsitive, Prefect! No need to be so catty!” You rolled your eyes, to which the boy simply snickered and rubbed his head against your cheek. “Come on, my puns are purrfect!” He pulled a pencil out of seemingly thin air, letting you take it from him. “And I’ve got plenty of pens back at RSA if you’d like to take a weekend trip to see me.”

Neige Leblanche - Kinda angsty, but not much

He’s a sweet guy first and foremost, and his having a crush on you reflects that.

He buys you flowers, takes you on walks in nature, romantic stuff like that.

Maybe watching cheesy old movies with you and cuddling

He wants to be your friend before he dates you, though, and won’t make a move until after you can see what life would be like if you were dating him considering how famous he is.

He needs to make sure that you’re comfortable with the fame you’ll gain, and that you love him for more than just his popularity.

Neige sighed, biting his lower lips. He was situated in your arms on the floor of his dorm room, what you’d define as a cheesy romcom on the TV. The most interesting part was the man going through his DM’s next to you. He snuggled into you a bit more as you asked him what was wrong, to which he said “Just... Hate comments and stuff. They’re really mean sometimes. Saying stuff...” He took a deep breath again, and melted against you. “Thank you for treating me like I’m a normal person. It means... So much to me. I... Care for you so much.”

Rollo Flamme - Rollo's got yandere tendency's

Unfortunately, I can in no way see Rollo having a light crush on anyone

For him, I imagine it’s an ‘all or nothing’ situation

So, you’ll end up with a very obsessive and objectively evil wizard trying to win your heart by any means necessary

But this is not the post for that, so he’s getting toned down to fit into a little drabble

“Mon amour, how are you feeling?” Rollo asked you, coming into the area that you were lying in. You had been resting in the infirmary since coming back from the destruction he caused, and he sat on the edge of the bed. You turned away from him, closing your eyes and saying that you had no desire to speak to him. Rollo sighed, “Please, my dear? I am begging you, just talk to me.” You shook your head, but he took your hand and kissed your knuckles anyway. “Then I will wait for you to want to speak to me again. However, I do ask that it be soon. I cannot imagine my life without you, my dear angel, and I do not intend to live without you forever.”

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parkersbliss · 1 month ago

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the 141 and their obsessed girlfriend

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, maybe a little too much that some of the things you say are... concerning to say the least.

warnings: kind of gory for simon, sexual innuendo, death threat, reader is just unhinged and in love with her man fr

a/n: if you get it, you get it. these all may or may nOT be things I've said to my boyfriend to which he said I was "batshit crazy but in a sexy way"

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Ghost:

You sigh, laying your head down on Simon’s chest. His reaction is instinctive, an arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You snuggle further into him, his warmth radiating onto your skin. A reminder to you of where your home truly was.

You can hear his heartbeat in his chest, pumping at a steady pace. You count each thump, rhythmic and soft. Faintly, you hear the sound of air moving in and out of his lungs and the slight bubbling of his stomach from the food you had eaten earlier.

Simon’s hand strokes your lower back, drawing circles as his eyes focus on the rugby match. He’s unaware of his actions, something he’s too used to when he lies with you. He likes feeling the warmth, the subtle pulse, and shivers. It’s a reminder that you’re real.

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to hear the narration of the game. There was something so comforting to listen to him, affirming what you knew was true. Your boyfriend was alive, his heart circulating the blood through his body. You push yourself further into his chest, wanting to be closer. You couldn’t get any closer, you knew that, but you needed to be. There was some part of you that kept urging for it.

“Simon,” You call out.

He looks down at you. “Hm?”

You meet his eyes. “I want to cut through your skin, open your ribcage, and feel your heart.” You said it casually, not faltering and maintaining eye contact with him. You needed to crawl into his chest and live there, be one with him. Closer.

Simon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink at your words. “I’d want nothing more than to have you cradle my heart in your hands.”

You move to straddle him, resting your legs on either side of his hips and leaning your chin on his sternum so you can really look at him. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

He scoffs. “Quite the opposite.”

“Even if I want to live inside your chest?”

“If I could make that happen, I would.” He runs a hand through your hair, tugging gently at the knots.

You smile at him. “I’d let you live in mine and use my lungs as your personal trampoline.”

Simon chuckles a beautiful sound to you and lets his hand rest on your hips. “I would be honored.”

You trace patterns on his chest, huffing. “I just want to live in you.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll just have to settle for my dick in you.”

You purse your lips from on top of him. “I guess that’ll do.”

Gaz:

You set your phone on the bedside table, lying on your side to look at your boyfriend. He was shirtless, with nothing but his briefs on in bed. Your eyes trace up and down him, taking in all the curves of his muscles and the lines of his abs to the slight stubble of a beard and the downward slope of his nose. God, he was so pretty.

As if on cue, he turns to look at you. “What?” He murmurs in that voice of his. Kind, but a hint of grit to it. He made it so easy for your thoughts to run wild. You wanted to have his kids. See his eyes in them, the curve of his nose. Actually, scratch that you wanted—“I wanna get you pregnant,” You blurt out.

Kyle laughs, loud. He isn’t sure he quite heard you correctly. He hopes he did, but then again, you did have a knack for breaking silence with something worth talking about. “What?”

“I wanna get you pregnant,” You repeat.

He stills, staring at you and how your face is unwavering. He’s not quite sure what to make of that sentence. He stares at you, your lips pursed in thought and eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief. “That’s simply not possible.”

“I know,” You said. “But I just want to be able to like fuck you for once.”

“Oh my god.”

You shake your head, suddenly aware of how unhinged you sound. But that’s just what Kyle did to you. You were downright obsessed with him. Everything about him made your thoughts melt into a pile of mush and goo. One look at him had you practically reeling. You couldn’t fathom how he was real and yours, nonetheless. “Sorry! You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s like I need to bend you ov—,”

“Babe,” He cuts you off. “Okay! I get it.”

“No, but like—,"

He raises his brows at you. “It’s not biologically possible.” He restates, emphasizing that he was not letting that happen and neither was the world. Thank god, he thinks.

You flop down onto your back on the bed with a groan. “So unfair. We should be like seahorses.”

Kyle hums, choosing to humor you. “Uh-huh, sorry babe.”

“I’m just so obsessed with you. I have so many feelings I just… I don’t know what to do with it.”

Kyle’s hand traces up and down your arm. “Well, we could start with not getting me pregnant.” He moves to situate himself on top of you, pressing his nose into your neck. “But maybe there’s a compromise here, hm?” He kisses the soft skin, and once again, your brain melts into nothing. He was so good to you. He made it easy for you to forget everything in the world but his name on your tongue. So you couldn’t get him pregnant. There was a better idea ahead.

“Sounds good to me.”

Soap:

You sat at the table next to Johnny, coffee in hand. You both sit in silence, observing the people passing by on the street. You make note of a man frantically texting on his phone, a little girl chasing after a bird, a couple clinging on to each other.

People watching. A favorite pastime for the two of you.

You watch as a girl walks by, her gaze lingering on your boyfriend a second longer than you’d like. Her eyes rake up and down his figure, and she pulls out her phone, no doubt texting someone.

You turn to Johnny, who’s oblivious to it. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

His head snaps towards you. “What, love?”

“That girl,” You gesture with your head. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Why?”

“She looked at you.”

Your boyfriend nearly spits out his coffee. “So you’re gonna kill her?”

You glare at him. “That’s merciful.”

“Oh really?” He jests you.

You nod your head, setting down your coffee and pulling out your phone. “If I really wanted to fuck with her, then I could find her home address and slightly misplace all the objects in her flat and watch her go insane.”

Johnny stares at you, concern etched into his face. His eyes sweep your face for any ounce of joke, but he knows you’renot. He always wanted a possessive girlfriend. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” You correct. “If I ever see anyone look at you like that again, I’m going to call an airstrike on them.”

He grabs your hands. “Love, you never have to worry about anyone else.”

“I don’t worry. They should worry. If they wanna stare, then they can stare at the ceiling before I gouge their eyes out.”

Johnny sighs. He loves you, truly. But to say you weren’t sometimes a little unhinged was an understatement. You always had a jealous streak about you, it’s what initially drew him in. That fire he saw in your eyes, dangerous but beckoning him closer. The idea of a possessive girlfriend really did turn him on. It was just moments like these that he wished he could carry around a giant sign that said “Please don’t look at me unless you wanna die.”

“You’re something else, you know?” He asked, running his thumb over your knuckles.

You melt a little at the gesture, and he can see your shoulders relax. “You’re mine.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “True, and you never have to do that. So please stop threatening random people on the street in public.”

You smile at him. He was so sweet. “You’ll never find a bitch crazier than me, baby.”

“I never want to,” Johnny insists. “Though, you can show me crazy in a different way…”

You can see his eyes sparkling with something and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands. “Let’s go home.”

Price:

You’re sat next to Price on the couch. He’s got a hand slung over your shoulder, keeping you close as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm, a giant teddy bear covered in rippling muscles. His beard scratches the top of your head, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, you love the feeling of it when you’re kissing. The soft pinch of his hair against your face.

But honestly, you loved everything about him. There wasn’t one thing about him you could dislike. Well, maybe that he was gone so long sometimes. In reality, it just made you want him more though. It created special moments like this, where you knew time was futile.

You sigh, playing with the hairs of his beard. You feel like them against your fingertips, pinching and prodding.

You gaze up at your husband, his blue eyes focused on the screen and dark lashes contrasting with his pale skin.

“Honey,” You murmur.

He hums, looking down at you. “Yes?”

You cock your head at him. “I want to take your beard hair and make it into matching sweaters for us.”

Price, unfazed by most things, is fazed by this. He could take a bullet, and wouldn’t flinch at a grenade or a gun pointed at his face. But that.

That was a sentence he wasn’t sure how to unpack.

“What?” He asked.

You giggle a little. “You know, the clippings in the bathroom. What if I started collecting them to make a sweater?”

Price nods, humoring you. “Darling, please don’t do that.”

“Why not?” You pout, sticking out your bottom limit.

“That would be itchy,” He insists. “My beard is already itchy enough. You don’t want to wear it too.”

You don’t, he’s right. You just wanted to say something to see his face contort. He was so comfortable around you that it made it easy to catch him off guard. And really, a part of you was that obsessed with him.

“Fair point, I suppose,” You concede.

He’s surprised you surrender so easily. “You don’t already have a collection going, do you?”

You laugh, patting his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He pauses. “No, I would not.” You snuggle closer to him, going back to playing with his beard. His arm drops to your waist, giving it a squeeze. “You’re insane, my dear.”

You grin up at him, planting a kiss on his lips. “In more ways than one.”

Price kisses you back, sneaking his hands under your shirt and higher. “Amen.”

He was never religious, but that man did get on his knees for you.

-- END --

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confused-lover · 9 months ago

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All The Hugs

Character x reader / Platonic!Ortho x reader Summary: How the characters would hug you Warnings: None (that I can think) (english is not my first language)

Riddle Rosehearts: Oh man, he would be so awkward, like, if you are not in an already established relationship he couldn't even hug you. He'd let you hug him but would be stiff as a board.

Ace Trappola: Would totally yank you in and squeeze you so hard but it'll last a maximum of 5 seconds. If you want it to last more you gotta stay wrapped around him, he’ll give in. Hopefully.

Deuce Spade: He’d wrap his arms around your shoulders but he won't press his body to yours, my boy is too respectful. If you don’t care about “decency” and hug him properly he’ll blush like no one’s business.

Cater Diamond: I totally see him hugging your waist and swaying just a bit. If he's feeling cheeky he’d snap a photo so quick you wouldn't even notice until you see it posted on Magicam an hour later.

Trey Clover: He’d be so normal about it. Just a normal hug. Thanks the seven for the one sane dude here.

Leona Kingscholar: No hug. You either snuggle in bed or you give up. But those cuddles, man are they good, you two stay like that for a minimum of 2 hours. The maximum does not exist. If you don’t get out of there yourself, you’ll never leave.

Jack Howl: Also a normal hug, he just wraps his arms around you and stays like that for a time, I see him probably taking in your scent but that’s about it. Please don’t mention the helicopter that is his tail. Please.

Ruggie Bucchi: You hug him and he pickpockets you, that's it, nothing else to say. Sorry.

Azul Ashengrotto: Just from the hug you know a business proposal is coming. I don't know how he does it but he hugs so professionally. If he’s feeling very romantic tho it’ll all be really slow. He’d remove his glasses and nearly hang limp in your arms.

Jade Leech: His hugs also have very business vibes from him but he’d also slowly caress your back, his fingertips softly touching your spine sending you shivers. He knows what he’s doing, don’t let his smile deceive you, he's nothing but a little shit.

Floyd Leech: you know how his hugs are … you don’t need me to tell you…

Kalim Al-Asim: Warm and fuzzy, like hugging the sun itself. I don't even know how his face doesn't hurt with all the smiling he does. He’d 100% make little jumps when and after he hugs you. If extremely happy he’d probably squeal or something. He’s cute like that.

Jamil Viper: The moment you hug him you can both see and feel his body relax, he'd let out a breath and hug you tightly. Bring you closer to his chest. Best believe this in the only moment of peace he’ll have all day, just let him enjoy it.

Vil Schoenheit: You can feel his neck straining to not touch you, god forbid he ruins his make-up. That’ll make you think that he feels like hugging you is a chore or that he doesn’t like it, don't believe that, he loves it. Just wait until it’s the end of the day and all his make-up is gone, once you get in bed you’ll be able to lay your head on his chest and cuddle all night

Еpel Felmier: If you're shorter or taller doesn’t matter, he will wrap his arms around your shoulders and hug you as strongly as he can. Will think it’s manly. Please go along with it or he’ll have a crisis once alone in his dorm room.

Rook Hunk: It's happening when you least expect it. You think you're alone, then boom, you get hugged. He’ll stay there as long as you permit it and will spew poetics non-stop. If you are not one to hug people then he'll absolutely brag about it to everyone and their mother.

Idia Shroud: He won't ever initiate, so it's on you this time around. Whatever type of hug it is, long or short, tight or loose, you won’t be seeing him for at least a month after that, he’ll just be hiding until the end of time ( until you and his brother give him no choice and drag him out of his room).

Ortho Shroud: Will hug you, be so happy about it, and then immediately run to his brother to tell him how good it was and list all the mental and physical benefits of hugs. He just wants to help his brother. Cut him some slack.

Malleus Draconia: He sees a hug as a very intimate affair. If you wait for him to hug you then you better be prepared to wait at least 5 months. If you beat him to it he’ll blush. It's gonna be brief and not exactly satisfactory but be prepared to see a ring very soon. Also, he’ll brag. Loudly.

Lilia Vanrouge: Hug attack. It’s a strong embrace if short. Also will shamelessly laugh at your face afterwards.

Silver: More than a hug, it’s a cuddle, his sleeping is quite infectious and you’ll fall right asleep. One of the best naps of your life.

Sebek Zigvolt: He sees you go in for a hug, sidesteps you, yells about how improper all of it is, and then a second later hugs you anyway. Other than a broken eardrum the hug is unimpressive, not exactly something to write home about. Maybe write to his home, for the medical bills, for your ears.

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months ago

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Could I request the Batboys with an s/o who has unexpected/unsuspecting strength? Like the batboys try to hug their partner from behind but the s/o has been a little jumpy lately so they panic and accidentally end up throwing them? But instead of being angry at their s/o, the batboys are relieved bc they know that their love can protect themself?

Dick

Managed to put his skills to good use as he landed soundly on his hands in a perfect handstand with perfect form, before stopping his charade and went back to standing on his own two feet.

‘Oh my goodness dick are you okay?’ You asked, scared that you might’ve accidentally hurt him with that throw.

Dick smiled as he did some basic stretches to show you that he was fine and not in any pain. ‘I’m fit as a fiddle my love, nice throw you could’ve knocked someone out with a throw like that.’ He says casually as you could only rub your temples to ease the oncoming headache.

‘That’s not exactly reassuring..’ you trial off.

‘In a city like Gotham, it’s the reassurance you need to keep safe.’ Dick replied seriously now as he moved towards you and brought you into his arms, ‘it lets me know that you’ll be fine without me with reflexes that fast.’ He adds as he presses kisses into the top of your head, face and shoulders.

‘I’ve lived here long enough to know how to protect myself Dick, you don’t need to worry.’ You reassure him but the worry upon his face didn’t go away as he buried it deep into the side of your neck.

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep sweetheart, those streets only get more and more dangerous by the day and I’d be damned if I let you go out there without knowing you’ll be completely safe.’ Dick replies as he peppered your neck in kisses, tightening his hold on you as he does to ingrate you into his very being. ‘So please don’t do anything that’ll hurt you in the end, please.’

You smiled softly as you’d rubbed his back soothingly, kissing his shoulders and parts of his neck that you could reach in hopes of calming his heart and soul. ‘I won’t, you tend to do that sort of thing for a living.’ You joked and dick pinched your side, causing you to yelp.

‘I mean it.’ Dick pulled away from your neck to cup your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘I don’t want to loose you to something so easily preventable.’

‘And you won’t.’ You tell him as you rested your hands atop of his own, rubbing your nose against his. ‘I’ll be extra carful and will throw anyone that looks at me with bad intent.’ You promised him, stealing a kiss from his lips as an extra measure.

‘Good, but I think I should at least help you with some basic defence just to be certain!’ Dick said and you couldn’t help but listen to him intently, it was the least you could do to help him feel confident in your abilities to keeping yourself safe.

Damian

Lands on his feet like an agile cat.

‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Damian I don’t know what came over me-‘

Damian holds up his hand. ‘No need to apologise, consider this a test for when I can’t be near to keep you safe my treasure.’

You furrow your brows. ‘A test? So you weren’t just trying to hug me from behind just now?’

Damian flushed. ‘Nonsense. A hug is beneath me.’ He splutters.

You smiled as you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘Are you sure?’ You asked as you watched Damian attempt to glare at you, but it only ends up looking like a really cute pout.

‘Certain.’ He says but he knows you don’t believe it.

‘Then I guess you don’t want forehead kisses or hand holding anymore either since it’s all beneath you.’ You taunt as you begin to walk away from him.

‘Do not show me your back my treasure or I’ll-‘

‘End up being thrown across the room again?’ You inquired as you looked over your shoulder at him, smiling. ‘I can hold my own against you my dear Dami so I would act with caution.’ You added teasingly as Damian couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you were going to be okay but just to be safe he was more then willing to teach you basic defence as a precaution, after all he can’t have you getting too cocky on him now.

‘I would very much like to test that theory my darling in a sparing match.’ Damian proposed and you stiffened, even if he was going to go easy on you that don’t mean you won’t walk out with bruising and a lesson in not getting cocky with a trained assassin since basically birth.

Jason

Deeply relived at the fact that you could toss someone of his size across the room like it’s nothing.

He didn’t even care that his back might be a little bruised, he’s been dealt worse but he’s smiling widely at you as you stare at him as though he’s got two heads.

‘You’ve got quite the throw on your sweetheart.’

‘You’re smiling, I could’ve seriously hurt you Jason Todd and you’re smiling!’ You scolded as you made your way over to him to check up on him, only for him to wave you off.

‘It’s fine, it’ll heal in due time but seriously are you sure you’re not a meta human or?’ Jason trails off as he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, content and happy knowing that you could keep yourself safe from harm but that isn’t going to stop him from checking up on you now and then as red hood.

It was one thing to be strong, it’s another to be smart and cautious of your opponent.

‘Just someone with stupidly abnormal strength.’ You tell him as you held him by the biceps. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

Jason chuckled as he kissed your forehead, from your nose and quickly on the mouth. ‘Of course I am! I’m just glad that you can keep yourself safe when I can’t be nearby to do so myself, I’m really, really happy as I wouldn’t even let you out on those streets with how dangerous it’s become lately.’

‘And I want to keep you here with me to keep you off of the streets, from getting hurt because of the same thing.’ You retorted as you kissed his cheeks and nose softly. ‘I don’t care if you’re trained for this or not, I will still worry for your well being Jason.’ You add as Jason pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as his warmth encompasses you in a protective manner.

‘Now you know how I feel chipmunk.’ Jason murmured, ‘even though you’ve got strength on your side and can knock a fucker out of they overstep a boundary,’ you couldn’t help but chuckle at that as Jason smiled at the sound of you chuckling, it warmed his heart like no other could, ‘I’m still going to train you up on other aspects just to be certain and besides there’s nothing wrong with have a few good tricks up your sleeve.’ He adds.

You nuzzled yourself further into his chest, closing your eyes as you focused on his breathing’s his warmth and his heartbeat, any and all signs that he was very much alive and well. ‘If it makes you happy.’

‘It will.’ Jason replied.

‘Then I’ll make sure not to ogle you when you’re deep in concentration, it’s an attractive look on you.’ You said lightheartedly as Jason chuckled, holding you tighter to his chest as he replied, ‘then I’ll make sure to be extra deep in concentration, just for you.’ You lightly swat his biceps as he bursts out laughing.

You’ll be a okay…that and Jason thinks he’s got a bruise forming on his bicep from the playful hit.

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badjokesbyjeff · 8 months ago

Text

There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted.

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

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l1tw1ck · 1 year ago

Text

Newlyweds

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!male reader

🕷️Word Count: 1,947🕷️

[Part One] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Menstruation (No Period Sex), Lingerie, Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Impregnating, Mating Press, Lactation Mention, Praise Kink

Miguel wakes up with pain. A lot of pain. Along with discomfort and the familiar feeling and smell of blood. Of course he starts his period unexpectedly in your bed. Not only that but he has cramps and a hangover. Great way to start the morning. He hopes you at least have advil. He taps your shoulder and wakes you up.

“What's wrong?” You ask, noticing that it's still pretty early in the morning.

“I’m on my period.” He frowns. “Sorry…about your sheets.”

“Don't apologize, it's not your fault. Do you need anything? Food, meds, something hot?” You get out of the bed. Miguel shakily gets out as well.

“A shower would be nice…and some ibuprofen? Or advil?”

“No problem. Luckily for you, I have some pads or tampons you can use. I keep them for when family visits. Do you use a heating pad? I have one of those too.”

“Yeah, a heating pad would be helpful.” He nods. “I prefer pads.”

“Okay, go ahead and get in the shower, I’ll leave some clothes out for you to wear. Oh, and you’ll need to eat something too. Is there anything you prefer?”

“Whatever you can make is fine.”

“Alright, I'll get everything you need. Take as long as you want in the shower.”

.....

Miguel gets out of the shower and walks into your room. The bed is stripped and the bloody parts are being soaked in a cleaning mixture. He hopes he didn't ruin your mattress. He looks at the pair of boxers you left for him and frowns. It's no surprise that you don't have any panties, why would you? But wearing pads with boxers isn't very….safe. It's a good thing the two of you are neighbors, he’ll have to ask you to get him a pair of underwear. He pulls up the boxers half way and applies the pad, praying that it’ll do the job, and pulls it up completely. He puts on your shirt, happy that it's big on him, and puts on the pair of shorts.

He walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey..”

“Hey! There’s the meds.” You point to the bottle of ibuprofen and cup of water next to it. “I’m making pancakes. How do you like ‘em?”

“With butter and syrup.” Miguel looks at the medicine bottle and concludes that he’ll thankfully only have to take one. He hates taking pain medication because of the risks but they're unbelievably helpful. He sighs, putting a pill in his mouth and swallowing it with water.

“...Hey, at least you're not pregnant yet.” You smile sheepishly.

Miguel chuckles. “We should probably start planning for when I actually am pregnant.”

“Yeah…I’ll have to start packing my things soon, right? I don't want Gabriella to have to worry about moving her stuff here.”

He appreciates how you consider his daughter too. “That’d be the best way.”

“At least we're neighbors, that’ll make the process much easier.”

“That reminds me…can you…can you go to my house and get me a pair of panties? They're specifically made for periods…I have a box of period stuff in my closet, you’ll know it when you see it. I’d go myself but-”

“Don't worry about it, babe. I’ll get it for you. After you eat, you can go lay down in the guest bedroom, I already put the heating pad in there. If you want, I’ll pick Gabi up and bring her here.”

“Please. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You kiss his forehead.

Gabi walks up to your car, confused. “Why are you picking me up?”

“Your dad’s feeling sick so he asked me to come get you.”

“Oh. Is papá okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. He’s just on his period.” You nod. “Come on, get in.”

Gabriella grimaces, feeling bad for her dad. She gets into the backseat and buckles her seatbelt.

“So…What do you think about coming to my place and eating dinner with me and your dad?”

Gabriella grins. “Are you gonna cook?”

“Of course! Whatever you want.”

“Then…Can you make burgers? I haven't had a burger in soo long! Papá sucks at cooking and he thinks fast food burgers are made of rat meat!”

You laugh. “Sure thing. What kind of burger? And do you want fries too? I can make ‘em from scratch.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? I love fries! And I really wanna try a bacon cheeseburger!”

“You got it, Gabi.”

“You’re so good at cooking! I wish Papà could cook like you.” Gabriella wipes her face clean.

“Hey! I can cook just fine, Gabi!”

“Then how come we had to order takeout the other night because you made green goop?”

“Green goop?” You look at Miguel, grinning.

“It was supposed to be green, okay?!”

“Mhm~” You hum in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe I need to save Gabi from your horrible cooking.”

“Please! You guys should get married. Then you can cook us dinner all the time!”

You look at Miguel.

Miguel looks at you and nods. “Well…Actually, mija…”

She looks at him curiously.

“We are getting married.” He can't hide his happiness.

Her entire face lights up. “Really?!” She puts her game down and stands up. “Am I really gonna get an hermanito now?!”

“Yes, mija.” Miguel chuckles.

“When are you gonna order them?!”

“...Order?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You know, go to the stork postal service and order a baby!”

You and Miguel look at her, dumbfounded.

“What?” She frowns.

“Mija…We need to teach you where babies really come from..”

After the horrifying explanation (which was actually very tame compared to the talk Miguel’s parents gave him), Gabriella accepted the fact that babies are in fact not delivered by storks. Miguel doesn't even know where she got that from.

Now she's started to see you as the second father you’ll soon become. Rather than using your name, she calls you dad. It makes you happy to know she's so accepting of you as her father. She invites you to her soccer games and school events and of course you show up to everything you can. She loves that she has two parents. It's so comforting to see the two of you in the bleachers while she's playing. And now it's a lot less likely for her to be alone at events. If Miguel’s working, you usually show up and vice versa.

And of course she’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding. She’s almost more excited about the wedding than the two of you are.

Miguel walks down the aisle, holding a beautiful bouquet of red and blue roses. He looks gorgeous. You can't wait for your honeymoon.

He walks up to you and gets into place.

“You look beautiful.” You smile at him.

“Thank you..” He replies, bashful.

You’re lost in Miguel’s beauty for the entire ceremony, only paying attention to when it's time to exchange rings, say your vows, and say “I do.”

You go in to kiss Miguel, sad that you can only peck him on the lips. You don't want to traumatize all the children with a french kiss. You pick him up and carry him bridal style.

“Do you wanna stay?” You ask.

“I wanna make our baby.” He says.

You nod and start running towards the jet you rented. Everyone in the crowd watches in shock as you abandon the wedding. Miguel throws his bouquet and a ton of people scramble to grab it. Thankfully for you two, Gabriella is staying with her grandparents so you can escape to your honeymoon without worry.

Miguel walks out of the bathroom, dressed in a beautiful lingerie set. A red lacy bra and panties along with matching stockings with garters to hold them up.

You hurry over to him. “You look amazing.” You grope his ass and give him a soft kiss. “Lay down.”

Miguel gets onto the bed and lies down, waiting for your next move. You grab his thighs and kneel in front of the bed, pulling him close to you. There's a gap in his panties for easy access. You press kisses along his thighs, occasionally sucking and biting them. You move to his pussy, pressing a kiss against his erect t-dick. He twitches in response. You bring it into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.

“Fu- fuck–” He moans, curling his toes. He throws his head back and gasps as you start sucking him off while simultaneously slipping two of your fingers inside him. Miguel arches his back, moans getting increasingly louder as you finger him. “God yes–” He grins. “‘M gonna come-”

You pull away from him, still working his insides with your fingers. “What do you say, Miguel?”

“Pl- please~ please let me come, Daddy~”

“Good boy.” You go back to sucking on his dick. Miguel shakes as he squirts, drenching you in his pleasure. You lick up his slick before pulling away. “Tell me when you're ready.” You stand up and take your clothes off.

“I’m ready..” He moves backwards and spreads his folds with two of his fingers. “Please breed me, Daddy..”

You smirk. You climb onto the bed and align your length with his hole. Miguel watches intently as you slowly ease yourself inside him. The two of you watch as a bulge appears in his stomach the further you go in. “You're gorgeous, Miguel.” You run your hands up his body and grope his breasts. “You’ll let me get a taste once you start lactating, right?”

Miguel smiles. “Just a taste.”

You bring him into a deep kiss and inch yourself further inside him. Miguel gently moves his hips once he feels you bottom out, desperate to have you fuck him. You part from the kiss and move to his neck, lightly kissing his skin. “I love you.” You murmur before pulling away. You grab his legs and move him into a mating press. Miguel barely has time to process what you just did thanks to your sudden and rough thrusts. He grabs onto your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and moans loudly as you properly breed his pussy. He can barely keep his eyes focused but just glimpsing upon your aroused expression makes his heart race even faster. It perfectly displays how much you love him and how good he's making you feel. He happily listens to your breathy words of praise and your low sounds of pleasure, falling deeper in love with you as the two of you completely tie yourselves together forever. He’s never been happier.

He already feels himself reaching his orgasm. “‘M clo- oh- close~!” He cries out. “Fuck-” He gasps, suddenly coming. He digs deeper into your skin when he feels you slow down. “Don’t- don’t you dare stop-” He almost growls at you. You take that as a warning and resume your previous pace. He manages to stay sane even as you continue to fuck his sensitive cunt, all for the sake of feeling you impregnate him. Just that is enough to give him strength to keep going.

“You're doing so- so good, Miguel.” You let out a low sound of pleasure. “Such a good boy for me..”

He moans happily.

“And you feel so fucking good..” Your breathing becomes more labored. “Making me come so fast with your tight pussy-” You groan, stopping as you fill him up with your first load of the night. He feels euphoric as your cum invades his insides.

“More…” He looks up at you with the cutest expression.

“I won't stop until I’m shooting blanks, baby.”

Miguel grins. He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your kids.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x reader #bottom miguel o'hara #miguel x male reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x male reader #across the spiderverse smut #across the spiderverse x male reader #🕯️miguel o'hara #🕯️marvel #🕯️spider man

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webslingingslasher · 2 years ago

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hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things.

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy.

Needy.

Needy, needy, needy.

Needy, he called you needy.

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were?

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless.

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind.

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called.

Silence drifted on the line.

“Petey?”

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid.

“Peter, you there?”

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial.

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear.

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?”

You think it’s Mark.

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second?

Notes from future self, don’t.

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.”

Good?

Good, that’s it?

Good?

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately.

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign?

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.”

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.”

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker.

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.”

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him.

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about.

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk?

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint.

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.”

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean?

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call.

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan.

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.”

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right.

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.”

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different.

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him.

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out.

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real.

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t.

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door.

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored.

Like his four missed calls.

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?”

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them.

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it.

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind.

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore.

“It’s okay.”

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said.

“It’s��okay?”

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.”

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.”

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are.

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended.

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things.

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it.

“Don’t you have plans tonight?”

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.”

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy?

Not tonight.

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.”

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time.

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves.

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.”

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.”

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-”

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.”

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?”

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest.

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.”

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it.

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?”

You shrug, “I dunno.”

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change.

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?”

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed.

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited.

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.”

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on.

“So what did you mean?”

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it.

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much.

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Your eyes narrow, “liar.”

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you.

“Can we talk?”

You look at him oddly, “we are?”

“Private.”

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it.

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.”

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip.

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand.

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair.

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.”

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.”

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever.

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.”

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right?

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question.

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.”

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears.

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.”

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #my writing

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kyeomszone · 2 months ago

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pov ○ lee dokyeom

tags. voyeurism (?). mirror sex. oral (f receiving, m receiving). fingering. size kink. belly bulge. penetrative sex (vaginal). darcyphillia. overstimulation. afab reader. orgasm denial. dom/sub undertones.

synopsis. you get filthy with a mirror basically

You tick an eyebrow as you step into the room and note the newest addition. An amused smile curls on your lips as you look at Seokmin through the reflective surface. It isn’t lost on you, the way the placement of the mirror made it so that the bed was completely visible through it.

A tingle runs up your spine as you recall the conversation a few weeks ago.

“So?” Seokmin mumbles, his chest pressed to your back, his fingers digging into your hips as his mouth works along the hinge of your jaw and neck, nipping and licking and leaving behind splotches of red that’ll bloom into shades of purples and blue by the morning.

“So.” You repeat, head tilting up and to the left, eyes focused on the reflection of Seokmin in the mirror, his teeth and tongue moving across the expanse of your neck.

His fingers trail up from your hip, working at the buttons of your shirt to give himself access to more of your skin, “Thoughts?”

“Just about what you’ll do,” You tell him, biting your lip to hold back a whimper when his teeth sink into your shoulders. “About what your plan is.”

“Nothing much,” Seokmin pulls away from your shoulder as he stares ahead, looking you in the eye through the mirror, “Just want you to see what it looks like when I ruin you.”

Your breath hitches at the tone of his voice, something dark and heavy, a juxtaposition to his usual soft and sweet voice and you want to burrow yourself in it. There is a dull throb between your legs as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Want anything specific, love?” Seokmin’s voice is softer now, his breath warm against your ear.

“Do whatever you want,” You say, feeling his smile against your skin, “I’ll let you know if it gets too much.”

“Don’t look away from the mirror,” Seokmin’s voice is stern when he says this, the syllables sharp and you know that if you were to disobey, it would not be kind for you and so you nod, eyes focused on his form in the mirror.

“Good girl,” Seokmin presses a kiss against your cheek as his hands move to take your shirt off of you completely, and unhooks your bra before moving to your pants, the fabric pooling at your feet. You bite back a moan at the praise, the throb between your legs increasing as heat pools in your stomach when you catch yourself in the mirror━ only in your panties, chest heaving and eyes wide.

“Such a pretty little slut,” Seokmin mumbles against your skin, one of his hands on your tits, playing with the numb while the other digs into your hip, painful to the degree where it shoots pleasure up your spine. “Keep looking at yourself, sweetheart..”

He continues leaving kisses against you, the hand on your hip lowering until he slips a finger into your wet hole, fucking into you before slipping another one in, moving them and scissoring them, completely ignoring your aching clit.

“Seok━” You pant out, leaning your weight completely against him, your legs are shaky, unable to hold your weight and it feels as if you would crumple to the floor if not for his hold on you. “Seok, please need more.”

You watch him smile, slipping another finger in and finally, finally pressing against your cilt, making a low drawn-out moan fall from your lips as you completely collapse against him. He lets out a breathy laugh at your reaction, working on your clits while stretching your whole, fucking into you with his fingers.

It isn’t long before you feel the build-up of pressure, the muscles of your stomach and thighs tightening and tightening until━

Your body sags against his, pleasure washing over you as you come with his name on your lips but Seokmin keeps going, his thumb circling and pressing against your cilt and the pleasure mixes with hints of pain, your body spasming as tears start to gather in your eyes, overstimulation making itself home. But your hands stay firmly on your side, knowing that if you wanted him to stop, a snap or two taps would have him do so.

“Seok━ Seokmin, baby I━” Your breath hitches as another orgasm washes upon you, your third one since he started and you can feel your mind growing hazy. You can feel him move you, a plushness against your legs. You blink and Seokmin’s face in front of you, lips downturned and eyes worried.

“We had rules love,” Seokmin’s voice is soft as he speaks, “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“I didn’t want you to.” You say, the confusion clear on his tone.

“You blacked out for a bit”

“Oh,” You breathe out, “I’m fine, I promise.” You sigh at the raised eyebrow he sends your way. Leaning down, you press your lips to his, “I promise.”

Seokmin nods, slotting his lips to yours, his tongue finding its way to your mouth as his hands settle on your hips, his thumb brushing against bare skin, making you shiver into the heat of his mouth.

Slowly, his mouth trails down, your lips to your neck to your tits, leaving a wake of red splotches. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, squeezing the tender flesh as he parts your legs, his mouth attaching itself to your core.

“Keep looking at yourself sweetheart,” Seokmin says, mouth a breath away from your clit, the vibrations making you moan. You swallow and nod, forcing yourself to keep your eyes open and on the mirror, taking in the sight of you looking like a mess, with tear-stained cheeks, chest heaving, mouth open wide and eyes almost a shade of black.

His mouth works on you, sucking at the bundle of nerves, fingers moving in and out of your whole and the pressure starts to build up, moans and whines falling from your lips as your eyes flutter close and body arches and━

A whine falls from your lips as he pulls away, eyes opening to look down at Seokmin and━ oh.

Oh shit.

“One rule, sweetheart,” Seokmin moves from between your legs to crouching in front of you so that he is now at eye level. His fingers weave into your hair, curling at the roots and he pulls your head forward, pain shooting up your skull and heat pooling in your stomach at the act. “Just one”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.”

“I━”

“On your knees,” He orders and you immediately follow, sliding off the bed and on your knees in front of him. “Now, make up for it. Show me that you're a good girl that listens.”

“Yes sir,” the words slip from your mouth before you can think through them, your mind too preoccupied with opening the zipper of his pants, lowing it just enough to get to his boxers and taking out his cock before taking him in your mouth to hear the low sound he makes from the back of his throat, his fingers making home in your hair.

You swallow around his length, tongue tracing the shape of his head as you swallow the salty taste. You hear him moan, head thrown back and mouth open as you swallow around him, your hands on the rest of his cock that you couldn’t take in.

You work at his length, licking and kissing and tracing the veins and ridges of his thick girth, taking him in your mouth, bobbing up and down his shaft as he tugs at your hair, shallowly fucking into your mouth.

“It’s like you're made for his,” Seokming moans out when you hollow your cheek, sucking him further in, “My pretty little toy.”

You moan around his cock, your core throbbing at his words. You continue to do what you were. You ignore the burn in your jaw and the ache in your knees as you work your way through him at an almost reverent pace until you can feel him tensing around you.

“Stop.” Seokmin orders and you immediately do, taking him out of your mouth as you look up at him. You have to blink a few times to get the tears off of your lashes, taking lungfuls of air as you wait for him to tell you what to do next.

“Up,” Seokmin says and you stand up, your knees shaky and breath still coming out short. He pulls you to his lap, his cock pressing against your back as he takes hold of your jaw, making you look in the mirror.

Your skin burns red as you take in the sight of you━ dishevelled hair, red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks and a mix of drool and precum trailing down your mouth, glistening in the low light of the room. You look like a mess, like you were used and passed around and it’s humiliating and it makes your cilt throat, pleasure curling in your stomach.

“Such a pretty little slut,” Seokmin says, kissing along your jaw, “my pretty little slut.”

You moan, knees shuffling as you try to get some sort o pressure against your throbbing bundle of nerves and Seokmin seems to have noticed it, a low laugh falling from his lips as he smirks at you through the mirror.

“You filthy whore,” Seokmin almost growls out, holding you in place and you let out a pathetic mix of a moan and a whimper. One of his hands disappears behind you and━ oh.

A choked moan falls from your lips as he lifts you and sets you on his cock, your spongy walls pulling him in. Your eyes close, your head falls back and against his chest as you are stretched to your limits.

Seokmin lets out a groan and you open your eyes to see him staring at your stomach, more specifically━ oh fuck, you stare at the curve of your stomach, eyes wide and mouth open. You knew Seokmin was big, a delicious mix of thick and long that left you aching for days after but to see this, see the physical presentation of it━ fuck, you felt light-headed.

“Seok,” You pant out, staring at him through the mirror. “Seok, baby let me move, please” You beg him when you notice him staying still, eyes on the bulge in your stomach.

Seokmin swallows and nods, his grip on your hips loosening slightly for you to lift yourself up and sink down on him again, Seokmin meeting each of your movements with a thrust of his own. Your eyes are settled in the mirror, particularly on your stomach as it curves with each of his thrusts.

It’s not long before you lose all strength in your body, making Seokmin the one to do all the work as you collapse against him, letting him use your body however he wishes. He plays with your cilt as he fucks into you, leaving you a drooling and moaning mess and soon enough, you can feel the pressure build-up, each of his movements adding and adding and adding until━

“Seokmin!” You shout as your orgasm washes over you, you chest heaving as Sokmin continues to fuck into you, chasing his own release and it takes a few more thrusts until he paints your hole white with his orgasm.

When you’re both cleaned up and settled in the bed, you curl into him. You feel his arms settle on your waist

“Love the mirror.”

Seokmin laughs.

#lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x you #lee dokyeom x reader #lee dokyeom x you #dokyeom x you #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #lee dokyeom smut #lee seokmin smut #seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

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angelbarelywrites · 1 month ago

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♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #tcm #thomas hewitt #house of wax #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #halloween #micheal myers x reader #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #the boy #dead by daylight #brahms heelsire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair

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roanofarcc · 2 months ago

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SCHOOL GROUND BASICS

PAIRING: Pope Heyward x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Pope was a smart kid, which made needing a tutor feel utterly humiliating. To make matters worse, you were enlisted to help, the girl he’d been crushing on since he could remember.

WARNINGS: Pope is the definition of gifted kid burn-out in his story.

masterlist

“My life is over. I’ve officially hit rock bottom,” Pope complained, sprawled out on the sand. His surfboard lay untouched and stuck in the sand a couple of feet away, lined up with the rest of his friends who had spent the afternoon enjoying themselves while Pope wallowed in his own self-pity. They took a break from surfing to join him, snacking on sandwiches and trying to act sympathetic to his cause, even though school wasn’t any of their first priority.

That was fine for them, they all had their own set of skills outside of school that would do them just fine when they had to enter the big bad world. Pope didn’t feel like he did, though. A couple of treasure hunts and near-death experiences wouldn’t shine too bright on his college applications.

Never in his life had his grades dipped below exceptional until he got involved with all of the gold bullshit. Did he regret it, no, of course he didn’t. But he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had a failing grade, a blemish the size of a crater on his record that he needed to scrub clean. To some, maybe that didn’t seem like the end of the world, but to Pope, a failing grade felt like someone had wrapped him in barbed wire.

To make matters even worse, he was no longer neck and neck to be number one in his class. Since he discovered class rankings in elementary school, he was determined to be number one. His only competition came in the form of a girl who matched his intelligence in every way. They had a friendly competition, a back-and-forth battle for the number one spot. But he was way behind, and she was leagues ahead.

“You’ll still graduate, right?” Sarah asked, ringing the salt water from her hair.

Pope stared at the sky, the pretty blue mocking him. “Yeah.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

JJ answered for him. “Pope has a surprisingly competitive spirit. Number one or nothin’.”

“Did Ms. Wright say anything about how you could get your grade up?” Kie asked, forcing a sandwich into Pope’s hand to get him to eat something.

He reluctantly took a bite before he replied, “I think she wants to publicly shame me.” His friends looked at him, confused. “She suggested a tutor.”

JJ laughed loudly, earning a quick slap on the arm from John B. “Sorry! I just ever thought we’d live in a world where the man himself needed to be tortured.”

Pope groaned in pain, his ego more bruised than anything. Since middle school, Pope was the one tutoring people. He helped JJ memorize his times tables. He got John B. to read Of Mice and Men in its entirety and write a B paper over it. He even helped Kie pass chemistry. And now look at him, a disgraced once straight-A student fallen flat on his face.

A warm hand patted his shoulder. He lulled his head to the side to the sympathetic smile of Sarah. “Getting a tutor isn’t so bad, Pope. I had one to help me pass algebra.”

“You guys don’t get it,” Pope sighed.

“Because we’re all dumber than you?” JJ asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No!” Pope quickly said. “You guys aren’t dumb, I’m just…school is my thing, all right? Or it was. It’s what I was the best at. Now what do I got?”

He missed the slightly worried expressions his friends shared with each other. A beat of silence passed before Kie broke it. “School is still your thing. You just need a tutor that’ll get you back on your feet, right?”

“Yeah! Did Ms. Wright suggest anyone?” John B. asked.

Pope groaned once more like he was physically ill. Maybe he was being extra dramatic, but it was just how he felt. “She gave me a couple of names. None of them I want to sit in a room with and listen to them try to explain this shit to me, though.” Because they were his classmates, and having to sit in a room with them knowing that they knew he was failing was humiliating.

For a moment, Pope thought JJ caught a glint of sunlight in his eyes, causing him to squint, but that thought was quickly erased when a smirk fell across JJ’s lips, and he scrambled up from the sand. As he hopped over Pope’s body, he said, “I’ve got you, man.”

Pope didn’t really want to know what he meant by that, but he was forced to when you were suddenly peering down at him. Pope thought he was hallucinating for a moment, but water droplets from your hair sprinkled his skin and he was suddenly very aware of your presence.

Kildare was small, and the attendees of his school he knew almost as well as the back of his hand. You, he paid more attention to than most. If he was being honest, your intellect was what drew him to you. The way you’d always raise your hand in class, beating him to the answer or the way you spoke with much thought and care. To Pope, you were admirable, but he never worked up the courage to talk to you. Before the sharp turn of his life and grade point average, he told himself he’d get to know you before you graduated, but it seemed null and void. He needed to focus on his studies, not on his stupid crushes. Besides, Pope never had the best luck with girls.

But then JJ somehow got you to take a break from surfing and dragged you over to the rest of the group. He had seen you at the beach before, but up close you were even more stunning than when you were at school, more carefree and relaxed in a swimsuit that complimented your body and the rays of sun illuminating you in a glowy wonder.

Kie kicked Pope’s leg, prompting him to clear his throat and sit upright quickly.

“W-What’s up?” Pope managed to get out, cringing at himself as the words tumbled unsmoothly from his lips.

“You need a tutor, and I found you one!” JJ said, proud of himself.

Your lips quirked upwards in a light smile, but a confused one too. “You need a tutor?” You didn’t sound judgmental; your voice was kind but questioning, but Pope wanted to bury his head in the sand and disappear.

“Kind of,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

You seemed to contemplate it for a moment, even though he hadn’t asked you because he was all too embarrassed. Yet, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

JJ clapped you on the shoulder, a cocky smile on his lips that Pope was tempted to smack off of him. “See? Was that so hard?”

Pope was sweating. His hands were clammy, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. What was wrong with him?

“What is wrong with you, dude?” John B. asked, eyeing him from the couch.

“I don’t know, man!”

“I think someone’s nervous,” Sarah said with a teasing smirk. “That girl JJ found to tutor you, she’s pretty, huh?”

Pope stopped his pacing to wipe his hands off on his shorts. “JJ hates me.”

JJ objected. “No, I’m doing you a favor. Killin’ to dogs with one stick.”

“Birds,” Kie interjected. “It’s ‘kill two birds with one stone.’”

JJ furrowed his brows. “Why would someone throw rocks at birds?”

“Why would someone kill a dog with a stick?” John B. retorted.

“Guys!” Pope yelled, drawing their attention. “Can we focus here, please? I’ve been trying to talk to her all year, and now she’s gonna think I’m an idiot.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “You’re not an idiot, Pope. It’s one class. Besides, this gives you the perfect opportunity to talk to her, alone.”

“Exactly,” JJ said. “You’ll make the grade and maybe some action!”

John B. must’ve noticed the stress clearly painted on Pope’s face. He pushed himself up from the couch and said, “Let’s start with a phone number, okay?” Placing his hands on Pope’s shoulders, he shook him slightly. “You’re overthinking all of this. Just be cool.”

“Be cool,” Pope repeated, taking in a deep breath. “I can be cool.”

Cool had varying definitions, but Pope was sure that he missed the mark on every one. He had moved from being nervous about talking to you, to being nervous that his brain couldn’t pick up on simple themes in the novel he had read just the night. He hated being less than perfect in anything school-related because that was his strong suit.

“Are you okay?” you asked, setting down the novel on the tabletop of the quiet beachside picnic table. The sea breeze ruffled the pages of your notebook, prompting you to place a small rock from the parking lot on the corner to keep it down.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just…thinkin’ about the book,” he replied half-heartedly.

Your eyes narrowed for a moment before you reached across the table, gently took the book from his hands, and closed it. “I think you’re too much in your head.”

Pope laughed, void of amusement. “Isn’t that where I’m supposed to be for this stuff?”

You shook your head, fingernails tapping against the glossy book cover. “When you overthink it, you second guess your gut, which is usually right. You need to loosen up a little.”

Pope was wound tightly because, up until that point of his life, it had worked for him. He was the voice of reason, sometimes, for his friends' wack-ass ideas that more often led them into dangerous situations. If he acted too carefree, where would his friends be? They all were shoe-horned into a role and that was his, the tightly wound brainiac who was failing English.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Pope said. You smiled, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious.

“Come on,” you said, shoving your books into your bag before you slung it over your shoulder. Pope opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, you had agreed to tutor him for another hour. But you lightly pressed your hand over his mouth and said, “Don’t ask questions, just go with it.”

He followed you, not listening to the troublesome voice in the back of his head. You led him down the beach to the water, where waves lapped in the setting sun. The air was cool but comforting, paired with the sounds of the ocean For a long moment, the two of you just stared out at the water, the sun shimmering over top as the sky was painted an image of melting colors.

“JJ said you were embarrassed to have a tutor,” you said, breaking the silence like a wave crashing into him. Pope hung his head, his chest tight.

“A little, if I’m being honest.”

You nodded in understanding. “You shouldn’t be, you know? You can’t be good at everything.” Your tone caused him to turn his head, meeting your gaze.

Pope scoffed. “Right. School’s the one thing I’m good at. And clearly I’m not even that good at that.”

You looked at him bewildered. “You can’t be serious?” He said nothing, very serious. “Please, Pope. You are good in school. If you weren’t Mr. Clemmons wouldn’t brag about your science project every single week that he displays on his desk. Your picture’s still in the hallways because no one has one a national spelling bee since you had. And I’ve seen you surf. I see you helping out your dad, talking to customers like they’re your family members. I know you’re good at fishing and all of your friends seem to love you.”

Pope felt as hot as the red sun sinking in front of him. His lips parted, but nothing came out for a beat. He could only look at you with a funny feeling wrapping his heart in tangled strings.

“How do you know all of that?”

You’re gaze fell onto your feet buried in the sand, suddenly sheepish, but Pope wanted you to look at him again. There was something about your eyes on him that made him feel…nice. Just nice. “I notice you.” You paused, your face scrunching up slightly. “Not in a creepy way. Just in a…an observant way.”

“You notice me?” Pope repeated, chewing on the words slowly. It was hard for him to put the feeling into words, which may be linked to the fact that his English grade was suffering. He liked the feeling though. He wanted to sink into it a little more and ‘just go with it’ as you had said mere minutes ago.

You looked back at him, and he felt his lips curl upwards in a small smile. “Yeah. And I’ve always wanted to say something to you, other than asking to borrow a pen, but I always chickened out. Then JJ came up and asked me to tutor you, and I figured that was my shot.”

Pope didn’t know how to react. The fact that you had wanted to talk to him, maybe not as much as he wanted to talk to you, made his head spin. He felt giddy and like he could throw up at the same time. He had to play it cool, though, as John B. had said.

“Cool, cool, cool,” he repeated himself, nodding and making himself look very uncool. He then took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill up his lungs. “I noticed you too.”

Somehow, you smiled even brighter, it shined even in your eyes. He tensed up as you took a step closer, making the distance between the two of you mere inches. Pope could see the finer details of your face he hadn’t noticed before. He realized you could see him up close too. His forehead was sweaty and the way he had sat made his shirt wrinkle. His lack of sleep from worrying about school probably showed in his eyes and he feared the scar across his nose from when Rafe and Topper jumped him was off-putting.

You tilted your head just slightly and said, “You’re still overthinking things.” Your voice was just above a whisper, carrying across the empty beach by the wind.

Pope swallowed thickly and shrugged his shoulders. “Habit.”

Reaching up, your hands smoothed the collar of your shirt, raising goosebumps along his skin. You leaned in and Pope felt like he was going to pass out. But he quickly tried to steel himself and not screw up the position he, by some miracle, found himself in. Despite his racing brain and racing heart, he leaned forward and met your lips in a quick but nice kiss. Your lip gloss tasted like strawberries, and you smelled like sunscreen.

After you pulled back, resting your arms around his shoulders. All he could mutter was, “Wow.”

You wiped some of your lip gloss off of the corner of his lip with your thumb. “And that, Pope, is what happens when you follow your gut.”

He choked out a laugh. “Are you still tutoring me right now?”

“No,” you replied. “But just really good at my job.”

As the sun sunk fully into the ocean, Pope felt himself shine in tune with the twinkling stars. He followed his gut again, kissing you for a second time without his own pestering voice in the back of his head. He just heard you and the ocean ringing in his ears.

#pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x you #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank #sarah cameron #john b routledge #kiara carrera

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jolalibrary · 10 months ago

Text

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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