#hes gotten little enough affection in his long life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2cupids · 2 months ago

Text

toji x f!reader. mdni (17+)

you were never able to understand how people could cheat on their spouses or significant others. the pathetic excuses people made up to justify their cheating? you called it bullshit and found the act of infidelity to be absolutely despicable.

well, at least that’s how you used to feel about the act. until you met him.

being a housewife, you usually spent your days lounging around in the million dollar house your husband let you pick out a few years ago. anytime if you weren’t busy taking care of the house or sitting around looking pretty, you could be found at your bi-weekly hair or nail appointment and if not one of them, then you were out and about in your cute little convertible meeting your friends for brunch, attending your pilates class, shopping, or doing whatever your heart desired.

there’s not a better life you could ask for, you get to live the life that so many women can only dream of. yet, as thankful as you were for the lifestyle your husband was able to provide you with, the long hours he spent at the office meant that his work-life balance was greatly affected and sadly, your sex life wasn’t spared.

the countless evenings that were spent sitting at the large, glossy wood-finished dining room table eating alone and laying in bed using one of your silicone dildos to masturbate with because you were getting the real thing were beginning to grow tiresome and the need for physical intimate was getting harder and harder to ignore.

despite that, you still loved your husband and never blamed him for any of it. you were still wholeheartedly loyal and devoted to him. he’s only doing what he has to do to provide for his family, right? and it’s not like he ever mistreated you. there was no other man for you, at least that’s what you assumed. but that assumption went out the window the day that handyman!toji showed up at your front door in a tight, short sleeve compression top and some worn jeans to fix some leaky pipes.

truthfully, it was simply the case of one thing that led to another. for some reason, you felt comfortable enough to open up to a complete stranger about your frustrations and instead of turning down toji’s advances when he came onto you, you welcomed them. the first time was a complete mistake, that’s what you told yourself.

you and toji having a quickie on top of the kitchen table, was just because you needed to release the pent up sexual energy that had built up over time. right? because no matter how good toji’s bulging muscles looked as he subtly flexed them as he kept your legs spread for him while his eyes stayed glued to how well your pussy took his girthy dick, you could not let it happen again.

was it possible that you jinxed yourself by saying you would never sleep with him again? ..possibly. because a week later you’re bouncing up and down in toji’s lap as you two fucked on the couch, with his head stuffed between your pretty titties as he called you every type of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ for riding another man’s dick while your husband was hard at work to keep up that lifestyle you adored so much. the taunting tone of his voice replayed more times in your head that you would’ve liked as guilt ate at you from the aftermath of your actions, especially at night as you laid in bed next to your loving husband.

did that stop you though? no.

this affair with the handyman has been going on for months now and you don’t see any sign of it slowing down or coming to an end anytime soon. it’s gotten to the point where toji parks his car a few blocks away and meets you around the back entrance of your house, void of the nosey eyes of neighbors. and although you would never admit it out loud, toji fucks you so better than your husband ever could. not to mention, it’s like the man has a gold medal winning mouth when it comes to eating pussy. you never even knew you were capable of squirting until you started seeing toji.

tonight was supposed to be the same as usual, it’s a friday night and one of the days toji now routinely comes over to give you some good loving. except today your husband is uncharacteristically home early from work which makes you both worried and excited. though your worries are put aside as you converse with your husband while cooking, sharing laughs and smiles with each other as if you’re not having an extramarital affair. sitting across from him as you clink your wine glasses together, a little before the clock strikes nine o’clock on a weekday feels foreign to you, it’s been literal months since you can remember having anything close to this.

that warm, fuzzy feeling that fills your body as you and your husband sit and chat over dinner feels so nice that you almost tell toji not to come over tonight— almost.

it’s close to midnight, and your spouse is upstairs passed out on the bed from an alcohol-induced sleep while you’re unlocking the back patio door for toji to come in. he’s a man that doesn’t waste time, he gets down to business and within a couple minutes, he’s got you stripped down and naked, driving that fat dick into your pussy that’s seemingly become accustomed to his dick.

the sound of skin on skin echo through the expanse of the large kitchen as toji fucks you from behind, his broad-shouldered frame and big, bulky arms completely covering you and caging you between him and the quartzite countertop.

one of his large, calloused hands goes to your thigh and props it on top of the counter to fuck you deeper. your hands grip the cool stone harder as a strained moan rips from your throat at the new position and angle, feeling toji hit different spots makes your pussy react accordingly, clamping ever so tightly around his length that it makes him hiss.

toji’s not a particularly noisy man during sex, usually just a few groans and grunts here and there, but he’s changed it up tonight. you’ve never heard him make so much noise before and if you didn’t know any better, you might just assume that he’s getting off to the possibility of your husband waking up and finding you.

“oh baby,” he whispers in your ear, his voice holding a hint of mockery as he smirks. “what would you do if your husband woke up? what would he think if he saw his perfect wife getting her pussy pounded like a slut by another man?” he runs a hand through the silky strands of your colored wig, tugging your head back slightly.

your face scrunches up distastefully at the image and you frown, making a small noise to show you don’t take too kindly to his words, to which toji just chuckles a little louder than necessary. “aw, you don’t like what i said? feeling a little guilty all of a sudden?” he coos, a sadistic expression crossing his face.

his hips start to make contact with yours at an increased speed, balls smacking your sensitive clit each time so hard that it makes you yelp. the pants leaving toji’s mouth turn into full on grunts as his balls empty into your greedy pussy. slowly, toji pulls out and watches as your pussy pulsates and you push out his cum, the liquid leaking onto the stone floor beneath.

toji drops to his knees and starts stroking his dick back to life, letting his tongue dart out and lick at your swollen clit. some of his milky cum drips onto his face and he moves to suck his cum out of your hole, moaning against your sweet cunt. “how many times you think i gotta make you cum before you’re screaming so loud that it wakes up your hubby, pretty?”

3K notes · View notes

differenteagletragedy · 1 month ago

Text

Part Five of Simon Riley x Single Mother <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

It doesn't take long for a routine to be established. Simon stops by, at least for a little bit, most days. He brings something from the neighborhood bakery by for breakfast, or helps you fix dinner, and naturally there is still the occasional park playdate.

"We need to take it slow," you'd told him that night in the kitchen, when the two of you had kissed until your lips were pink and swollen from his attention. "I don't want Charlie to get confused."

And that was fine by him -- still is. The beauty of it all is that he doesn't just care for you, but for your children, too, and if you think moving slow is best, then that's just what you'll do. He's got all the time in the world.

Except, of course, until he doesn't.

It's been a few weeks of this, and just when he's starting to feel like he could actually be lucky enough for this to be the rest of this life, he gets the call. Another mission, a longer one this time from the outset.

He's got to tell you, and he's got to leave you. The thought tears him up inside. He pictures this beautiful little life he's just started carving out for himself passing by without him, and the darker parts of his mind picture you realizing that maybe you're better off without a man who can only take care of you parttime.

You try your best to ease those notions. You've gotten pretty good at reading him, and you can see the self doubt etched in his face soon after he gives you the news of his impending departure. You give him sweet kisses and hold him, whispering to him about how you'll miss him, and he wants so badly to believe it.

It's Charlie, the night before he's off, that really calms his nerves.

After dinner, Simon sits beside you on the couch while you hold Emma, and he tries to convince himself that when he comes back, things will be just like this. Charlie had run off to his room, and when he comes back, he climbs onto the couch, kneeling beside him with his little hand on his shoulder.

"All right, Charlie?" he asks.

Without a word, the boy reaches out his other hand, and in it he holds a beaded bracelet. Obviously homemade, it's mostly made of black beads, with some yellow and pink ones scattered in with no real pattern.

He glances at you, and you smile at him, so he takes the bracelet, and looks at it closer, not quite understanding the presentation.

"It's nice," he tells Charlie. "You make it?"

Charlie nods. "It's for you."'

Simon is not a crier in the least -- he's experienced all sorts of pain, physical and emotional, spiritual even, without shedding a tear. But this ... he clears his throat, focusing again on the bracelet and not the darling little boy who gave it to him or his beautiful mother who, every day, he grows more and more certain is the love of his life.

"For me?" he finally says, fighting to keep his voice even. "For what?"

"For when you go," Charlie answers. "So you don't forget about us."

There are no words to describe how outrageous he thinks the idea is, so instead he presses on.

"You pick the colors?"

"Yeah," Charlie answers, leaning over to poke at the bracelet. "Black because that's your favorite color, yellow because it's my favorite color and pink because Mum and Emma are girls."

Simon nods, and slips the bracelet on. He thanks the child, who wraps his arms tightly around his neck before climbing off the couch and heading back to his room.

"He loves you," you tell him with a smile, and he knows you can see how affected his is by the gift.

"Yeah?" Simon asks. "And what about his mum?"

You lean in, carefully as to not disturb the baby, and he meets you the rest of the way. You haven't slept together yet, figuratively or literally, and you've been insistent on taking things slow, but he can't help it. He wants to know where he stands, if you're feeling the same way he is.

Your kiss is soft, and you linger, long enough for him to bring his hand to your cheek to hold you in place just a little longer. When you pull back, you give him another small smile.

"His mother happens to be extremely fond of you."

Simon ends up being gone just shy of two months, and it's miserable, being away from you for so long. He keeps the bracelet safe in a pocket on his vest, toying with it in his downtime. It feels like a tether, something that keeps him focused. Something that will pull him home.

When he does get back to town, he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks out of the train station. He plans to drop his things off at his apartment before giving you a call, seeing if you're free, but when he gets to the juncture where he can either continue on towards his building or turn and trek the few extra blocks to your house, it's barely a decision he registers.

He's heading towards you.

There's a brief moment of hesitation after he unlatches the gate and climbs up the steps of your porch. Doubts creep in -- thoughts that tell him that he's been gone for longer than you were together, that you're not expecting him ... maybe that you don't want him anymore.

But Charlie's bracelet, on his wrist now, makes him remember just how good it felt, being a part of your life, and the memory is enough for him to knock.

All the doubts leave him, a rush of wonderful certainty hitting as soon as you open the door, because in your eyes, he sees it -- you missed him too. You take him into your arms, pulling him down to kiss his face, the sound of your happy, surprised laughter like music to his ears, and he's home now. He knows it more than he's ever known anything.

Simon holds you tightly in his arms, kissing you too, his lips landing on your head and your temple, anywhere he can reach, and then there's another, much smaller set of arms around him, and he looks down to see Charlie hugging his legs.

"You came back," he says, his voice muffled.

"Always will."

PART SIX - PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT

#call of duty #call of duty ghost #call of duty simon riley #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #daddy simon #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader

1K notes · View notes

mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 4 months ago

Text

"Older"

ok yall! i couldn't stop thinking of neglected Reader falling for Clark Kent, so instead of writing a new chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" I wrote an AU!!! Batfam's neglect stays till reader is 18, Tiffany isn't exposed till later. I got kinda carried away tbh! Remember, THIS IS AN AU!!!! Ya'll aren't ready for this plot actually. Or who really steals readers heart. Thank you to the wonderful anon who sent me down the rabit hole of this man. Reader is 18 when the romance actually starts.

Part 1:

Part 2: Here

Part 3:

When you were younger, you had always idolized Superman. Clark Kent, the unassuming, nerdy reporter with glasses, was a far cry from the intimidating presence he became when he donned the cape. You first saw him when you were 9, during a charity event your father had taken you to. At first, you thought he was just another well-dressed man who smiled too much. But then, when he lifted a car to save someone from an accident, you felt something shift in your chest.

That’s it, you thought. That’s what I want. I want him.

From that day on, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he saved people with a smile, how gentle his voice was. You’d daydream about being near him, holding his hand, his deep blue eyes looking down at you with affection. But Clark never saw you that way. To him, you were always just Bruce Wayne’s little girl—the kid he barely knew.

Maybe it was a result of being neglected by every man in your life that made you so feral for Clark Kent. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only person you knew who didn't prefer Tiffany to you. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, he'd never feel the same.

So, you pushed your feelings aside.

Or at least you tried to.

You’d flirted with boys before. You’d flirted with grown men. With your powers, you needed an outlet, a way to let go of your frustrations, to feel good. You lost your virginity only days after gaining your powers. It felt amazing, during those moments you were in control of your body, the pain went away, the neglect went away and you were loved.

But nothing had ever been like the times you found yourself in Clark’s presence. At 16, you’d started testing the waters, teasing him with subtle remarks. You’d gotten a little bolder in your attempts over the years, but he always brushed them off as playful jokes.

"Don’t you think you’re a little young for me, kiddo?" he’d chuckle every time you got close.

You hated that. He saw you as a kid. That was it.

But you didn’t stop. Because you were determined.

And by the time you turned 18, the world around you had shifted. You had grown into someone new, more mature, more confident. Your body had changed. Your personality had changed. But Clark... he still looked at you like you were that little girl from all those years ago.

It hurt. But you told yourself, Just be patient. It’ll come around. I just need more time.

You soon realized time was too long. Clark would never see you as anything more than a kid, he literally had children your age. He was old enough to be your father. His youngest son had a crush on you and Clark is a good man. He would never consider you romantically.

You couldn't keep chasing after another unrequited love. Not after years of chasing your family's. Not after years of being pushed aside for an imposter who always outsmarted your attempts to expose her.

You wanted to move on. To leave everyone behind.

And that's what you did. There was no dramatic breaking point, no emotional stand-off. You were looking out your window one day and you realized you've done nothing. You've never been happy, never once truly happy, you lived for everyone but yourself. Not anymore. One random sunny Tuesday, the summer after you graduated highschool, you packed up and left everything behind, no goodbyes. Not even a note for Alfred. None of them deserved it.

You were tired, tired of chasing people.

You wanted to be chased and that's what you got. Every week it was someone new, your professor, your friends, your boss, anyone who was attracted to you, you slept with. It was so freeing. It was euphoric, making them fall in love, leading them into your bed, then kicking them out as soon as the next one came along.

The only thing that you truly loved now was music, it was all that got you through years and years of mistreatment. No matter what happened in the manor, you could turn your headphones on and forget. You could grab your guitar and strum your worries away.

College sucked. Long ago, you would've pushed yourself to go, even though you hated it, just to make your family proud. To chase approval you would never get. Not anymore, you knew you needed a degree to make a living, but a gap year never hurt anyone.

You began working as a singer in different bars. It let you write songs and make money. There was nothing more addicting than feeling eyes on you, enchanted by you. Your voice was magnetic, drawing people in, and like any good predator, you feasted on their hearts and left as soon as they stopped inspiring you. Yet, no matter how good-looking or good in bed they were, they would never be Clark.

One night, after a few months of your reckless, self-destructive pattern, you found yourself in a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of Gotham, a place where nobody would recognize you. You weren't gonna sing, not tonight.

You weren’t here to find love, you weren’t here to talk or connect. You were here to forget.

The clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation surrounded you, but it was the figure in the corner that caught your attention.

A man with a commanding presence sat alone at the bar, his back straight, eyes locked on the dim-lit television above the counter. His hair was peppered with gray, but there was something ageless about the way he carried himself; tough, confident, dangerous. The eyepatch over his right eye only enhanced the mystery, adding a cruel allure to his already intimidating presence.

You couldn’t quite place why you were drawn to him, but the moment you saw him, a spark ignited. Slade Wilson. He worked with Bruce somehow one time, everyone hated him, even Clark. You remembered him because he was the only man, other than Clark, not to fall for Tiffany's charm and that was a win in your book.

You’d heard of him in passing, mostly in rumors—whispers of a deadly mercenary, a ghost in the shadows of Gotham, a man you wouldn’t want to cross. But here he was, sitting like a predator in a place filled with prey.

You weren’t afraid. You never were. You’d been raised in the shadows of Gotham, after all, with men who didn’t even know how to love you. You’d seen dangerous men before. You knew how to handle yourself.

You sauntered over, taking a seat next to him, your movements casual but purposeful. He glanced at you briefly, his lips twitching into the slightest of smirks before his eyes returned to the screen.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, leaning into the counter, placing your drink beside his.

His gaze flicked toward you again, this time a little longer. There was something predatory in the way he sized you up, assessing your every move. "Not at all."

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "I’ve been told I’m a good time."

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, but it was cold, calculated. "That so?"

You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped briefly to your lips, but he didn’t let his attention linger for long. He took a long sip of his drink and leaned back, unbothered, as though you were nothing more than another fleeting distraction.

You were used to this, the indifferent types. But you weren’t going to let him slip away that easily.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who spends his nights in places like this,” you said, turning towards him with a sly grin. “I imagine you’ve got better places to be.”

Slade didn’t look at you when he responded, his voice low and smooth, like gravel being ground underfoot. “I’m where I want to be.”

You laughed, the sound rich and teasing. "So, what does someone like you do for fun, then?"

For a moment, the silence stretched between you, and then he finally turned to meet your eyes, the weight of his gaze making your stomach flutter for reasons you couldn’t explain. "Fun... isn’t what I’m here for."

You let out a slow breath, leaning in a little closer, just enough for the scent of his cologne to hit you, something spicy, with a touch of danger.

"Then what are you here for?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met your gaze head-on, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the corners.

"Business."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Business, huh? I love business."

“I'm sure you do” he said cryptically, but his voice was thick with unspoken meaning.

The tension between you was palpable, electric. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. It wasn’t just his looks, though they were undeniably attractive in their own gritty, dangerous way. No, it was the way he carried himself, like he was someone who could destroy everything in his path if he wanted.

You weren’t intimidated, though. If anything, it intrigued you more.

You leaned closer, the warmth of your body pressing against his, your breath hot against his ear. “So, what do you do when business is done?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his eyes hard and calculating. And then, before you could react, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t want to know."

You shivered at his words, at the heat of his breath, but you were beyond caring. You were tired of being the one who was always desired but never loved, the one who always chased but was never caught. Tonight, you wanted to be wanted, and you wanted him to want you more than anything.

"Maybe I wanna find out" you breathed, your hand sliding down his arm.

His hand shot out like lightning, grabbing your wrist before you could make contact. His grip was firm, but not painful—just a reminder of his control, of how easily he could break you if he wanted.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, voice rough. "Not the way you think."

You stared at him, uncertainty flickering in your gaze for the briefest of moments. You had gotten used to men not wanting you the way you wanted them, it was all you knew growing up. But now things were different with your abilities. This wasn’t the first time someone had pulled away, but with him, it felt different, like he was holding back, just as much as you were.

You smirked. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

His lips curled again, this time with something darker in his eyes. "Because I’m the one who calls the shots."

A challenge. A warning. And for some reason, that only made you want him more.

Before you could react, he stood up, his hand lingering on your wrist for just a beat longer. "If you’re serious about this, I’ll be at the back exit in thirty minutes."

Then, without waiting for a response, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the bar.

You sat there for a moment, staring after him, the heat of the moment hanging in the air between you.

You weren’t sure whether to follow or not, but you knew one thing for certain: tonight was going to be a night you wouldn’t forget.

And so, you found yourself standing outside in the cool night air, your heart racing. You hadn't planned for this, but somehow it felt inevitable.

When you saw him again, waiting by the dark alley, it was clear this was a man who didn’t let anything slip through his fingers. And tonight, you weren’t going to let him slip away either. You approached him, your steps measured and confident.

He didn't speak immediately, just gave you a slow, knowing smile as you came closer.

This wasn’t the start of a love story. This wasn’t about feelings or connections. This was something darker, something more primal.

This was a game. And you weren’t sure if you were the predator... or the prey.

But you were ready to find out.

The cool Gotham air settled in your lungs as you closed the distance between yourself and Slade, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

He stood by the alley entrance, leaning casually against the brick wall, his figure lit only by the faint streetlight behind him. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, making his presence feel like an almost dangerous secret—something you weren’t sure you were ready to unravel, but damn, you were more than willing to try.

Slade didn’t say a word as you approached, his one visible eye catching yours with that piercing, unreadable stare of his. You knew that look. It was the same kind of look your father gave you when he had to make tough decisions, when he saw things for what they truly were. Cold, calculating. But this? This felt different. This felt like a challenge. And you were more than ready for it.

“Still think you can handle me?” His voice was low, but it had that same teasing bite, as if he were daring you to prove him wrong.

You were close now—too close for comfort, but you didn’t care. You stepped into his space, the heat of his body now radiating against yours, his scent filling your senses. “I don’t need to handle you,” you murmured, your lips barely brushing his ear as you leaned in. “I think you need to handle me.”

There was a flicker in his gaze, something almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. He didn’t move away, didn’t flinch like others would have. If anything, the air around you both seemed to crackle with intensity.

“Is that what you think this is about?” Slade asked, his voice rougher now, as though the control he so carefully maintained was slipping just a little. “You’re not the first woman who’s come to me thinking they can make me want them.”

You were sure he was referring to Tiffany, there was no way a man like him ever forgot a name or face. Knowing he knew who you were and knowing he didn't care made you want him more.

You smiled, feeling that familiar rush of excitement surge through your veins. It wasn’t about making him want you. It was about making him need you.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning even closer, your lips almost touching his. “But I’m the first one who might actually make you lose control.”

For a heartbeat, you could have sworn the world around you stopped. Slade’s eye darkened, the intensity in his stare shifting from challenge to something sharper. More dangerous. But there was something else in his eyes now. Something that made your heart race faster than you cared to admit.

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that had your breath hitching in your throat. The familiar spark of danger lit up your skin, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your body melt into his, feeling the pulse of raw, untamed power that radiated off him.

“You think you can push me?” he growled, his voice like gravel, each word like a warning and a promise all at once.

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you let your fingers trail across his chest, feeling the ridged muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your touch was deliberate, slow, each movement a calculated game of power.

“Maybe I want to push you,” you said softly, your breath a whisper against his neck, “until I break you.”

The grip on your wrist tightened for a split second, his muscles flexing with controlled restraint. For a moment, you wondered if this was where it would end, that he’d push you away, tell you it was all just a game. But when he finally spoke again, his voice was thick with tension.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Slade murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your body pressing even closer to his as your lips hovered dangerously close to his own. “Maybe I don’t,” you whispered. “But I’m willing to find out.”

Slade didn’t move for a long moment, just holding you there in that thin space between danger and desire. And then, finally, he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with the force of someone who had been holding back far too long.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a brutal, desperate collision of mouths, a clash of power and need. You could feel the tension in every muscle of his body as he claimed your mouth, his hands gripping your arms, his touch insistent and almost hungry. But you didn’t break, didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, hands roaming up his chest to grasp the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.

For a second, you wondered if this would be the point where you lost yourself to the heat of the moment, but the longer you kissed him, the clearer it became that this wasn’t just about passion. It was about control. About testing boundaries.

And you were willing to play that game, because you were ready to win.

As the kiss deepened, Slade pulled away suddenly, his breath ragged, eyes darker now with desire and frustration. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone who didn’t give in.

“Not so easy, is it?” you whispered, your voice rough from the kiss, your body still pressed against his.

He glared at you for a moment, lips curling into a knowing smirk, the kind of smirk that made you feel like you were dancing on the edge of a knife.

“You’re not the first one to test me, Slade said, voice low and dangerous, his hands sliding down your arms with intent. “But you might be the first one who wants to."

Slade didn’t pull back, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm, but his gaze never left yours. His hand, still gripping your wrist, was no longer a force of restraint; it was an anchor, a silent promise of just how far this could go.

The weight of his stare sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was from anticipation or something deeper, something darker that he carried with him, but you felt it in every inch of your body. You weren’t here for games anymore, you were here because you wanted this. You wanted him.

But there was more to it. Something about the way he held you in his gaze told you that, for once, you weren’t in control. Slade Wilson was a man who played by his own rules. And now, you were learning the cost of trying to break them.

He released your wrist with slow precision, letting his fingers linger over your skin for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the heat of his touch as he took a step back, eyes darkening with a new kind of challenge.

“You really think you’re the one calling the shots here?” His voice was low, rough, as though it had been soaked in whiskey and smoke.

You weren’t about to back down now. You smirked, leaning into him again, almost too close for comfort. “I think I’m just... along for the ride.”

Slade’s lips twisted into something dangerous, a mix of amusement and something else, something far more raw. He took a step toward you, crowding your space, his presence suffocating in the most exhilarating way.

“Not sure you know what that ride entails,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, sending another shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to,” you replied, reaching for him, but this time, you didn’t touch him the way you had before. You trailed your fingers slowly, almost teasingly, down his chest, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath the fabric.

Slade didn’t stop you. His body stiffened, though. Just enough for you to feel that tight pull of control he was holding onto. It only made you want him more. You pressed a little closer, your body brushing against his in a subtle reminder that you were still in the game, too.

“I like doing things i'm not supposed to” you said, your lips grazing his ear as you spoke. “And I think you do, too.”

He stiffened at your words, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, you thought you saw something flash behind his gaze—something far more primal than the cold, calculating predator you’d come to know.

Slade’s hand shot out, gripping your chin with surprising gentleness, forcing you to look up at him. The control was unmistakable in his hold, yet his eyes… his eyes were like a storm just about to break. “Don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I never said I did.” Your voice was steady, confident, even though the truth was you didn’t fully know what this was. But you knew what you wanted, and right now, it was him.

He searched your face, his gaze intense, like he was deciding something. just as you thought he might break, he leaned in, closing the gap between you both.

His lips brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. For a moment, it was almost like a game of cat and mouse. He was holding back, just enough to make you ache for more.

His lips moved to your ear, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “You should walk away now. Because once this starts, there’s no going back.”

You leaned into him, your breath shaky, but your resolve unwavering. “I never look back. Not anymore.”

Slade didn’t hesitate. His lips crushed against yours with an urgency that felt like a storm breaking free. There was no softness. It was rough, driven by something savage, and it made you lose your breath as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You felt his hands on you, strong and sure, pulling you into him, his grip possessive in a way that made your pulse race even faster. You let him guide you, let him take the lead—because, for the first time in so long, you didn’t need to be the one in control. You didn’t want to be.

That night, Slade Wilson made you forget about every other man in your life, even Clark Kent.

For the next three weeks, you and Slade continued game of cat and mouse. Every other day, you would go to a bar to play and he would somehow appear in the crowd, like a sailor lured by a siren.

Yet everytime, in the morning when you woke, still hot after the previous nights activities, Slade Wilson was nowhere to be found.

You knew he was too old for you, too rough and unstable, but he could be kind at times, when he wanted.

And he was fun.

And you're sure your family would have a joint aneurysum if they found out.

It was fun until one night, he didn't find you.

Two months later, nothing changed. No word from your 'family' asking where you were, only Alfred's weekly check up, and Damian's insufferable posting of him, Tiffany, and the rest the family having fun without you on Instagram. He didn't even bother to block you.

No word from Slade either, yet you still hoped he would show one night. Seems like you had a thing for men ignoring you.

But tonight, something felt electric in the air.

Slade’s shadow stretched across the dimly lit bar, his presence pulling every ounce of warmth from the room. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since he’d walked away without a word, leaving you to pick up the pieces of everything. You’d told yourself you didn’t care, that his absence meant nothing. But seeing him again, standing there with that predatory stare of his, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest.

You were busy, sure, singing and flirting, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted. But you couldn’t ignore the sudden heaviness in the air. The way the music seemed to fade as his eyes locked onto yours from across the room. The same gaze that had always made you feel like you were his—like he could take whatever he wanted and leave you with nothing.

You kept the smile on your face, tossing your hair over your shoulder, a flirtatious laugh escaping your lips as you tossed a wink at one of the men leaning against the bar. You could feel Slade watching you, not just with his eyes but with every inch of his body. He hadn’t come to listen to the music. He didn’t give a damn about the crowd or the drinks. He was here for you.

And he was pissed.

He approached you with slow, deliberate steps, his frame imposing, his eyes cold with that familiar edge. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, almost drowned out by the noise of the bar, but it cut through everything like a blade.

“Well, well, well… look at you, darlin’. Didn’t take you long to move on, huh?”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your head high. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission, babe.”

He ignored the jab, his lips twitching in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in two months, and this is what I come back to? You’re out here playing with the other boys now?”

You didn’t flinch. “You didn’t exactly leave me with much of a choice. You were the one who disappeared, remember?”

Slade's gaze hardened, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you, close enough that his breath stirred the strands of your hair. He leaned down, his voice dropping low, rough. “You really think you can just forget about me? Move on with them? Cute little act you've got going, sweetheart, but I can see right through it.”

You pushed back, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just having fun. I’m living my life, Slade. You should try it sometime.”

His smirk curled, but there was no warmth in it. “I don’t need advice from you. And I don’t give a damn about your ‘fun.’” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a brutal grip, pulling you closer. “Where’s your old man? Where’s your daddy been? What about your brothers? Do they even know what the hell you’ve been up to?”

The sharpness of his words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Slade always knew how to hit you where it hurt, and he wasn’t giving you any room to breathe. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, but the defiance didn’t reach your voice the way you wanted it to.

“Funny, that’s what I thought you’d say.” He released your wrist, but not before giving it a firm squeeze. “I already know what’s been going on with your family. They’ve been too busy holding onto their precious Tiffany, haven’t they?”

You flinched at the mention of her name. Everyone knew Tiffany was the golden child, the one your family had actually cared about. The one they’d all protected, even when she turned out to be the one using them. You’d known for a while that she was a spy, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Slade’s eyes glinted with that sharp, calculating look. “You knew what she was doing, didn’t you? All this time, she was playing them like puppets, and now they’re gonna come crawling back, pretending they care. They’ll be looking for you soon enough, you know. Guilt’s a hell of a thing.”

The words sank into you, twisting painfully. You hated how right he was. Your family had always been so focused on Tiffany that they hadn’t noticed how you were slipping through the cracks. And now, with her gone, they were going to realize their mistake. They were going to come for you, but it wouldn’t be because they cared. It would be because they felt guilty.

Slade took a step closer, his hand lightly grazing your cheek, the touch cold and commanding. “They’ll come running for you when they realize what they’ve lost, sweetheart. But don’t fool yourself. It won’t be about you. It’ll be about guilt. About making things right because they fucked up. But you know better than anyone, those kinds of people always forget when the next shiny thing comes along.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “What do you want from me?”

His smirk widened, his fingers trailing down your jaw with a casualness that made your skin crawl in a way you couldn’t quite explain. “What do I want from you, sweetheart? Maybe just the same thing I’ve always wanted. But let’s be clear: I’m not here to save you from them. Hell, I don’t even know if you want saving.”

You glared at him, feeling the bitter edge of your own anger. “Then why the hell are you here?”

Slade's eyes softened for a brief second—just long enough to make you wonder if this was something more than just a game to him. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone, replaced by that familiar coldness. “I’m here because you’re a hell of a lot smarter than they’ll ever give you credit for. And you’re not stupid enough to think you need them. You know they never cared, not really.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He was right. You did know it, deep down. You’d always known. It stung, more than you cared to admit, but you were done being angry about it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. “When they come, and they will come, you can show them what it feels like to be abandoned. You can make them feel just how you felt. But don’t think for a second you can do it without me.”

You didn’t respond right away, your heart pounding in your chest. He wasn’t offering you a way out, he was offering you a choice. A choice between playing the victim to your family’s guilt, or standing beside him as he carved his own path. Neither option was a clean one, but something about him made it feel like the one you’d always been meant to choose.

Slade stepped back, his eyes scanning you as if he was trying to figure you out. “You’re not like them, sweetheart. And you’re not gonna let them walk all over you. Not this time.”

You finally met his gaze, the anger and frustration swirling in your chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Slade grinned, that predatory, dangerous grin that made you feel like you were in over your head. “Oh, I know more than you think.”

Slade’s presence was suffocating, his shadow looming over you like something darker than the night itself. He’d always had that effect on you, but tonight, with the way he leaned in so close, his words cutting through the air like daggers, you couldn't help but feel a chill creep down your spine.

His eyes never left yours, not for a second, his smirk tightening as if he knew exactly how to push every button. "You know, sweetheart, you always think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” His voice was soft, dangerous, like a whisper in a dark alley. “But you’ve been running from something for a long time. Something you can’t hide from anymore."

You felt your heart beat a little faster, but you refused to show it. You’d dealt with him long enough to know that showing weakness only made him more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Slade’s gaze slid over you, dismissive yet calculating. “I think you know exactly what I mean. But let’s not play coy here. You used to be close with Jason. Back when he was alive, at least. You were a team, weren’t you?”

The mention of Jason made your stomach twist, but you clenched your jaw and forced your face into something resembling indifference. You refused to let Slade see you hurt. “What about it?”

“Nothing, just... funny, isn’t it?” Slade’s lips curved into a grin that made your skin crawl. “You two were close. But then, Jason died, and who was left? The family? They couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to you. They didn’t notice when Tiffany came around, and they sure as hell haven’t noticed since.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the truth hitting a little too hard. But you kept your composure, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung. “What do you want, Slade?”

His eyes softened just enough to make you think for a second that he might’ve been telling the truth—only for that same grin to return, sharper than before. “What I want? You're not getting it, sweetheart. It’s not about me. It’s about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out just how much of this conversation was manipulation. And how much was something more... personal? The tension between you two was so thick, it felt like it might snap at any moment.

Slade took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve been wasting your time, haven’t you? Hiding behind that bar, singing, flirting with men who’ll never understand you. You could do so much more than this, you know. You’ve got potential.”

He said the word like it was something sacred. A promise or a curse, you couldn’t quite decide.

You shook your head, taking a small step back. "I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me what I can and can’t do."

Slade’s eyes darkened, his smirk turning predatory. “Oh, I think you do. I think you want to know. Deep down, you’re craving someone to show you how to unlock it. Your powers. Your real potential. You want something bigger, something more than this.”

Your pulse quickened, and a sickening unease washed over you. How the hell did he know about your powers? How much did he really know? The idea that he’d been watching you from afar, or worse, had been tracking your every move, made your skin crawl.

You tried to push that thought away. “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re wrong. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Slade studied you for a long moment, his gaze never faltering. He was evaluating you, and you could feel the weight of it pressing on your chest. When he spoke again, his tone was almost... too calm, too casual.

“Let’s be real here, darlin'. You do need help. You’ve got power, and I’m not talking about the small-time tricks you’ve been playing with. You could be so much more. But you're stuck. Trapped in this little life you’ve built for yourself because you’re too afraid to face what's really inside you.”

“Why are you even here?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the edge was starting to creep in. You wanted answers, and you wanted them now. “You disappeared for two months, and now you’re showing up like you know everything about me. What’s your game?”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his figure blocking the dim light above you. “My game? I’m not here to play games. I’m here because I’m offering you an opportunity. An opportunity to stop hiding from yourself. To work with me. To really figure out what you’re capable of. I’ve seen the way you move. The way you think. And I know you’re capable of so much more than this little bar. But you’ll need training. You’ll need guidance. My guidance.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that ran through you. He was offering you something, something you didn’t quite understand, but the implication was clear: he wanted you to join him. To work together.

But there was something... off. The way he was talking. The way he seemed to know everything about you, the things you hadn’t told anyone, not even yourself.

“How do you know all this?” You demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound confident. “How do you know about Jason? About Tiffany? About whats happening to me?”

Slade’s grin widened, a strange glint in his eyes as he leaned in, almost as if savoring the tension. “There's nothing I don't know. I know more than you think. But here’s the thing: you don’t need to understand everything right away. You just need to trust me. Trust that I know what you need. And trust that I can give you what you’ve been searching for. What they could never give you.”

His words were like a knife, each one digging deeper. “I’m not asking for your loyalty. Not yet. But think about it, yeah? I’m offering you something bigger than this... this place, these people. I can offer you something real. Power. Freedom.”

Your eyes were still locked with his, but your mind was racing. You couldn't stop the unease creeping through you. There was a part of you that wanted to know what he meant. Wanted to know how far your powers could go. Wanted to trust him, even though everything in your gut told you not to.

“And what about Clark?” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’m supposed to just... forget about him too? You don’t think I notice? You think I’m some naive little girl who doesn’t know what’s going on? You think I can't see you using me? Trying to groom me?”

Slade’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, before his lips curled into a snide smile. “Clark.” He scoffed. “The big, shiny boy scout with all the answers. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. You and I both know how far that age gap really stretches. He’s too good for you, always will be.”

He took a step closer, his eyes glinting with something dark. “But me? I don’t need to pretend. I know exactly what you need. And I won’t keep running from it like your little superhero friend. I’m offering you something real, and you’re smart enough to see that.”

His words, sharp and possessive, lingered in the air. You swallowed, your throat dry.

“I’ll think about it.” The words came out more breathless than you intended, but Slade didn’t seem to mind.

“Good girl.” His tone was sharp, like an order, but there was something more in it, something possessive, like a claim. He reached out, his fingers brushing your arm as if he had every right to touch you. And the worst part was, you didn’t pull away.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “I’m not the patient type. And when I come back, you’ll have an answer. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart.”

You hated how that sent a chill down your spine.

OKKKKKK WHAT DO YALL THINK??? IS IT GOOD??? BE HONEST!! I BARELY KNEW WHO SLADE WAS BEFORE THIS SO IT MIGHT BE OOC! REMEBER THIS IS AN AU! SORRY IF THERE'S TYPOS I WROTE THIS ON MY PHONE IN BED. I FEEL LIKE IT SUCKS SO I MIGHT TAKE IT DOWN AND NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!!!!

#yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere jason todd #yandere damian wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #yandere x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere clark kent #yandere slade wilson #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batman x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere

1K notes · View notes

bernardsbendystraws · 7 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐨 — 𝐌.𝐒.

Synopsis: Matt helps you with your trauma.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, soft dom Matt, SA mentions, crying, panic attacks

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He didn’t need much detail to know whatever happened affected you on a daily basis. Matt just knew. It happened more than a year before you two started dating. So much time had passed, yet it still made your life look so…different.

You didn’t sleep with a comforter. When you did, all you could hear was the ruffle of the sheets, an alert that made you think someone was about to violate you. Because that’s what your ex had done. You wished it was a stranger. You wished it wasn’t somebody that you would've sacrificed everything for. But it was him—a ghost from your past that lingered in every corner of your mind.

“Sweetheart, I…I know it’s not something you ever talk about. I never wanna make you feel like you have to, but…but can you let me know the things that trigger you, maybe? So I don’t…so I don’t accidentally hurt you—I…I really just wanna make you feel safe, baby. That’s all I want.”

Those affirming words led to a new confrontation of emotion. You talked. For the first time ever, you said your ‘ex’ instead of ‘him.’ The assailant's identity being confirmed into reality just made it so nauseating, yet relieving. You had finally said it—it was finally real.

“You—your ex?”

It broke Matt’s heart. He could tell by the glossy haze over your eyes that you trusted that poor excuse of a man with your heart fully. Someone broke you—someone broke you enough that you still couldn’t feel safe every night in your own bed.

Matt listened with full intent. He heard a vibration of rage in his ears, making sure to remain as calm as possible and holding your hand secure with a gentle grip.

Changes were made instantly. Matt was so genuine, so observant. He switched everything in his bed. Cotton sheets were exchanged for satin and silk. A small night light was purchased—one that looked like a silly penguin. He claimed it was just because he thought it was cute, but it didn’t take you long to realize it only got plugged into the wall when you spent the night.

It was all for you.

Even though he wanted to be as close to you as possible, he spent the first couple sleepovers on the opposite side of the bed. The first time, he felt a little sick. You were curled into a ball, nearly falling off from how far your body was on the mattress.

It took months, but eventually you started gradually shifting to Matt in your sleep. Your body cooperated before your mind did. The first time you woke up with your head resting on his chest and his arm looped around your shoulders…it was horrid. Matt felt awful. The panicked gasps of air still made his chest tighten with guilt, even though he didn’t even really do anything.

But, it was okay—it was okay because it was Matt, not him. Not the man who had ripped away a love language from you and turned it into a screaming siren of anxiety. It still hurt, but it hurt a little less. You didn’t feel deprived anymore, you just felt heavy.

A bit more time gave your mind enough reasons to start following your body’s reactions. Matt had learned to move slowly to detach himself from you. He didn’t want you to wake up with that scared look on your face—he couldn’t let that happen to you over and over again.

“No,” you mumble, pulling Matt closer. Your features are still softened with sleep, a slight furrow between your brows showing a subtle amount of distress.

Matt pets over your head, trying to soothe you awake gently. “Sweetheart, I…gotta move, I don’t want you to panic—”

“Please.”

Your gentle whisper is enough to make him relax again. He’s a bit confused, but it’s not enough to make him move. Instead, he lays there, staring at the ceiling and appreciating your warmth—your trust.

The trust only bloomed with time and patience. Eventually, kisses had gotten more passionate.

His hesitant hands suddenly got grasped by yours as you guided them to your hips. You were sitting on his lap. You had every chance to stand up and leave if you wanted to. But you didn’t want anything else but him.

“Touch me, Matt.”

Your directions make him swallow with a loud gulp. His eyes widen as he looks into yours with a search for confirmation. “Are you…are you sure, sweetheart. We don’t—”

“I trust you.”

Light touches got more affirmative as you started to roll your hips onto him.

It felt good…up until it didn’t.

“I–I don’t know what happened,” you ramble, curled in a ball as he rocks you like a baby from side to side. It’s humiliating, but you can’t find it in yourself to have any dignity in such a raw state.

You tried. You really fucking tried.

And you failed.

“I’m sorry for leading you on, I–”

“No. Don’t apologize. We’re gonna take it slow, okay? Don’t…don’t look at this as something to be ashamed about. You…you feel safe enough to try with me and that—that means everything to me, I…”

He pulls you upward into a tight hug as you cry. Part of him just wants to hold you closer, but another part of him just doesn’t want you to see him cry. He wants to focus on you—he wants you to focus on yourself too, not him. Slow, gentle rocks soothe you to doze off as he silently lets hot tears drift down his cheeks.

You don’t deserve this. Whatever happened to you—he doesn’t care how it affects him, he doesn’t care that his girlfriend of nearly five months hasn’t had sex with him. He cares how it affects you. Sleepless nights, avoiding the mirror, shying away from men—even his brothers. It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair.

Figuring it out was hard—harder than you would’ve imagined. Failed attempt after failed attempt that left you in tears or distress. It felt so pathetic. You felt weak. Matt was incessant on affirming the opposite.

Weak meant you wouldn’t try—weak meant giving up and the tears meant you were still fighting.

It wasn’t how you expected it to happen, but it happened. You felt so safe, so comfortable. You didn’t need control like you thought, you just needed to trust him and let him guide you. Being on top of him left more room for overthinking—more room for air to lather your skin with heavy reluctance.

You both had spent the day together. It wasn’t anything special, no fancy date or big present, but it was relaxing. Matt had gotten you matching pajama pants. He even begged you to wear his favorite shirt that he knew you loved. Blankets piled on top of your bodies as you cuddled together, movie after movie playing on the TV in his room as you sank further into the bed.

A soft, romantic kiss had led to this—Matt hovering over your naked body while grinding his hard length into your core with his briefs still covering him. The noises, the sensations…it was all so good, but Matt was analyzing every flutter of your eyes, every slight motion from your hands as you gripped onto the sheets.

“Matt, I—”

Wordlessly, you tug on the hem of his briefs. Matt freezes for a second. Looking into your eyes, he cups your cheek. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I…I’ll stop if you say the word—but are you sure? Fuck, I just—” Matt bites hard on his lower lip as he feels your hips chase upward and against him. “---just don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps.

“I want this, I…I want you, I trust you. I…I just…I—please,” you whimper, tugging a little harder on the fabric.

Peeling off the remaining barrier between your bodies, Matt glides his tip along your folds and fuck…it feels like heaven. Not just the sensation, but the emotion—the trust—-the bare vulnerability.

Circling your clit delicately, he lets himself kiss into your neck. “Do you want my fingers first, sweetheart? I—”

“No, please—” you grind into his touch. “--just want you—all of you.”

Even though he’s on top, he follows your directions. You’re in control. He’s doing whatever you want, doing what makes you feel good—pleasure and security.

The initial stretch of his tip is a lot. It feels a bit unfamiliar. You’ve never had sex like this—so raw and bare. It’s more than just skin and bodies, it’s your trust and your peace.

"Oh--Matt,” you whine. His thick cock is gliding into your walls viciously slow. You feel everything and it all feels like bliss. You’re safe. You can trust him. There’s nothing blocking you from devoting yourself to the present—letting you bathe in the intimacy of truly letting go.

“I…oh my—are—are you okay? Do you, um,” His mind isn’t connecting words as well. The feeling of your warm walls squeezing his dick is distracting, but he’s intent on taking care of you—making sure you know this is only about you. “--do you need me to stop?”

“No—keep going, please—” you both let out explicit, lewd moans as your legs swarm around his waist, nuzzling him deep inside of you.

And god…it’s so consuming. You can’t think of anything. Not when he slowly starts to grind his cock inside of you, a wet squelch making your walls clench around him.

“I…”

The wordless trail off of your words makes Matt hesitate again. But, he hisses as he feels you start to match his rhythm, your hips rutting upward to meet each motion of his pelvis.

“Is…is this—ah fuck, is this okay, sweetheart? Is it, is it s–still—”

“More than—-more than okay, I—more, Matt. Please.”

Your legs loosen as he starts to lazily drive his cock and and out of your slick entrance. He angles his hips upward, digging into you with passion as he sees your mouth fall into an ‘O.’ Your nails dig into his biceps. The pain is encouraging. He’s making you feel so good—so good that your body reacts involuntarily as he plunges himself against the same spot that makes your chest arch into him more and more.

“My girl, shiiiit,” he seethes. Erratic motions become urgent as he watches your eyes roll back. Your lips smack open to spare him a warning, but fail as he keeps sliding in and out of you with passion and intent. “---gonna cum?” You nod. “Yeah, that—-that’s okay, sweetheart. Just—let—go,” he soothes, trying desperately to hold back his own release as you start muttering his name as a mantra with your walls convulsing deliberately around him.

“I—Matt, I—”

“That’s it, c’mon. I…I—fuck, feels s’good, baby. Can’t—I can’t hold back much longer. I—”

The heels of your feet dig into his back, forcing him as deep as possible as you climb down from your high.

“Sweetheart, please, I need—-need to—-gonna cum, where—”

Tightening your lock around his hips even further, you massage your hands through his hair, pulling him into the side of your neck. Matt’s hips thrust forward with urgency and exhaustion. “Inside. Please, I—-”

“Are you—-are—-you s-sure? Can’t hold back…..can’t---baby,”

His mindless rambles are cut short as you whisper a soft plea into the air. The deep moan that falls from his lips is mesmerizing. A warm feeling of his cum spilling inside of you makes everything so much more real.

“Fuck….” Matt breathes heavily, his hot breath fanning onto your neck as he slowly hovers himself above you again. His eyes meet yours with a new found connection, a silence that speaks volumes as you both bathe in the after effects of the intimate acts. “You,”

You can’t help but swallow thickly as warmth clouds your face. His eyes water looking down at you, his hand cupping your cheek as a soft, sympathetic smile covers his face.

“I’m so proud of you, I….”

An overwhelming amount of peace consumes you. Your cheek falls further into his hand as his thumb swivels against your skin. The pale blue eyes gleam into you with so much emotion.

“I’m proud, sweetheart. I just—I hope you’re proud too,”

#matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo angst #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo headcannons #sturniolo headcanon #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo

1K notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 29 days ago

Text

Settle in with me

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

After the results of the programme in hopes of producing future hunters, Jinwoo takes the lead.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - mentions of breeding,Dirty thoughts,Jealousy,kissing,Jinwoo really wants to fuck you,Forced pairing for breeding,Kinda role playing,Little mentions of squirting and other sexual acts,Mentions of pregnancy and impregnation

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

The results of the pairings had been delayed due to a tragedy.

“We apologise for the delay, due to the loss of one of our association members, we had to wait until we could access the sensitive information. A formal enquiry is being made in the meantime and it’s being treated as suspicious.”

“To think we had such bad news right on our doorstep. At a time like this too.” Hunter Choi took off his glasses and cleaned them with dismay and pursed lips.

Jinwoo walked right through without issue for that information. Stealth made it way too easy. Still, he feigned surprise. “Why would someone do that? It doesn’t make sense.”

You remained silent, spacing out at the table, sitting next to Jinwoo this time. Baek slammed his fist on the table and it never even made you flinch. “Of course it makes no sense, it’s just information on who’s sleeping with who essentially-”

“Please, don’t be so crude.” Hunter Cha snapped, wiping away the invisible smell with her handkerchief. “We’re all affected by this, a man is dead. And… we’re all affected.” Her voice trailed off, she realised her outburst was seen by everyone, including the Chairman.

Jinwoo sat back and watched, awaiting the news with the excitement of carrying out his year-long quest. He’d have you soon enough, he only hoped you would do so willingly.

“Can we… Can we just get this over with now while the investigation is underway? I’d really like to go now.” You said, finally participating, fiddling with your fingers under the table because you just didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I think so too.” Jinwoo interjected the tension and flashed you a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing we can do right now and I think we’d all like to get on with things so we can settle in, right?”

“Exactly, Hunter Sung, while we can grieve those who make the Hunters association smooth like a machine, we must carry on.” Chairman Go pulled out a sheet of paper, a small one at that, practically insignificant. “I have here the latest results for the trial period of S-Ranked Hunters set to participate in the programme, I’ll read it out as follows.”

Jinwoo picked up on your heightened breathing immediately, trembling fingers knotted together and holding on for dear life. Anticipating the future of the Hunter’s association.

“Hunter Cha will be paired with Hunter Choi. Which leaves…” When your name graced the Chairman’s lips, you watched the man’s soft facade with anticipation. “You will be paired with Hunter Sung.”

There was nothing to be said about the elephant in the room, well, the entire room was the elephant. Jinwoo sat with a wash of relief though stifled it for now. A matter of hours and he’d potentially be balls deep inside you ready to blow his first load inside you… for the good of the association, the country, his fellow Hunters and guild members.

“This will be effective immediately, so you should gather your things and return to headquarters later tonight for your keys and accommodation. I am appreciative of all the hard work you do and what more you’ll be sacrificing for this country and the association.”

Jinwoo liked the ring to that, effective immediately.

After the Chairman left, Baek slouched back into his chair and whistled. “I wasn’t sure which one of us it was going to be, but I didn’t think it would be both of you. Ugh, things are going to get weird around here.”

Choi was naturally flustered, but his rivalry with Baek pushed past the initial shock. “I think it’s a valiant effort, maybe that’s why you weren’t asked to do it. Nevermind.”

Baek growled. “Watch it buddy-”

“Ugh, was there any point in us even being here? I came all this way for nothing.” Hunter Lim had not said one word the entire meeting, shrugging off whatever words and consternation entered the room. He and Hunter Ma were not present the last time the S-Rank hunters were together.

Hunter Ma sat watching the two boil over in their feud. “I guess we just gotta do it then, no point in fightin’ amongst ourselves.”

You and Cha were silent, unmoving and weighted down in the boardroom chairs, the gravity of it all getting more heavy with each ragged breath amongst the inhouse fighting.

Jinwoo never took your silence as an insult, in honesty, he never wanted it to be this way between you and him. He hoped with time you’d take to him as much as he understood Cha was with him. The bonus being that it would just accelerate things and give him a head start on his quest.

“You think you’re the shit now because you might have an S-Rank baby? Heh, we’ll see about that.”

“Guys, stop it!” Banging your fist on the table got Choi and Baek to stop their squabbling temporarily, everyone looked right at you in pin drop silence. “This is hard enough as it is without you two fighting. Things are going to change around here and we have to just… get used to it. Please don’t make this any more complicated than it has to be.”

Then, you walked out, taking Hunter Cha with you.

Now, the men pouted or sat around in the swivel chairs waiting for someone to speak and break the silence.

“I bet you’re happy, huh, Jinwoo?” Lim rested his chin on his balled fist over the table. “She’s pretty, but doesn’t Jong-In have a crush on her?”

“Uh… hold on a second.” Choi adjusted his glasses and cleared the truth from him throat awkwardly. “Firstly, a crush? We’re adults. Secondly, I admit to no such thing, we’re quite good friends, actually. It’s quite that simple and while I think I would have suited her well, the computer chose Hunter Sung, so I won’t protest. Thirdly, although not lastly, Hunter Cha is also a good candidate, gentlemen.”

Jinwoo noticed the mild resentment behind his mask, it slipped ever so slightly before regaining its control of his face again. Jong-In Choi was a kind man, everybody knew that, the goodness in his soul was something Jinwoo admired from time to time. A trait he wouldn’t ever fully grasp again after slipping between the line of right and wrong.

But man, was he easy to read.

The association member Jinwoo killed wasn’t the first man, he also wasn’t remorseful in the slightest at the sight of his dead body on the ground. Although he hoped it wasn’t necessary, it was to secure your name. So all in all, not a wasted journey.

Murder… A trait he gained in which he hoped to work on, but recently, Jinwoo found himself wanting to leave it fester. That’s where all of his sudden intrusive thoughts showed themselves. Although right now, seeing Choi so flustered over you should make him want to do something to the man, even if it was just harsh words for the time being, what saved him was having you paired with him and not Choi. The saving grace in this scenario. Something he could inaudibly shove in his face and no one be none the wiser.

But he knew if push came to shove, he could kill Choi easy.

Jinwoo smiled sweetly to the room. “Well, while it’s unorthodox they want us to do this, I know me and her will make a good team, just like Hunter Cha and Choi will.”

“A true political answer, good job, Jinwoo.” Lim patted him in the back and threw his hands in his pockets. “But I’m out of here now so enjoy doing whatever in the bedroom.”

“You’re leaving already?” Baek stopped any annoyance and rolled his chair away from Choi a fraction and studied Hunter Lim’s relaxed trudge towards the door.

“Yeah, There was no point us being here if they weren’t going to pair us off with any of the A-Ranks at least or something, they really only needed Jong-In and Jinwoo for the announcement. No one wants to know what sort of kinky stuff they’ll be getting up to, we just continue life as normal. And I have a guild to run, see ya.”

“What’s up with that guy today?”

“He’s right, I gotta guild to run too, see ya!” Ma strolled out of the room without putting his two pence in and closed the door behind him with an untenable pressure pulsing with uncertainty.

“I guess I’ll go too then. I have to go and pack.” Jinwoo stood up without much resistance from the other two.

“I’ll see you later then, Hunter Sung.” Choi smoothed down his suit and left it at that.

Jinwoo walked through headquarters with elation, holding back his smile as soon as he heard you talking with Cha in the hallway. He stopped and listened in the shadows with stealth, not that you would be fooled by that at all. Your perception was far too high.

“It’ll be alright, because we’ll do this together. Shit… okay, okay. We’ll do this, one kid and we’ll bow out. That’s what the chairman said.”

Cha was panicked, trying to control her breathing from behind the stairwell. “Is this really the right thing, though? I can’t help but feel used. How could I look at a baby and just give it away?”

You however, were much calmer, like you had accepted your future path. “You’re right, I feel the same way. At least you’ll be with Jong-In, he’s a real sweet guy. I’m… I’m sorry you weren’t put with Jinwoo. I know you like him.”

Hae-In Cha made her obvious feelings subtle to everyone else, but Jinwoo saw right through them given enough time. He kept it secret, chasing you instead and giving Cha no reason to extend that olive branch. Jinwoo just wasn’t interested. She was a skilled S-Rank hunter for sure, impressive and beautiful, but you… you were something else. And still exploring your abilities to this day.

A point Jinwoo rarely brought up in his mind, that you were incredibly useful to him.

Cha’s breath stuck in her throat, Jinwoo stepped closer to see her expression. “Uh… n-no! I don’t- I mean… well, yeah, I kind of do. But there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s just sex, right?”

Wrong . It wasn’t just sex, not for Jinwoo.

You went in to speak but hesitated, turning your head in Jinwoo’s direction with a scowl, you just missed him.

“What is it?” Cha questioned, her tone softer than before.

“Uh… I-I’m not sure, I thought I saw- listen, just think of it that way. It’s just sex, and hopefully we can do this as quickly as possible. No growing pains, just our jobs. Together, alright?”

It wasn’t just sex. Jinwoo would make that clear every time he fucked you, made you come and forced his name on your lips so loud Jong-In Choi would hear down the hall.

And by that night, when Jinwoo heard the requirements for the programme, ‘At least three times a week, but most nights if you can, depending on your schedules. We’ll try to make them less conflicting as possible’.

Yeah, life looked pretty interesting from here on out.

He’d fuck you every night, no problem, to train you to see just how much you needed him despite your independence.

When the door of the little apartment on top of headquarters closed for the first time behind you, Jinwoo’s web had started weaving. You were so beautiful in the moonlight of the darkened apartment, saying goodbye to Jong-In and Hae-In as they disappeared into their own space. It was more intimate now among the S-Ranks, using first names wholeheartedly like neighbours and friends instead of hunters.

It was all very domesticated.

“So…” You said, clearly ruminating on the path that brought you here.

Jinwoo could see it in your eyes, that doe eyed little stare anxiously darting about the room and everywhere but him.

“So… Uh, you can look at me, y’know?” Jinwo wanted you to look at him the way Jong-In looked at you.

He made it his personal quest, and seeing the system's quest progress unmoved bothered him. Not the best start to an evening, he wondered how to bring you more at ease. Jinwoo waited this long to be in this type of situation and he wasn’t giving up with the opportunity of fucking you senseless and having you all to himself.

“S-sorry, I just don’t really know where to go from here without making it weird.”

Awkward, pressured, even artificial? Maybe. Weird? Never.

“Is this your first time, or?”

You struggled to stifle your gasp in the dark room and shuffled about a bit. “What? N-no I’ve had sex before, Jinwoo.”

He rubbed his neck and feigned embarrassment. “Sorry- bad start. I just wanted to gauge your boundaries. I don’t want to cross any unintentionally.”

More than I already have. That’ll come with time, then she'll be thanking me for doing it.

“Ah crap… what the fuck, Jinwoo. I never thought we’d be in this position.” Hearing your sweet huff of that bratty frustration he knew you were capable of turned him on. “Hae-In really likes you- but you can’t say anything because she made me promise not to tell you, but this feels wrong… it feels…”

What words would you utter? Jinwoo would use perfect, or extraordinary. Nothing negative like you wanted to use.

“She likes you. It’s like I’m betraying her.”

“Look.” Jinwoo changed the subject immediately, thinking of ways to change your mind without his influence. “Why don’t we forget about everything outside, and just focus on what’s going on in here? We could pretend that we just had a really awesome date, I asked you back to my place and you said yes.”

“Like roleplaying?” Exactly.

He nodded like you could see him properly. “It might ease your nerves.”

“A-alright… but can we leave the lights off? I’m not sure I want that right now.”

“Of course. Anything you want.”

Jinwoo heard your steps draw nearer, closer until you were near enough to take you right then and there if you let him. He’d pick you up and carry you over to the open planned kitchen counter and fuck you with your knees close to your chest.

Fuck. I have to try that sometime.

“So…” You said again, tugging on his jacket to get his role played attention. “Thanks for this. I mean it…”

Jinwoo sensed you were trying to get in character, he took the lead like most things in this relationship were going to develop. “Thanks for tonight, I had a great time, I wasn’t sure you were going to come up here. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“I did want to. It’s just… I haven’t done this with many people so I’m a little nervous.”

He took our chin with his thumb and forefinger, trying not to smile at your quick inhale. “It’s alright. I can lead you through it, how does that sound?”

“Yes. Yes please.”

“I think it’ll be better if we kiss a little first, do you want to?”

When you nodded and allowed yourself to get close, your lips were everything Jinwoo had wondered about. So supple, warm and plump enough to suck on, to bite and pull. He could tell you were reluctant, wooden with your position with your hands still enough to pass for a marble statue. So Jinwoo took your hands between his fingers, small enough for one hand whilst the other ran through your hair and brought you closer than before.

Your tongue drowned him in his lust he was so desperately holding back, to not let his urges spoil you before he had a chance to earn your trust completely. Jinwoo wanted to ruin you until you couldn’t speak coherently and only communicated in murmurs and babbling because of a multiple orgasm streak that got you squirting all over his face.

And then you pulled away from him. For a second there, he thought you were backing out of it. But then you said, “Will you look after me, Jinwoo? I’m scared.”

Jinwoo took an educated guess and assumed it was the tough stuff, the pregnancy to come and all that other stuff. Well, of course it was, having mind bending sex wasn’t something to be frightened of. But getting you pregnant was something Jinwoo couldn’t join you with fear because it excited him, it turned him on something chronic.

And pregnancy sex? Sign him up.

He took your hand and walked off without consulting you, straight towards the bedroom. “Let’s get comfortable.”

“Jinwoo-”

“I’m going to look after you, I promise.”

His impromptu plan worked, he might have had innocent blood on his hands doing it, but he couldn’t wait to have something more precious in his hands for years to come and now that he had it, he wouldn’t let it go.

And that was you.

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974,@snowy-violet,@sky2lar,@starrynights23x,@minh907

@yessirr7,@aussie-boys-wife,@yihona-san06

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

537 notes · View notes

callalillywrites · 2 months ago

Text

Allergies and Cuddles

Allergies have been kicking my butt lately. Height of that came a couple days ago when high winds really pushed around a lot of dirt and pollen. All I wanted was a nap and someone to cuddle with. Hence, the creation of this story.

Who better to cuddle up with than two super soldiers?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky) x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Summary: Steve comes home to find you curled up on the couch with Bucky, napping to reduce the affects of your allergies. Fluff and more cuddles ensue in this slice of life piece.

Warnings: Slightly worried Steve and Bucky; (over)protectiveness activated; comforting each other; teasing; established relationship; lots of fluff; Steve POV

A/N: As stated above, this story was wholly inspired and written quite quickly, so any and all mistakes are my own. Just wanted a bit of fluff to make myself feel better and this is what came out of that.

Stucky Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

A too-quiet apartment greeted Steve when he came home that evening.

When he would've called out, his enhanced hearing picked up the faintest of hums. Following it, he soon found himself upon a scene that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bucky lounged across their over-sized sofa with you laying across him, completely dead to the world. If he squinted, Steve could almost imagine the thinnest, cutest line of drool seeping from your slightly parted lips onto Bucky's shirt. One of your arms rested somewhere between yours and Bucky's body, but the one Steve could see had sneaked its way under Bucky's shirt, caging Bucky under you. No doubt you sought the warmth of his skin, something you often did when you weren't feeling well.

While you slept, Bucky had one arm draped protectively across you while the other held one of his favorite books. The book had pages threatening to leave what little binding kept them in the right place, but that never stopped Bucky from picking it up again and again. From the looks of this one, Steve would be searching out a replacement soon enough. Bucky's gaze would drift over to you every other line or so, just because he could.

The TV played some show that you'd gotten into recently, replaying one of the older episodes. The volume turned down low so it wouldn't bother your rest. Knowing you as he did, you probably had it up while you fought to stay awake, leaving Bucky to lower it once you were completely out.

Leaning against the wide opening from the hallway, Steve crossed his arms and just enjoyed the scene before him. If he had his sketchpad, he might've taken up residence in the nearby chair and sketched until he had both of you permanently down on paper, a memory no one could take from any of you. But, he didn't so he settled for mentally drawing this moment to revisit later.

"You gonna keep staring at us, or you actually gonna say something, punk?"

"Admiring the view." Steve pushed off the wall and crept closer, taking care not to disturb your slumber. "How long has she been out?"

Bucky closed his book though his attention focused solely on you for a moment. The arm holding you drew soothing patterns on your back as he mumbled, "About an hour or so. Found her trying to fall asleep at her desk in the office."

Sinking into a squat, Steve dropped a quick kiss on Bucky's forehead before turning his full attention on you. He could make out your red, slightly swollen nose as well as the puffiness that lingered around your eyes. The softest snores left you, telling him that your allergies had truly gotten the best of you.

"Her meds not working?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think she's been keeping up with them like she should. Her bottle's almost full, and it's almost a month old."

Steve's brows drew together. It wasn't a secret that your allergies could get bad, and you were usually on top of taking your medication to keep them from overwhelming you. Plus, you knew they worried about you whenever you weren't feeling up to your usual self.

"She took some before I made her lay down with me." Bucky's voice broke through Steve's thoughts. His own worry peeked through despite usually being the more level-headed of the group when it came to these matters. "Maybe it wouldn't be the worst to take her in and see if there's something a bit stronger out there. Nothing over the counter seems to help her anymore."

"I'll call Dr. Cho." Steve pushed to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "If she can't help, then she'll know who we can talk to."

"Tell her our girl didn't sleep well last night either. She tossed and turned pretty good. I'm that didn't help."

"Or you two can stop worrying and just let me sleep for a little longer," you groused, having been roused by your bladder to hear your boyfriends fretting. "It's the wind. Once it stops blasting away and blowing pollen around, I'll be back to normal."

"Sweetheart," Steve started.

Having had this conversation before, you lifted your head until your gaze could meet his. A steely determination stole over your features that had Steve stopping in his tracks.

"I'm going to be fine," your tone softened as you moved to capture Bucky's eye as well, "I promise."

"One week," Steve vowed.

You nodded, knowing he meant it. One week to get better, or they'd be taking you to the doctor. The last thing they wanted was to lose you when they'd worked so hard to rebuild their lives after having their old ones ripped away from them.

"Now, that's settled," you pushed up from your position against Bucky, "I'm going to the bathroom. Then, we're going to discuss dinner. I'm too gross to be touching food, so I'll let you two roshambo to see who's got kitchen duty tonight."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind you when Bucky turned towards Steve. His expression morphed into one of the softest looks he kept solely for his two loves. "Don't worry about it. It's my turn to cook anyway. Besides, you look like you could use some of her cuddles."

"You sure?" Steve couldn't help asking.

While the day hadn't been bad per se, it hadn't been a great one, either. So many reports had been perched on his desk first thing. All needed his immediate approval before missions could move forward. Sure, that was typically either Fury's or Hill's job, but they'd both gone on some mysterious vacation, leaving him to handle it.

Then, there'd been a small crisis or two where Tony's latest invention had gone a bit awry. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't set Banner off, transforming him into the Hulk. A quick call in to Nat had helped, but it'd taken some time for Hulk to fully retreat and allow Banner the chance to return.

To say Steve was a bit wired would be an understatement.

Bucky tapped his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure. Let her help you."

As if summoned, you stepped out of the bedroom. Your appearance looked a bit more put-together than it had when Steve first arrived home. Hair dampened and your face scrubbed. While your eyes still retained a bit of puffiness, they remained bright and alert as you closed the distance between you and Steve.

A cheeky smile flitted over your features as you asked, "Bucky lose, or did you pull rank on him?"

"He offered actually," Steve huffed, shooting you his best glare.

It had little effect as usual, but that didn't mean he didn't try now and then.

Your fingers slid between his and gently tugged him closer.

He went willingly.

His free hand dropped to your waist when you rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Your gaze roved over his features. A soft frown formed as you murmured, "You're looking a little piqued yourself. Off day?"

"Something like that, sweetheart."

A soft noise escaped you. Your hand tightened around his as you tugged him toward the couch.

"Koala or weighted blanket?"

Steve's entire being sagged at the way you so easily read him. He honestly had no clue what he'd do without you and Bucky in his life, and he really didn't want to find out.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hand out of yours so he could grip you around the waist and lift. Your arms and legs wrapped around him without hesitation, allowing him to do what he wanted most. He dropped onto the couch, his legs stretching out on the floor. His arms snuck around you to hold you as close as he possibly get you while his head sank to your shoulder.

Your fingers inched their way up his neck until they scraped against and through his hair. Soft kisses pressed into his shoulder and neck where you could reach within the cocoon of his arms.

"I'm sorry," you whispered at some point, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I'll do better about taking my allergy meds. It's just been a crazy week, and I hadn't meant to forget. It honestly didn't hit me that I had until the winds kicked up a few days ago. Please, don't worry about me."

Steve tightened his hold. "Always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. That's what you do when it's the people you love."

"Okay, that's a fair point, but I'm still going to do better. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily." You pulled back enough to meet his gaze. In the same cheeky tone as earlier, you added, "How's that?"

"Better," he murmured, shaking his head and huffing with pure affection.

You must've been satisfied because your cheekiness turned impish. "You are quite tense, Captain, and Bucky missed his workout because of me. It seems only fair after dinner that we have a special training session. Get all these kinks worked out and make sure you both stay in top physical form. What do you say?"

As if to further your suggestion, you wiggled in his lap until Steve moved his hands to grip your hips. A groan slipped past his lips when you managed to wriggle once more before he could fully keep you still.

Stealing a quick but searing kiss, Steve's grin grew. "I'd say I hope you've kept up your stretching routine, sweetheart, because it's going to be a long training session tonight. May even last until the early morning before I'm fully relaxed."

"Oh, my poor Captain," you crooned sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "We won't stop until you and Bucky are fully satisfied."

"And what about you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his jaw towards his neck, "I know I'll be properly taken care of in more ways than one tonight. My two super soldiers never let me down."

"Damn right, we don't," Bucky said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Better eat up fast because that special training starts in an hour."

Steve let you scoot out of his lap after claiming one last kiss, patting your butt as you moved towards the kitchen.

You tossed Bucky a salute, saying, "Yes, sir, Sergeant."

Steve's heart had never felt so full as he watched Bucky sweep you up, your giggles spilling out as you traded kisses with him before he sat you like the precious being you were in your spot. All three places had been set while he'd held you with the small candelabra his mother had left him burned brightly with the new candles you'd chosen a few weeks ago.

Home.

He was home.

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #established relationship #fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #x female reader #female reader

426 notes · View notes

pikahlua · 6 months ago

Note

Oh? Please, Madam

What Izuku rejects is the opportunity to be Katsuki's SIDEKICK. He doesn't reject being a hero or competing with Katsuki. He rejects working FOR/UNDER Katsuki. Which is hilarious because Katsuki accepts (apparently multiple times) showing up as a guest lecturer to help out Izuku's class. Katsuki tells Izuku that "If everyone is special, no one is special," which has the potential for SO MUCH DOUBLE MEANING. But what there is no ambiguity about to me is he's basically telling Izuku "Hey, notice this. I'm treating you special. You're special to me. NOTICE."

It's also implied that Izuku sees Katsuki more regularly than he sees most others from their class, which is emphasized by the previous chapter when Aizawa complains to him about Katsuki's behavior in public affecting his ranking. Katsuki basically tells Izuku he needs to start thinking about himself more, and he also ends their final interaction with a "See ya [later]." Katsuki is NOT talking about Ochako, but Izuku takes some of his advice as the impetus for going to talk to Ochako (specifically they just wanna talk more after the dinner since the dinner is now over and they didn't get to talk). So what was Katsuki thinking of? I personally read his "See ya later" as "You'll figure it out, just go handle what you gotta right now and you can catch up to me later."

Hilariously, Izuku calls Katsuki out for being the one to say "If you don't start thinking a little more highly of yourself, you won't notice the things you should." Izuku's response is basically, "Look who's talking." Again, the potential for double meaning here is painfully obvious. He could be referring to SO MANY THINGS and we're meant to infer what that is. WE GET TO GUESS. Izuku could be saying "You did stuff just as bad as what you're saying," or "You're STILL not noticing something, Kacchan."

And Izuku taking inspiration from Katsuki's words to go talk to Ochako is meaningful in another way--IT MEANS IZUKU LISTENED TO HIM. Katsuki is having an influence on Izuku in a way to improve who he is just like Izuku did for him in high school. Izuku takes Katsuki's advice seriously. NO ONE HAS EVER GOTTEN HIM TO UNDERSTAND THIS LESSON BEFORE NOW. It ends with Izuku and Ochako deciding to talk more, but what it shows us is the beginning of Izuku considering himself more. If Izuku follows Katsuki's advice long enough, he'll end up back in the competition with Katsuki just like Katsuki expects him to. That is just as easy of a conclusion to make from the theme of "inevitability" that Shouto gives us (and that Izuku also takes to heart).

This ending implies that inevitably Izuku's gonna catch up again, basically. Things will continue to change. So yeah, we get a beginning where he and Ochako meet up to talk, but it's just a beginning. It's one night of chatting. They're seeing if something's there now (which kind of implies that there wasn't much there before), but it's left open-ended. And I think it's left open-ended what happens with Ochako on purpose because anyone can read how that ends up however they like. You just have to decide as a reader what's "inevitable" for Izuku Midoriya from this point on. Me? I've decided Izuku is taking Katsuki's advice to treat people who mean more to him better. Ochako is just the beginning. Izuku has other people in his life he needs to show love to as well (because that's what this is, Izuku is learning to show people that they're important to him, that he loves them, because saving people doesn't do that--he saves EVERYONE). And then maybe he'll start to see how the people who love him treat him special too, like guest SPECIAL (same kanji) LECTURER KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

tl;dr there is a lot left open to interpretation and it's probably on purpose, read the chapter however you like, just like we did with the last chapter.

...and my interpretation which is the correct one is that Katsuki tells Izuku, "Here let me show you how to love people, damnit!" to give him the character development everyone has been begging for him to have for years, to realize that saving people doesn't mean they're special to him if he's known for saving everyone ever, so like, maybe go show them you care in OTHER ways, Izuku, and also I'll be waiting right here for you to come show you love me you jackass (and he does, he does come show him that)

#signed ask #ask pika #herewardam #my hero academia manga spoilers #mha bonus chapter spoilers #epilogue arc spoilers #bakudeku

774 notes · View notes

tropes-and-tales · 5 months ago

Text

First Time for Everything

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

CW: Angst (friends-with-benefits; idiots in love; talk of bad past relationships; injuries); smut (vague references to sex; oral sex gone awry); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5591

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way. Likely grammar bugaboos, tense switches, etc.

Bob Floyd would have never thought he’d end up in a friends-with-benefits situation, but there’s a first time for everything.

You’re the one who drives the entire enterprise. A civilian who works at Top Gun, you’re no stranger to the stress of dealing with a multi-billion-dollar fleet of planes. You serve as a liaison between the Navy and the bevy of contractors who build and maintain the planes, and if Bob has to juggle a million complicated systems mid-flight, you have to juggle a million tricky relationships and contracts on the ground.

You put the question to him, late one night at the Hard Deck. Harvard and Yale had been leading a spirited conversation about dry spells, long distant relationships, juggling hook-ups. You and Bob sat there, listening but adding little. But after the other Daggers started to peel away one by one, you had turned to Bob and started asking about his love life.

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence—you sipped at your drink; Bob cracked another peanut.

“Any prospects?” you asked.

Another shake of his head.

“Yeah, same here,” you replied.

Then there was another long stretch of silence, but this time you fixed Bob with a curious look. It lasted long enough for him to notice, for him to squirm in his seat—

“So, I have an idea, and you’re totally free to say ‘no,’” you started, and the rest was history.

-----

That was months ago. Bob has gotten to know you much better since then.

Much, much better.

He knows what you feel like. He knows what you taste like. He knows the place on your neck that makes you keen when he puts his mouth to it. He knows exactly where to press the tips of his fingers when they are inside you, where to find the spot that makes your pussy pulse with arousal, that makes your breathing stutter and your eyes roll back, that makes you moan out his name—

He knows how it sounds when you moan his name, and he knows how that affects him in turn, and he knows that he doesn’t know nearly enough about you.

He doesn’t know what you eat for breakfast or how you take your coffee or if you even drink coffee at all. He doesn’t know much about your family, little about your childhood, only a bit about your wants and likes and dislikes.

Because of the rules you laid out that night at the Hard Deck.

Hooking up, friends-with-benefits, you had explained, requires clear lines be drawn. Otherwise, it gets messy. Feelings develop. Misunderstandings happen. People get hurt, sometimes badly.

Your rules keep those lines clearly drawn. No spending the night. No dates beyond sex—no lunch dates or movie nights, no days at the beach together. You call each other and make plans to fuck, and then you part, and that keeps it neat. Clean.

There’s no way you can know it, because you don’t really know Bob either, but there’s no rule on earth you could put in place that would keep him from falling for you anyway. You work with numbers and contracts all day, so you believe in the power of words, in rules.

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you. That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him. That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough. The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place. The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

Which is why your rules turn out to be so important after all: because here he is, hopelessly, painfully in love while you only see him a safe place to release your sexual frustrations. He cannot imagine how much worse it would hurt if those lines didn’t exist.

*****

You have a chronic issue with men.

You pick the worst possible boyfriends. From high school until now, you seem to only attract cheaters, losers, and general assholes. Numerous boyfriends cheated on you. One stole your car. One stole your prescription sleeping pills and got arrested trying to sell them.

It’s not that you’re attracted to assholes, really. The whole bad-boy schtick bores you. It’s more that you like to fix things; you like to turn chaos into order. That trait serves you well at work, untangling all the intricate contracts and orders and rules between the Navy and their contractors.

That trait serves you less well in love, because people often can’t be fixed, at least not without wanting to be fixed. And anyway, the guys you date need deep fucking therapy, not a girlfriend with a fetish for setting order to the universe.

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood: the only child of two career Army parents. Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested. Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

But the therapist did make you aware of your bad patterns with men, so you swear off relationships, which is easy enough.

You still have needs, though.

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month. Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too. Profile them, watched how they acted when they think no one is watching. Watch them sober, watch them drunk. Watch to see which ones are handsy in an unwelcome way, and which ones remain respectful.

It’s Bob Floyd who catches your eye.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually. Quiet, reserved. Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs. Plays pool when someone needs an opponent. Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home. He’s so stable and pulled-together. You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car. Not your type at all.

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way. Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually, but you aren’t looking for a boyfriend or a future husband. You just need a zero risk, reliable guy to get off with. It seems like a long shot because Bob is so quiet, but when you put the idea to him, he blinks…then asks you to clarify.

Then he agrees.

-----

That was months ago.

The arrangement works. It’s exactly what you were looking for. Bob Floyd is exactly what you thought he was: reliable, steady. He’s no broken man-child; he’s quiet but that belies a secure sort of masculinity that you’ve never really experienced before. He knows who he is and what he wants, and he isn’t swayed by anything. He’s solid.

He’s also surprising, in some ways.

To be crude about it, in looking for a friend-with-benefits, you needed only two things in a man: a clean bill of health and a hard dick. Bob is able to provide both (he hands you his test results from his latest physical, neatly folded in an envelope the first night you meet up).

He is also able to provide more than that. The first night is a little awkward, but only because you are near-strangers.

The second encounter is better.

The third encounter is…wonderful. It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems. Calibrating you. Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again. Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm. Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

It's been months, but for fucks sake, you’re falling for him. It’s embarrassing, because you gave him this tough-girl speech about rules and lines and not catching feelings, and he had nodded seriously and said he understood…and now here you are, the idiot who is catching feelings, who is realizing that maybe your type of man was wrong all along, that maybe who you needed was a reliable, steady man with warmth and blue eyes that swim a bit behind the lens of his thick glasses.

*****

It’s been months, and Bob always worries that this arrangement will end.

One of your rules had been that the arrangement stops the moment one of you find someone else, and Bob always worries that someone else will catch your eye. That you’ll find some man—you are surrounded by handsome, capable men every day, for heaven’s sake—that you find an appealing prospect. Someone you want to sleep with and be with.

Someone better than him.

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence. He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend? If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date. Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach. If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks. If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

Bob decides to do what he can, which is to just be the best lover he can be. To be the most considerate, most adventuresome, most giving man you’ve ever taken to bed. It’s all he can do anyway, so he might as well give it his best.

-----

Bob usually lets you lead. He lets you set the schedule, and for every five times you call to hook-up, he calls once.

The arrangement, such as it is, does work for him. For all the angst of his unrequited love for you, the hooking up does relax him. It helps him burn off extra energy, which helps him focus at work.

It also helps him explore things he has never tried before.

With you, Bob has played around with role play: tame scenarios where he gets to pretend that he’s a different person than he is. He has tried a variety of positions that have tested him in both strength and flexibility. If there’s a list of sexual acts, Bob feels like he’s steadily working through it with you.

There’s still one, though…

It’s Fritz who starts the conversation at the Hard Deck. You’re not there, but the guys all are, and the conversation drifts towards the usual locker room talk. Fritz kicks it off by talking about his latest girl. The guys egg him on for details. Bob grins around the rim of his glass, says little, but then Fritz says, “man, when she sits on my face and smothers me in that pussy, I could die happy.”

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts: have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

The idea takes hold so fiercely that Bob has to shift in his seat, suddenly warm at the thought of you sitting on him, his mouth on you. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and he’s sending you a text before he even has a beat to rethink it.

Want to meet up tonight?

You reply within a minute.

Sure. Mine or yours?

Bob pauses and considers. He catches Rooster’s eye and tilts his head at him, gesturing to his roommate for a sidebar. Rooster comes over and stands beside Bob.

“What’s up?” Rooster asks.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

Rooster grins at the question. It’s not exactly a secret that you and Bob are hooking up, though you don’t publicize it either. Bob doesn’t know that his fellow Daggers have a betting pool about how the situation with you will resolve. He’s caught the sly grins between them sometimes and wondered at what they mean.

“You asking if the apartment will be empty?” Rooster asks. “Hell, Baby on Board. Keep it to your room. I don’t care what happens in the privacy of your own room.”

Bob can’t help the blush that heats his face. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but sometime the two of you get lost in the moment, and more than once, Rooster has sidled up to Bob the day after and clapped him on the back, congratulated him on his prowess—

Rooster catches the man’s discomfort and elbows him in the side. “I was planning on finding myself some companionship for the night,” he finally says. “The place is all yours.”

Bob thanks him, then texts you.

My place?

Another beat before your answer comes. When?

Now.

*****

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

Like his text. No softening his final message, just a simple, single word that holds a universe of promise.

Now.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur. You only take a minute to brush your teeth and slip into nicer lingerie, but then you get in your car and head over to his place.

He must have been waiting at the window, watching for you. You aren’t even halfway up the steps to his porch when the door swings open, and there he is.

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him. He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

-----

“Explain it…again,” you manage to get out between kisses. “How does…it work?”

Bob raises himself, props himself on his forearms on either side of your head. His hair is mussed (perfect), and his glasses are on the bedside stand, so his blue eyes peer down at you.

“You sit on my face,” he replies simply.

You huff out a breath. “Sure, but….like, how? I weigh a lot—”

He shakes his head. “Not a problem for me, honey.”

“But I could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could kill you.”

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist. “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

“Not funny!” You poke him in the side, and he laughs again.

“Seriously, Bob. I don’t want to hurt you,” you continue.

“You won’t. I promise. It’ll be fine. But I want to do this.” His smile fades, and he fixes you with a darker look that sends a bolt of lust right through your core. “Please.”

-----

The two of you, once you got over your initial awkwardness, usually move so well together. Perfectly coordinated, in sync.

This…is not that.

For the first time, the two of you aren’t working together. Bob can’t know it, but it’s not just a physical misalignment—there are hidden feelings at play. As you tentatively hover over where he lays on the bed, you feel suddenly exposed, like Bob might be able to see the feelings you’ve caught for him. It’s so intimate, you think, being so bared to him. You hold yourself back, shy, and Bob doesn’t understand the sudden reticence in you. He chalks it up to fear of hurting him.

And you can’t know it, but Bob absolutely loves how intimate it is, being so exposed to him. There are hidden feelings on his side too—how hard it hits him, that he’s never done this with another woman before, and how he cannot imagine doing it with another one after you. He’s ravenous for you, wants to possess you in every way he can, but when he tries to tug you closer to him, you chalk it up to general horniness and nothing more.

It is all misunderstanding, in the end. You hold yourself back, hover over his face. He grips your hips, tries to pull you to him. The two of you struggle against the other, not understanding what is really driving the other—

“Come on,” he growls. “Give it to me, honey.”

“Bob, I don’t—”

“I can take it.”

“But I—”

It happens in a split second. Bob tugs you down against him in the exact moment you try to get a better balance over him, and the force of his pulling you down is added to the full weight of you shifting, with a bit of gravity, and you hit Bob so hard.

There’s a sickening crack, like a chicken bone snapping. You look down at him, startled, and see his blue eyes widen in pain—shock—

You scramble off of him, call his name, but he doesn’t move, and then you see it.

Blood. There’s so much blood, all over his face, and you yell his name now, but he still doesn’t move—

You’ve killed him. You’ve murdered him, and you scream. You reach for your phone and fumble it, and your body just acts. You back away, your mind scrambling, and you think I need to stop the bleeding, so you think to go to the bathroom for a towel, but when you pivot quick on your heel and turn towards the closed door, it is already swinging inward, right at your face, hard, and there’s an explosion of pain behind your eyes.

Then everything goes dark, and you don’t wake until you’re in the ambulance.

*****

Bob wakes up to the paramedics sliding him onto the backboard, his head immobilized between two foam blocks. Rooster hovers at the perimeter, a worried look on his face.

“What—” Bob manages to croak out, but the room grows dim again, and he fades in and out until the hospital.

-----

He comes to and stays awake in a quiet hospital room. There’s the steady beep of a monitor somewhere behind and above him. When he tries to turn his head, though, he finds himself held in place by a brace.

“You’re awake finally.” The voice is familiar, and a moment later, Phoenix’s face swims into his peripherals.

“You scared us, Baby on Board.” Rooster, to the left of him.

“Who knew you had it in you?” The voice at the foot of the bed, the hint of smarm. Bob feels a hand on his ankle, jostling him lightly. “You dirty fucking freak.”

“Shut up, Bagman.” Phoenix glares at the cocky pilot, then turns back to Bob, her gaze softening. “How are you feeling?”

He considers his answer. He feels…rough.

He also notices that his Dagger teammates are there, but you are not. Which makes him feel worse.

Phoenix seems to read his thoughts. Something in his expression must give him away, because she leans in closer and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s still downstairs,” she says, low near his ear. “You got a room, but she’s still in the E.R. They haven’t released her yet.”

“E.R.?”

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh. “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.”

Rooster steps closer to the bed and grins down at him. “You’re lucky I struck out at the Hard Deck. I come home, barely get my shoes off, when I hear a scream. I go running back to your room just in time to knock your girl out. She ran headfirst into the door when I opened it.” He claps his hands together. “Down like a bag of rocks.”

Bob’s heart rate picks up, and the monitor registers it. Phoenix glances at the machine and snorts again.

“She’s fine,” she assures him. “I’ve been bouncing between you and her. It’s just slammed down there, so she’s been waiting for the doctor to release her.”

“She’s okay then?”

Phoenix nods. “Dislocated nose. Slight concussion. Embarrassed. Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Bob smiles despite himself. “She thought I was dead?”

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in. “And broke your nose.”

“You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds.

“She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues. “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

“Wow.” Bob breathes out a reedy whistle. “And you’re sure she’s okay?”

Phoenix nods again.

Rooster and Hangman offer to go grab some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving Bob and his partner alone. Phoenix drags a chair over and settles closer to him, and Bob feels his mood sour little by little.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix finally asks.

He lifts his hand, drops it back onto the bed. “I guess it’s ruined now.”

“What is?”

“Our…arrangement. Mine and hers.”

She tilts her head. “How so?”

“She has all these rules. To keep it clean. To keep feelings out, you know?” He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage. “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.”

Phoenix stares at him, but a smile starts to creep across her face. She shakes her head then, grips his shoulder again.

“Do you love her, Bobby?” The question is asked softly, kindly.

Bob forgets the brace for a second and tries to nod. “Yeah.”

“You ever tell her?”

“Against the rules.”

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?”

“No.”

Her smile widens. “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

*****

Hangman’s the one who stops to check in on you. He has a paper cup of coffee in each hand, and he holds both up to you.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked. One is black, one is cream and sugar.”

“Cream and sugar, please.”

He walks over to your bed and hands it to you, then studies you. You know you must look like hell—your eyes red from the hysterical crying of thinking yourself a murderer. Your nose—not broken, only dislocated—swollen and tender. And the general misery of how badly everything has turned out.

“You like the little nerd, huh?”

You take a sip of the coffee and thank him for it.

You don’t answer his question.

Hangman sighs, leans against the wall. “It’s just that, if you do, I’d like to know. I have a lot riding on it.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.” He sips his own coffee, smiles at you. “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.”

“You bet on us?”

He holds up a hand. “Whoa. All the Daggers bet on you. It wasn’t just me.”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

“Some of us bet that you’d end up together. Others bet that you wouldn’t. Not that hard to understand.”

You try to take a steadying breath through your nose, which is an effort with how swollen it is. You look away from him and fix your eyes on the open doorway of your room. You watch the nurses and doctors scurry back and forth, the gurneys of hurt and sick people.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer. “I nearly killed the guy. Is there a pool on that?”

Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed. “You didn’t nearly kill him. You only lightly injured him. Then Bradley lightly injured you. It’s hilarious.”

You can only wince at his word choice. It’s not funny at all. Miramar is a gossipy hive of rumor, and Bob’s injuries will put him out of commission for at least a while—

“Is this gonna hurt his career at Top Gun?” you ask Hangman. You glance over at him and catch the way his expression softens at the angst in your voice. “Did I just fuck up his life completely?”

He reaches out and grasps your hand for a moment, gives you a friendly squeeze before he releases you. “Shit happens. The Navy knows that.”

“Still…”

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.” The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.” A beat. “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy. He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

“Jesus,” you groan, and you cover your face with your hands while Hangman laughs, but a second later the doctor enters your room and tells you that you are being released.

Hangman doesn’t take the hint and leave. He watches you sign off on your discharge papers, sips his coffee. He hands you your shoes, and he helpfully holds out your coat so you can slide into it.

“That little nerd loves you, you know,” he says suddenly. “It’s obvious as hell, which is why I laid a big bet on it.”

“He does?” The surprise in your voice makes him chuckle, then shake his head.

“Probably hard to see it from where you’re sitting, but he does. His dumb face lights up the minute he sees you, and when you aren’t around, he’s like a lost puppy. So if you feel even an inkling of the same for him, just go upstairs and put him out of his misery, okay?”

It feels like grace you don’t deserve. You hurt Bob, even if you hadn’t meant to, and for Hangman to offer this sliver of hope you don’t think you deserve—

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. Hangman doesn’t remark on them; he only stands by the doorway and waits for you.

“You’re a regular Cupid, Jake,” you offer.

“Nah.” He finishes off his coffee, crumples the cup, and tosses it in the nearby trash can. “I just want that fucking pool money.”

-----

The tears that threatened downstairs…they break free the moment you finally see him.

He looks awful. He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first. His nose is swollen in a splint, he’s in a neck brace, and both eyes are so bruised that they can barely open beyond slits.

But his smile…

God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said: his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt. It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man. That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured. That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you. Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

Phoenix and Rooster have the good sense to leave, ushering Hangman along with them. Bob, when he sees the tears coursing down your face, frowns and holds a hand out to you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s fine,” he repeats. You make your way over to him and take his hand, and maybe it is okay. He holds you tight, his big, warm palm enfolding yours—

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You shake your head. You’re not okay at all. You don’t know if Jake was lying, but you can’t lie to Bob anymore just as you can’t lie to yourself.

“I broke one of the rules,” you admit. You watch him, wary. You have the sense of how he might react, but you can’t know for sure. You just have to push through and say it. Put it out there.

“I broke a rule too,” he replies. He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah?” It comes out shaky, unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Which rule?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss to the back of it. He’s so damned soft, and you blink against the fresh tears that threaten to spill over your face.

“It’s your own fault,” he grumbles, but he smiles when he says it. “If you didn’t want me falling for you, you shouldn’t have been so easy to fall for.”

You laugh, a nervous sound that nudges up against the wall of tears you’re struggling to hold back. “Even though I almost killed you?”

“I mean, you didn’t almost kill me, but you definitely owe me for all this.” He gestures with his free hand at his face.

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—”

“Just a date,” he interrupts. “I just want one date with you.”

“That’s it?” The sick feeling in your stomach starts to recede, and it’s replaced by the fluttery feeling of promise, of something new and wonderful starting.

“Just once chance to show you how good it could be.” His expression is dead serious, and he squeezes your hand again. “Me and you. For real this time.”

“I, uh…” You clear your throat and glance at his bright blue gaze, then look away. You fix your eyes on where your hands are joined together. Your hand fits perfectly in his.

“I’ve only ever dated assholes,” you admit. Another glance at him to see how he takes in your words. “Guys who don’t have their shit together. It’s why I wanted the whole…arrangement with you. I’ve never been with a man who didn’t need, like, intensive therapy. Or the occasional law enforcement intervention.”

“First time for everything,” Bob replies mildly.

“What if…what if I don’t know how to be in a relationship unless…unless…” You trail off, not sure how to say it without it sounding completely terrible…but then, the reality of your dating life has been completely terrible anyway.

“You afraid you don’t know how to be in a relationship unless you’re miserable?” he asks gently.

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.” He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him. “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

You perch awkwardly on the sliver of bed available to you, but Bob reaches up and gets a hand on your shoulder, tugs you gently down towards him. It’s careful maneuvering—a stark difference to what got you here—but you eventually get comfortable beside him, your cheek against his shoulder, your temple against the hard molded plastic of his brace. His hand finds yours again, and he threads his fingers through yours.

“What if we started with that one date you owe me?” he offers. “And then maybe a second date. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you see how it feels to not be miserable.”

One date, maybe a second.

“I think I can handle that,” you reply.

“Then a third date, then another.”

You smile. “Okay.”

“Maybe around, say, the fifth date, you can spend the night. Let me make you pancakes in the morning. Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Okay.”

“Then after maybe a month, you could keep some stuff at my place. Shampoo, extra clothes. So you’re comfortable.”

“I could take you to my favorite taco place,” you offer. “Over in Imperial County.”

“I’d like that.” He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.”

“Would they make me miserable?” you tease.

“Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back. “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

“They sound horrible,” you laugh.

“The worst.” He chuckles, and a long moment of silence stretches between you, but it’s comfortable. His warm hand in yours, the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring him, the steady sound of his breathing…the slightly whistling quality of your own breathing through your swollen nose.

“You know, I’ve never taken a girl home to meet my family before,” he says, and his voice is serious. “Never even considered it before.”

You lift your head a bit to look at him, and you see the thoughtful quality of his expression. You settle back against him.

“And you’re considering it with the girl who broke your neck, broke your nose, and shamed you in front of the United States Navy?”

He chuckles again. “You didn’t break my neck and I’m not in trouble with the Navy,” he says. “And yes, I’ve considered it. First time for everything.”

He doesn’t add anything else, and the drama of the evening starts to hit you. You feel your eyes getting heavy, start to doze off in the hospital bed with him. His verb tense choice, though—he has considered it, past tense, not is considering it, present tense—makes you wonder how long Bob might have been breaking that rule…

Bob doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks it: he never took a girl home to his family because he vowed to only ever do it once—with the girl he plans to marry.

#tropes and tales #clear the inbox 2024 #kinktober2024 #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #top gun maverick

786 notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 2 years ago

Text

simon is so sweet on you :( you’re his pretty girl, like how could he not be? you’re the best thing to ever happen to him!

it took forever to get to this point but it was so worth it.

any time his fingers glide over your back or when he grips at your waist as he guides you through a crowd. all the initial struggles you both had at the beginning completely forgotten.

he can’t get enough of you. seriously.

like before, he never cared about how long a mission took, he never really had anything worth coming back to, but now? the second he finds out he’s going to be away from you he’s so grumpy :(((

huffing and smoking even more than usual, the thought of leaving you alone drives him mad.

he definitely sneaks in one of your shirts into his away bag so his clothes can smell of you.

refuses to carry a picture of you on him for your own safety, but you had gotten into the habit of leaving sticky notes with cute messages for him all over his office. there’s one that just said “i love you.”

yeah he’s guarding that with his life and he takes it everywhere.

he loves to spoil his sweet girl. with flowers, lingerie, food, his affection. he’s always touching you somehow. gently squeezing at the plush of your hips, kissing your neck, or running his hands through your hair.

your just so soft compared to him. :((

he loves the way your eyes glaze over when he’s a little rough in the way he tugs on you. or when his thumb runs along your bottom lip. you’re just as needy for him as he is for you and it makes his brain fuzzy.

he can’t fathom why someone as good as you would want someone like him. but he’s grateful all the same.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost riley #call of duty #cod #cod modern warfare

7K notes · View notes

mywhisperingwords · 5 months ago

Text

the chocolates | fred g. weasley

summary: fred weasley, a love potion, and a closet—the perfect recipe for disaster word count: 2.5k masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual post-dinner chaos—laughter, shouts from an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, and the faint scratching of quills from students rushing to finish essays.

You were curled up in your usual spot near the fire, absently chewing on the end of your quill as you debated whether your essay on Bezoars needed another paragraph. The warmth of the flames combined with the lively hum of the room almost lulled you into a state of contentment.

That is, until the portrait hole slammed open with a bang, silencing the room.

Fred Weasley burst in, looking like he’d sprinted all the way from the Great Hall. His tie was askew, his hair sticking up in several directions, and his face—well, his face was set in an expression of utter determination.

“There you are!” he boomed, pointing directly at you.

You blinked. “What—”

But before you could finish, Fred crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, clutching your hand in both of his as the entire room watched in stunned silence.

“My darling,” Fred said, his voice trembling with emotion. “My light, my muse, my reason for existing—I’ve been a fool to wait so long to tell you this, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you.”

The quill slipped from your fingers. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated, louder this time, as though sheer volume would make his words more believable. “You’re the sun to my Quidditch pitch, the sugar to my treacle tart, the spell to my wand. Say you’ll be mine forever!”

A beat of stunned silence followed. Then—

“Did he just compare you to a Quidditch pitch?” George’s amused voice cut through the stillness.

Fred whipped around, glaring at his twin. “Shut it, George. You wouldn’t understand true love if it hit you with a Bludger.”

The absurdity of the situation might have been funny and a bit sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You yanked your hand out of Fred’s grip and stood, glaring at him.

“Fred, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, springing to his feet with alarming energy. “I’m in love with you. Have been for ages. But tonight, I ate those chocolates and suddenly realized that life without you is meaningless.”

Your stomach dropped. Chocolates?

“Wait,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “What chocolates?”

Fred grinned. “The ones in the green box on my bed! Absolutely delicious—did you make them for me, darling? A little token of your affection?”

You froze, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. The chocolates.

You had made them, but not for Fred. They were part of your Potions homework—Professor Snape had tasked the class with brewing a subtle love potion and incorporating it into a confection. Your plan had been to dispose of them after class. But you’d gotten distracted while helping George brainstorm a prank and probably accidentally left the box in the boys’ dormitory.

Fred had eaten them.

The rest of the evening spiraled into chaos.

Fred followed you everywhere, loudly declaring his undying devotion to anyone who would listen. The common room was no longer just alive with its usual noise—it was filled with Fred’s dramatic serenades and heartfelt speeches.

At one point, he climbed onto the back of the sofa to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! I would like you all to know that I, Fred Weasley, am in love. Truly, madly, deeply—”

“Fred, get down!” you hissed, tugging at his arm.

“—with the most beautiful soul in all of Hogwarts!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “And I don’t care who knows it!”

The younger students cheered enthusiastically, while the older ones groaned in exasperation.

“I’m begging you,” George muttered, rubbing his temples. “End this madness.”

You’d had enough. Grabbing Fred’s wrist, you dragged him out of the common room and into an empty corridor.

“Fred, listen to me. You’re under the influence of a love potion. This isn’t real.” Even if you secretly wished it was, but you would never admit that out loud.

Fred’s response was to grab your hands again, gazing at you with heartbreaking sincerity. “But it feels real, my love. Isn’t that what matters?”

“No!” you snapped, pulling away. “Because you’re going to feel very stupid when this wears off.”

It took until the next morning for the potion to wear off, leaving you sleep-deprived and thoroughly annoyed.

When Fred stumbled into the Great Hall, you could tell instantly that he was back to his normal self. His wide-eyed horror when he spotted you was proof enough.

“I—oh no,” he said, freezing in the doorway. “I didn’t… did I?”

You folded your arms. “You did.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sank into the seat across from you. “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough that half the school thinks we’re engaged,” you deadpanned.

He groaned louder, burying his face in his arms. “Merlin, kill me now.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of hope in your heart. “Well, at least now I know what you’d be like if you fancied me.”

Fred froze, his arms still covering his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. But then, slowly, he sat up, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, that'll never happen," he said, his tone a little too casual. "Can you imagine? Me, fancying you? Talk about a nightmare."

His words hit harder than you expected, your chest tightening uncomfortably.

"Right. A nightmare," you echoed, keeping your voice light even though his dismissal stung more than you wanted to admit.

Fred shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, thanks for, uh, not hexing me last night. I think l'll just... be going now."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone at the table with your thoughts.

Over the next few days, things didn't go back to normal like you'd hoped.

Fred was acting... strange. He didn't avoid you outright, but he also wasn't his usual self. Gone were the easy grins and playful jabs he always threw your way. Instead, he seemed quieter, more distant, and almost hesitant whenever you were around.

At first, you thought he was embarrassed about what had happened, which made sense. After all, he'd spent an entire evening serenading you and professing his undying love in front of half the common room. Who wouldn't want to disappear after that?

But the longer his odd behavior went on, the harder it was to shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't just embarrassment keeping him away.

Maybe he regretted it-not just the potion-induced spectacle, but all of it.

The chocolates, the confessions, even spending time with you.

The thought made your chest ache in a way that surprised you. You hadn't realized just how much you'd grown to enjoy Fred's attention, his laughter, the way he always managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel brighter.

But now, it felt like he was slipping away, and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that Fred Weasley would never feel that way about you. And even if he did, it was only because of a stupid potion. Nothing real.

Still, the ache didn't go away.

The days dragged on, and the awkwardness between you and Fred showed no signs of fading. It was as though an invisible wall had gone up between you, and neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break it down.

Unfortunately for you, George Weasley had noticed.

One evening, as you sat in the common room trying (and failing) to focus on your Potions essay, George dropped into the seat across from you with a casual grin that immediately put you on edge.

“Hey there,” he said, propping his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, George?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” he asked, feigning offense. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

You shot him a flat look.

“Alright, fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t help but notice you and Fred have been acting… weird lately. Care to explain?”

Your stomach clenched. “We’re not acting weird.”

George snorted. “Right. And Peeves isn’t a menace. Come on, what happened? Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other and now you’re too shy to make eye contact?”

Heat flooded your face. “What? No! That’s not—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” George smirked, but his eyes were sharper than usual, like he was trying to piece something together. “Still, you two have been avoiding each other like the plague, and it’s getting pretty pathetic. So, here’s the deal—I’m going to help.”

You groaned. “I don’t need your help, George.”

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off his robes. “Because you’re getting it anyway.”

Before you could argue, he was gone, whistling as he disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

The next day, you found yourself standing outside a supply closet near the Charms classroom, clutching a note George had pressed into your hand that morning. “Meet me here at seven,” it read, the handwriting unmistakably his.

You had half a mind to ignore it, but curiosity—and a faint flicker of hope that he might have some kind of plan to fix things with Fred—got the better of you.

When you opened the door, the last person you expected to see was Fred, but you should’ve.

He was leaning against a stack of boxes, arms crossed and looking just as startled to see you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“George told me to meet him,” you said, stepping inside. “Why are you here?”

“He told me the same thing,” Fred muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the door. “Wait a minute—”

Before either of you could react, the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clunk.

Fred lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, jiggling it uselessly.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “It’s locked?”

Fred sighed, resting his forehead against the door. “Yeah. It’s locked.”

The silence in the cramped closet was unbearable. You could hear every breath Fred took, every restless shuffle of his feet. He was standing close—too close—his familiar scent of soap and something faintly sweet filling the air.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to laugh. Mostly, you wanted to get out of there before you said something you’d regret.

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” Fred muttered, pacing the tiny space like a trapped animal.

“Maybe he’s sick of you avoiding me,” you snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

Fred froze mid-step, his back to you. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because you’ve barely said three words to me in the last week, and you won’t even look at me.”

Fred’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it!” you demanded, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I can think is that you’re embarrassed about what happened. About me. And honestly, Fred, if that’s the case, then—”

“It’s because I like you, alright?” Fred exploded, spinning around to face you.

The words slammed into you like a rogue Bludger, knocking the air from your lungs.

“What?” you whispered, barely able to process what he’d just said.

“I like you,” Fred repeated, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve liked you for ages, and that stupid potion just… it made it impossible to hide. And then when it wore off, I panicked because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to ruin things, so I thought maybe if I stayed away…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I was avoiding you because I’m a coward. Not because I’m embarrassed. Never that.”

Your heart was racing, your emotions a chaotic swirl of disbelief, anger, and something else—something warm and fragile that you’d been too afraid to name until now.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling.

Fred blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, stepping closer until you were mere inches apart. “Because I like you too, and you could’ve just said something instead of making me think you hated me.”

Fred’s eyes widened, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you with a desperation that made your knees weak.

You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his robes as the tension that had been building between you for weeks melted away, replaced by something infinitely sweeter.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well, well. About time.”

You and Fred broke apart, spinning to see George leaning casually against the doorframe, his grin so wide it was practically criminal.

“George?” Fred said, his voice laced with both shock and irritation.

“Don’t mind me,” George said, waving a hand. “Just here to check on my brilliant plan. Which, I must say, worked beautifully.”

Your stomach dropped. “Plan?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” George said, crossing his arms. “Who do you think left that box of chocolates on Fred’s bed in the first place?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “You knew about the love potion?”

“Of course I knew,” George said, looking offended. “I took them from your bag after you got distracted helping me brainstorm pranks. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to give you two a little push.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words failing you. “You—you tricked me?”

“I prefer ‘strategically intervened,’” George said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “And before you get too mad, just remember—it worked. You’re welcome.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, George, you’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably brilliant,” George corrected, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very smug letter to write to Mum about my matchmaking skills. Ta!”

With that, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving you and Fred standing in stunned silence.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Only George.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the last week finally lifting. “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Only after I thank him,” Fred said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Because, for once, his meddling actually worked out.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “It did.”

This time, when he kissed you, there was no tension, no uncertainty—just the kind of warmth that made you wonder how you’d ever lived without it.

#harry potter #fic #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #imagine #weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley fic #fluff

747 notes · View notes

moonselune · 7 months ago

Note

Could I request some wholesome headcanons of the men meeting their baby for the first time after Tav gives birth? I’m a sucker for babies in your content!

More babies content yess!!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The dim light of the morning sun filtered into the room, casting soft golden hues over the bed where you rested, utterly exhausted but overwhelmed with the bliss of the moment. Your body ached in ways you didn’t even know were possible, and every breath felt like a sigh of relief after the long labor. Beside you, swaddled in a blanket, was your newborn baby, sleeping peacefully after the chaos of their arrival into the world.

You hadn’t expected to be awake when Gale entered the room, but his soft footsteps and the quiet rustle of his robes stirred you. He had waited so patiently, just beyond the threshold, giving you the time you needed to rest. But now, as he crossed the room to you, there was an unmistakable excitement in his eyes, an eager anticipation that couldn’t be contained. The moment he saw you and the baby together, Gale’s face lit up with sheer joy.

"You did it," he breathed, voice full of awe. "You’re incredible. Truly, I've never seen such strength and beauty in all my life—no hero in any story could compare to what you’ve done today!"

His words poured out in a rush, and you could see the way his hands trembled with barely contained excitement. He knelt beside the bed, his eyes shimmering with emotion as he gazed at you, then at the baby. "The most remarkable thing I’ve ever witnessed! You brought life into this world, my love. You’re an absolute marvel—no, more than that. You're—"

You raised a hand, placing it gently on his arm, a tired but fond smile playing on your lips.

"Gale," you interrupted softly, your voice filled with affection but laced with exhaustion. "Thank you, but… please… can you just hold the baby? And maybe just a be a tad quieter, my love."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your request. "Ah, of course," he said, his voice faltering for just a moment. But then, with that same boyish enthusiasm that made you fall for him in the first place, he beamed at you. "Of course! I’m sorry, I’m just… overwhelmed, darling."

Carefully, with a reverence that spoke volumes of his love and care, Gale leaned down and lifted the tiny bundle into his arms. His movements were delicate, as though holding the baby was the most important spell he had ever cast. The look of pure wonder on his face as he cradled your child for the first time made your heart swell.

As the baby shifted slightly in his arms, Gale’s eyes widened with joy.

"Oh, my little one," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness, but he began to get louder and louder the more enthralled with the baby he became. "Look at you—perfect in every way. Already a miracle, just like your mother."

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, exhaustion still pulling at your limbs, but the sight of Gale with the baby was enough to lift your spirits.

"Gale, you’re doing it again," you teased gently. "Just… enjoy the moment."

He blushed faintly, realizing how carried away he had gotten. "Right," he said, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Quiet. Yes, of course."

But even as he settled into the quiet, you could see the emotions bubbling up in him, his eyes shining as he gazed down at the baby in his arms. And, in true Gale fashion, he simply couldn’t resist the urge to speak again, though this time it was a soft, almost reverent whisper.

"You are such a wonder," he murmured to the baby, his voice barely audible. "Such a gift. I promise I’ll do everything I can to give you the best life, little one. You’ve already made mine infinitely brighter."

You watched with a smile as he continued to quietly shower the baby with praise, his gentle words filled with awe and love. The sight of him, so full of emotion, yet finally quiet and tender, made your heart swell with warmth. Despite everything, despite his usual tendency to ramble and fill the air with words, in this moment, he was perfect.

"You know," you said softly, your voice laced with amusement, "I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you."

Gale glanced up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he whispered, leaning closer to you with the baby nestled securely in his arms, "you did ask me to be quiet. But I’m afraid I can’t help it. You and this little one—you’re both my greatest accomplishments."

You chuckled tiredly, leaning your head back against the pillow as you gazed at him and your child. "You’re impossible."

"And you," he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, "are everything."

With your baby safe in his arms and Gale’s quiet whispers filling the room, you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you. For the first time in what felt like hours, you let your eyes close, the sound of Gale’s soft, loving words lulling you into a peaceful rest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The soft glow of the candlelight cast a gentle warmth across the room as you rested in bed, utterly exhausted but blissfully content. The labor had been long and difficult, but now your baby, your child, lay swaddled in a soft blanket, sleeping peacefully beside you. Every muscle in your body ached, and your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—love, joy, and exhaustion mingled together.

But there was one more thing you needed to happen, one more piece of this moment that would make it complete. You glanced at Astarion, who stood a few steps away, his eyes fixed on the baby with a look you hadn’t seen before—hesitation. His usual confidence, his sly, charming demeanor, had melted away entirely, replaced by something raw and uncertain.

He was standing there like he was staring at some delicate, untouchable treasure, unsure of how to proceed. His hands twitched at his sides, as though he wanted to reach out but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. You sighed softly, though there was a smile tugging at your lips.

“Astarion,” you said, your voice a little weak but firm nonetheless. “I just spent hours bringing this baby into the world. I think you can handle holding them for a few minutes.”

Astarion blinked, his gaze snapping to you as if he’d been caught in some sort of reverie.

“Oh, darling,” he began, his usual velvet tone laced with uncertainty, “I’m not so sure about that. I mean… what if I drop them? Or—gods forbid—what if they cry? Or worse, what if they don’t like me?” His voice was unusually soft, tinged with a vulnerability you rarely saw from him. You raised an eyebrow, half amused and half exasperated.

“In the nicest possible way my love, get a grip,” you said, though your tone was gentle, knowing how much this moment was overwhelming him. “I promise you, they won’t break if you hold them. And after everything we’ve been through together, I doubt our child is going to be scared of you.”

He hesitated for a moment longer, glancing back at the tiny bundle resting peacefully beside you.

The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at your heart, but you weren’t going to let him stay trapped in his fear. You reached out with your hand, gesturing toward the baby. “Come on, Astarion. I know you’re not afraid of something this small.”

Astarion took a slow breath, then gave you a weak smile. “You make a compelling argument, my love. Very well, if I must.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but the nervousness in his eyes remained.

He approached slowly, like a predator stalking something fragile and precious, his usual grace turning into something cautious. With careful, almost exaggerated precision, he knelt beside the bed and reached out. His hands hovered above the baby for a moment, and you could see the hesitation still lingering in the way his fingers trembled slightly.

But finally, with a steadying breath, he slid his hands beneath the baby, lifting them up into his arms. The moment the tiny weight settled against him, Astarion froze. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared down at the small, sleeping face nestled against his chest. The baby’s tiny fingers twitched, and Astarion’s expression softened in a way you had never seen before.

You watched as something shifted in him—his fear giving way to awe. The tension in his shoulders melted, and he cradled the baby closer, his arms instinctively wrapping around them with surprising tenderness.

“Well,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I think they’re still in one piece.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I told you they wouldn’t break.”

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

“They’re so small,” he murmured, his usual bravado stripped away completely. “So… perfect.” He glanced back down at the baby, his thumb gently brushing over their tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly at his touch, their little fingers curling around his thumb, and Astarion’s breath caught in his throat.

For a long moment, he just stared down at the baby, his gaze filled with wonder and disbelief.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate peace of the moment. “Most of them… not good. But this…” He shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. “This is something I never thought I’d have.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him.

“You deserve this,” you said softly. “We both do.”

Astarion’s eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, his gaze was full of something vulnerable, something raw.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “For this. For them. For… everything.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm, feeling the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. Astarion let out a soft laugh, though it was tinged with emotion.

“I suppose I’ll have to be, won’t I? Not much choice in the matter now.” But there was no regret in his voice, only a quiet determination. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You’ve got a lot ahead of you, little one,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t worry. Your mother and I will be here, every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his gaze filled with a quiet intensity.

“Together,” he said, his voice steady now, full of resolve. “We’ll do this together.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll stood at the entrance of your room, a rare hesitation in his posture. He’d fought monsters, faced devils, and had become the Blade of Frontiers, a hero in his own right. But this moment, seeing his child for the first time, had him more nervous than he ever remembered feeling.

He glanced at you, resting on the bed, looking exhausted but radiant, and his heart clenched with overwhelming love. He had witnessed your strength through countless battles, but what you had just endured was something far beyond his understanding. You had brought a new life into the world—his child, your child—and now, it was waiting to meet him for the first time.

The midwife nodded, encouraging him forward, and Wyll took a deep breath before stepping inside. The tiny bundle in her arms was swaddled tightly in a soft blanket, a small, wriggling thing with a mop of dark hair, just like his. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him as he reached out with trembling hands.

"Go on," you murmured with a tired smile, your voice gentle and reassuring, though you could see the nervousness in his eyes. "Hold your child."

Wyll slowly took the baby into his arms, careful and deliberate, as if he were handling the most fragile treasure in the world. The weight of the tiny body settled against him, and his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, everything else disappeared—the world, the dangers, the chaos. There was only this.

The baby stirred in his arms, letting out a soft, sleepy sound, and Wyll’s heart melted. He looked down into the face of his child, his eyes wide with wonder, and time seemed to stop. He had imagined this moment, dreamed of it even, but nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming wave of emotion that crashed over him.

"Hello, little one," Wyll whispered, his voice thick with awe. His thumb gently brushed over the baby’s tiny hand, and the baby’s fingers instinctively curled around it. That small gesture made his eyes burn with unshed tears, his chest tightening with a love so fierce it nearly took his breath away. He turned to look at you, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

“Look at them. Just… look at them.” His smile was wide, but there was a hint of disbelief behind it, as if he couldn’t fully grasp that this was real—that this tiny life was part of him, part of you both.

You smiled, your exhaustion temporarily forgotten as you watched Wyll cradle your child. The tenderness in his expression was something you had always loved about him. The way he cared so deeply, not just for you, but for everyone he fought for, everyone he protected. And now, that same fierce devotion was shining through as he held your baby, his baby, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

Wyll’s gaze returned to the baby, and he chuckled softly, though his voice trembled.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against the baby’s. “So perfect.” His words were barely more than a breath, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at the tiny face in his arms, his heart full to bursting. The baby squirmed slightly, and Wyll adjusted his grip, instinctively swaying on his feet to soothe them. His touch was gentle, reverent, as though he couldn’t believe he was allowed to hold something so precious.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he be a good father? Would he be able to protect this child, to teach them, to give them the life they deserved? But as he looked down at the baby’s peaceful face, those worries seemed to fade. He didn’t know all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain: he would love this child with everything he had.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“You’ve got so much ahead of you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But don’t you worry. Your mother and I—we’ll be here every step of the way.”

He looked at you again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thank you,” he said, his voice trembling. “For this. For them. For everything.”

He shifted the baby slightly in his arms, cradling them closer to his chest as he sat down beside you. Together, you sat in peaceful silence, the weight of the moment settling over you both. Wyll’s heart was full, more than it had ever been, and as he looked down at the tiny life in his arms, he knew that this was only the beginning.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun, casting warm golden light across the floor as you lay in bed, utterly spent but at peace. The long hours of labor had taken everything from you, and yet, you felt a quiet, serene joy as you looked down at the tiny bundle nestled against your chest. Your baby, warm and sleeping soundly after the ordeal, made every ounce of effort worth it.

Halsin had been with you for every moment of the labor, never leaving your side, his strong, reassuring presence a constant comfort. He had been so calm, so focused, using all of his experience as a healer and midwife to guide you through the pain, offering soft words of encouragement, steady hands to hold. He’d seen countless births before, delivered more children than he could remember over the course of his long life. But now, standing near the bed, looking at you and the baby with a strange, hesitant expression on his face, he was a different man.

You caught his eye, seeing the quiet turmoil behind the tenderness in his gaze. He had helped you bring this child into the world, but now, as the reality of it all settled in, it seemed as though Halsin was uncertain. You could sense his hesitation, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from stepping closer. It was so unlike him to be unsure of anything, especially something as familiar as holding a baby.

“Halsin,” you called softly, your voice still hoarse from the effort. “Come here.”

His eyes flickered to yours, and there was something deep in his gaze—an emotion that he rarely let show. He approached, slowly, as though he were afraid of disturbing the peace of the moment. The air felt heavy with something unspoken, something more than just the awe of meeting his child for the first time. He had held thousands of newborns, but this… this was his.

When he finally reached you, he knelt beside the bed, his large hands resting gently on the mattress as he looked at you and the baby. His gaze was soft, full of love, but there was a trace of uncertainty, a vulnerability that made your heart ache for him.

“I’ve delivered so many babies in my time,” Halsin said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I have held them, cared for them, watched their mothers smile with pride… But this is different. This is ours.”

The depth of his words sank into you, and you reached out, placing your hand gently on his.

“Halsin,” you murmured, “you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on the tiny form cradled against you.

“I have. And yet, now that it’s here…” His voice wavered for a moment, something that almost never happened to the confident, wise druid. “I find myself unsure.”

You smiled softly, lifting the baby a little, motioning for him to take them. “You’ve done this a thousand times. But I understand—it’s different when it’s your own child.”

He hesitated again, his eyes searching yours for a long moment, before finally reaching out to gently take the baby into his arms. His touch was tender, far more careful than it needed to be for someone who had handled newborns for centuries. But as the baby settled into his arms, the look of awe and wonder on Halsin’s face was something you had never seen before. His whole demeanor shifted, as though the weight of this moment was finally settling in, and he was letting himself feel it fully.

The baby stirred slightly, tiny fists curling and uncurling as they nestled against Halsin’s chest. He breathed out slowly, a deep, shuddering breath, as though the enormity of the moment was finally catching up with him.

“They’re so small,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder. “So… perfect.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you saw the gentle giant of a man cradling the baby with such care, such reverence. There was no one else in the world you trusted more in this moment, and seeing the tenderness in his eyes only made you love him more.

“They are,” you agreed softly. “And they have your nose.”

Halsin’s lips twitched into a soft smile, though his gaze never left the baby’s face.

“I suppose they do,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet joy. “A piece of me, and a piece of you… a perfect balance.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the gentle breathing of the baby in Halsin’s arms. You watched him, watched the way his heart seemed to melt with every tiny movement, every small breath.

Halsin leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss across the baby’s forehead, his expression full of love and reverence.

“I never imagined this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “To have something so precious, so full of life, to protect and nurture.”

“You’ll be an amazing father,” you assured him, reaching out to gently brush your fingers against his cheek. “You already are.”

He turned his gaze to you then, and the look in his eyes nearly stole your breath away. There was so much love there, so much gratitude and wonder.

“And you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, “are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. What you’ve done today… you’ve given me a gift I can never repay.”

You smiled softly, your heart full. “You don’t need to repay me, Halsin. We did this together.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with awe as he looked down at the baby again. “Together,” he repeated quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The room was dimly lit by the early evening light filtering through the curtains. You lay back in bed, exhausted but content, a quiet joy filling your heart after the long hours of labor. The midwives had just left, and now it was just you, Rolan, and the little bundle swaddled in blankets beside you. Rolan had been pacing for the last few minutes, wringing his hands in that nervous way he did when he was overwhelmed, clearly on the edge of his emotions. You watched him, feeling the anticipation radiating from him, and a soft smile tugged at your lips.

"Rolan," you called gently, your voice tired but warm.

He stopped his pacing and turned to you, his eyes wide, as if he had been waiting for some sort of permission. You knew him well enough to understand what was holding him back—this was new, different, a moment he had been dreaming of but was terrified to actually embrace. He was usually so confident, especially with his magic and his sharp tongue, but here, in the presence of his own child, that facade of arrogance had melted away.

"Come," you said softly, motioning to the baby. "It's your turn."

His eyes flickered from you to the tiny figure nestled in the blankets, and you saw a spark of wonder light up in his gaze. Slowly, as if in a trance, he approached the bedside, his breath coming in shallow, quiet huffs. He stood there for a moment, just looking, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. "What if… What if I—"

"You won't drop them," you assured him with a small smile. "Just hold them like this," you added, gently guiding his hands to support the baby.

Rolan swallowed hard, nodding as he gingerly slid his hands under the baby. As soon as he lifted the tiny bundle into his arms, the world seemed to shift. He held them as if they were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, cradling them close to his chest. The look on his face was one of pure awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was holding was real.

"They're… perfect," Rolan whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he gazed down at the baby. His fingers lightly brushed the baby's cheek, and a breathless laugh escaped him when the baby’s tiny hand instinctively curled around one of his fingers. "By the gods, look at them."

The way he said it, with such reverence, such pure admiration, made your heart swell. You had never seen Rolan like this before—completely vulnerable, overwhelmed with emotion, his usually sharp, guarded demeanor utterly gone. His gaze never left the baby's face, his expression full of wonder and disbelief.

"They're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "How… How did we do this? How can something so… perfect come from us?"

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched him, the love and awe in his face making your chest tighten. "It feels unreal, doesn't it?"

Rolan nodded slowly, still staring at the baby with wide, glistening eyes.

"I—I don't even know what to say," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I could feel this… this way. I never knew…" He trailed off, shaking his head as if words had failed him completely.

The baby stirred slightly in his arms, their tiny face scrunching up for a brief moment before relaxing again, and Rolan's breath hitched. He looked down at the baby as if they were the most precious thing in the world—because, to him, they were. His shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a shaky breath, his gaze softening even further.

"They're so small," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "So fragile. I don't know how to… how to be enough for them."

"You'll be more than enough," you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. "Look at you, Rolan. You're already in love with them."

He glanced at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and he gave you a small, shaky smile.

"How could I not be?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "They're… gods, they're perfect."

For a moment, he just stood there, holding the baby close, his expression one of pure, unfiltered love. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, and it was just him and the baby, wrapped in a quiet, sacred moment of connection. You could see the way his entire being had softened, the way he was completely, utterly captivated by the tiny life in his arms.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The room was filled with the flickering warmth of the hearthfire, casting long shadows across the walls. You lay in bed, utterly exhausted after the long hours of labor but relieved, heart swelling with joy. A small, fragile bundle rested in your arms—a new life, the child you and Raphael had brought into this world.

Raphael stood near the foot of the bed, his crimson eyes glowing brighter than usual, a mix of wonder, pride, and something else—a fierceness, as if this was a moment he had been anticipating for centuries. His typical, devilish arrogance seemed softened, his sharp grin tempered by genuine emotion.

"My love," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet but tinged with an awe you rarely heard. "You have done it. You have given me an heir—our child."

You could see the pride swelling in him, his chest puffing out as if he were ready to declare this triumph to the entirety of the Nine Hells. He approached the bedside with an intensity in his step, eyes fixed on the newborn. His hands, for once devoid of their usual grandeur, reached out to gently touch the tiny head wrapped in swaddling cloths.

For a moment, his gaze softened even further, lips parting as if to say something tender, but instead, the devil in him couldn't help but emerge. He straightened up, lifting his chin with a certain dramatic flair.

"An heir to rule the Hells, to carry forth my legacy," he whispered with reverence, his eyes now alight with a wicked gleam.

He reached down, gently but firmly, and scooped the baby up into his arms.

"Look, little one!" he declared, turning towards the open window that faced a tear in reality—the distant, shimmering view of Avernus, the first layer of Hell. "All of this will one day be yours. The Hells will tremble beneath your feet, just as they have mine."

With surprising ease, Raphael lifted the newborn up, holding them toward the portal to Hell as if presenting his child to the infernal realm itself.

His pride was palpable, his voice thick with grandeur and excitement. "You will be the most feared and respected, a ruler, a—"

"Raphael!" you snapped, sitting up in bed, alarmed. "Stop lifting the baby like that!"

Your sharp voice broke through his grandiose moment. He immediately froze, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of holding a newborn up in such a manner, he lowered the baby back down, cradling them properly against his chest. The fierce glow in his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the slightest flush of embarrassment creep across his sharp features.

"My apologies," he murmured, glancing at you sheepishly, though his smile was still laced with pride. "I—" He cleared his throat, chuckling softly. "I was simply… enthralled by the moment. They are just… perfect."

Raphael looked down at the tiny face of his child, his usually cocky and collected demeanor cracking, revealing the depth of his emotions. His thumb gently stroked the baby’s cheek, his gaze fixed on them as if nothing else in the world mattered. For all the pride and theatrics, there was no denying the raw tenderness in his eyes now.

"You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible," he said quietly, his voice losing its usual boastfulness. "This child—our child—has made me proud in ways I cannot even begin to describe."

He stepped closer to the bed, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you, still cradling the baby in his arms as though they were the most precious thing in existence. "And you, my love… You’ve given me everything. I shall never forget this."

You smiled, despite the earlier scare, your heart warmed by his devotion, his love. Even now, in this quiet moment, Raphael was both the devil you knew and something far more vulnerable—a father. His fingers, so accustomed to weaving magic and signing infernal pacts, were now tender, holding his newborn as if they were made of glass.

"You don’t need to show them Hell just yet," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, still tired but comforted by Raphael’s presence.

Raphael chuckled, his sharp grin returning as he gently rocked the baby in his arms.

"Perhaps not," he conceded with a glint in his eye. "But one day, they will know it—just as they will know the heights of power they were born for. But for now… they shall only know peace. And love."

His voice softened as he gazed down at your child, his earlier bombastic nature ebbing away as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. He held them close, marveling at the tiny life nestled in his arms.

"So small," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "And yet, they will shape the fate of realms."

For a long while, Raphael stayed like that, his eyes never leaving the baby, his body unusually still, completely captivated. You watched him, seeing the pride and love interwoven with his usual ambition. And in that moment, you realized that, for all his grand schemes and devilish desires, this was the most important thing in the world to him—your family, your child.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The restraint I had to have to not put in the 'everything the light touches is our kingdom' line from lion king in Raphael's bit ahaha. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

695 notes · View notes

the-secret-keeper · 7 months ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland Dorm Leaders ( - Kalim and Vil) X Reader

Not requested, just inspired. I was thinking about the diet that Vil put the characters on at the VDC/SDC, and I was wondering what it would be like if the reader couldn't eat what Vil had directed them to eat, so they go to the other dorm leaders to beg for food. Maybe because of an allergy, maybe because of a sensory issue, or a different health issue, it's not specified.

This could be read as Platonic or Romantic. GN Reader

Malleus' scenario is when you invite him to the VDC/SDC but with a little more added on to fit the scenario.

TWs: Mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of not eating, and mentions of tampering with food.

Minor angst

You were so hungry. You had already tried hiding food from Vil, and not even anything that was unhealthy, just something that wasn't within his diet regulations. But he had found it, and you had gotten scolded. You wanted to eat with everyone else, but you just couldn't, and it seemed like Vil hadn't noticed. Some of the others had, but for your own sake hadn't questioned it, not wanting to make you talk about it if you were uncomfortable.

You had nowhere else to turn, so you turned to them. As embarrassed as you were, you put your pride to the side in an attempt to get some scraps of food.

Riddle Rosehearts

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, incredulously. "You want food?"

"Not much! I swear!" You quickly defended. "Even just a small portion, I promise, I'm not trying to eat you out of house and home. I just," You sighed, tired and out of energy, "I can't eat."

"You can't?"

"What Vil is making me try to eat, I can't eat it. And I am starving, Riddle." You begged him. "I will do anything, for just a little bit of food. I'll clean, I'll help cook it, I'll help Ace and Deuce study, I'll do chores for however long you want. Just, please, Riddle."

In an act of desperation, you got down on your knees in front of his desk where he had previously been doing homework. You clasped your hands together, your last shred of dignity flying out the window as tears pricked your eyes.

Here you were, literally begging on your knees in front of your friend for food. You felt guilty, but you also knew that you could trust Riddle. And it's not as if you were just asking for food and leaving, you were offering a trade for the food.

"I am literally begging you. Please, Riddle." He got up and rounded the desk.

"Get up, you don't need to beg." He gently scolded, helping you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you some food from the kitchen. We can't give you enough food for the rest of the week, but we can at least offer you a meal for now, and invite you to dinner at least a few more times this week."

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Riddle. You're a life saver." You beamed, wiping away a few of the tears that had trailed down from your eyes. You would hug him, but he's not really used to physical affection, and didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"This is just doing the bare minimum. You're my friend, and if the person who is supposed to be taking care of you isn't, then I shall help you in any way you can." He nodded to his own words.

"You really are the best." You smiled at him, and he turned a little red.

"Come on. Let's go talk to Trey about getting you something to eat." He led you out of his office, and towards the kitchen.

Leona Kingscholar

"Shishishi." Ruggie laughed as he left you at Leona's door. "Good luck."

You probably would've gotten better results if you had asked Ruggie out right, and you acknowledge this as you stand in front of Leona's bedroom door. But, you decided to be vague, only stating that you needed a favor from Leona, rather than being up front. But you've made your bed, now you must lie in it. You mustered up the little courage you had, tossing your pride out, and knocked on Leona's door.

There was no response, which wasn't really unusual. You'd gotten closer with Leona lately, but it was still pretty normal for you to find him sleeping at all hours of the day, or for him to doze off while you were with him. You entered anyway, deciding to just rip of the bandage before you lost your nerve.

"Leona." You called once the door was closed behind you. "I need to talk with you."

"Whaddya want herbivore?" Leona asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I need a favor."

"Again? After the Octavinelle incident, I thought you'd never want to ask me anything ever again."

"Leona, please." You sighed, walking closer to his bed so he could see you.

"You look like shit." He commented.

"Leona." You scolded lightly, before shaking your head. "Look, it's not like I want to ask you a favor. But you're the only one I can sort of trust in this damn school that won't also get in trouble for helping me."

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor is this that you're worried your friends will get in trouble for helping you?"

"Vil has us on a really strict diet, and I can't eat any of it. But when I bought my own food and hid it from him, just so that I could eat and not bother him or anyone, he either tampered with it or threw it out. If I try again, I'll get in trouble, as will Ace, Deuce, and Grim if they help me. I would go to Jack, but he's still an underclassmen to Vil, so he might get in trouble too. But you're on the same level as him, so he can't scold you."

"As if he would try. What exactly are you asking of me?"

"Please, Leona, I need some food."

"Ha?"

"I'm not asking for a five course meal, just a little bit of food. Even just a small meal, or a bit of a portion of food from the meals your dorm eats. Please, Leona." He mulled it over for a few moments, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

"On one condition." He smirked, sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

"What?" You asked, apprehensive of what he may ask you to do. Target practice? Hours and hours of chess? Personal servant for an indefinite amount of time? What?

"Beg me. Beg me properly." You breathed a sigh of relief, happy that was all he wanted. It might be embarrassing, perhaps even a bit degrading, but at this point, you're desperate.

You sunk to your knees, looking Leona in the eyes. His eyes widened momentarily, in shock that you're actually willing to do what he asked. You clasped your hands together in front of you.

"I am begging you Leona. Please, help me." You begged. "I need your help, please."

"Alright, alright." He waved off your begging. "I'll tell Ruggie to make you something. And you can come and go whenever, and take food, just don't take too much."

"Thank you! This means so much, Leona." You thanked, shooting up from your position on the floor in front of him as he got up from his bed.

"Don't mention it." He sighed, walked towards the door. "I'm serious. Don't tell anyone about this." He glared.

"Never." You swore, crossing your heart with your pointer finger. He raised an eyebrow, confused at your action, but rolled his eyes.

"You coming or what?" You scrambled to quickly follow after him out of the room and towards the kitchen.

Azul Ashengrotto

"I'd like to make a deal." You had said to Jade, as he was the first one you saw upon entering the Mostro Lounge. He only smiled, that scary smile he always has on his face, and gestured for you to follow him, which you did.

He led you through the lounge, and to the back. Azul's office door was closed, as it usually was when you came to visit. You had grown quite close after the incident at Scarabia, and visited every now and then. But you hadn't been able to since Vil and the others had moved in.

Jade opened the door after knocking, telling Azul that he had a visitor. Azul looked up to see you, and smiled.

"What brings you here today?" He asked.

"They'd like to make a deal." Jade said cryptically before leaving. Azul looked at you, a little shocked, but it barely showed on his face.

"Is that true?" You nodded. "What can I do for you then?"

"I don't have much to offer in exchange for my request." You warned.

"I am aware. But I'm sure we can come up with something." His customer service persona was shining through, and it was almost impressive. "Now, what can I do for you?" You hesitated. "I have had my fair share of weird requests, rest assured, there's nothing to be embarrassed of." He tried to reassure you.

"Food." You weakly mumbled, almost pained by the request.

"I'm sorry, I fear I may have misheard you." He blinked, looking like a statue for a moment. "Did you say you wanted... food?"

"Yes.." You nodded.

"I apologize, I'm just a little confused. May I ask why you want food? I mean, don't you have food at your dorm? I know the budget is limited, but..." he trailed off.

"Vil, has put the entire team for the VDC/SDC on a very strict diet. And while I get what his intentions are, I can't eat the things he's trying to make me eat. I tried to buy my own food using the money I got from working shifts here, but he either threw it out or tampered with it. I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience, Azul, I'm just... I'm at my limit. I'm starving."

"He tampered with your food? How?"

"He hexed it." You told him. "It was just supposed to be to deter the others from eating it, since technically I don't need to be on the diet, but he did it to my private food stash too, so I fear he may be trying to make it so everyone has to eat the same thing. But like I said, I can't eat it. I can't. So, I'd like to make a deal. In exchange for some food, I'll work for free or something at the Mostro Lounge after the VDC/SDC." You tried to bargain.

"No, no, no, that simply won't do." He shook his head. "You already get an employee discount, but I'll comp your meals until the VDC/SDC is finished. Everyone should be allowed to eat." He told you. "Come in anytime, I'll inform the other employees that you are not to be charged."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, on one condition."

"What's the condition?"

"Come here when you have free time. Your company is nice, and it has been too long since we have spent time together." You smiled at him.

"It's a deal." You agreed. "Thank you, Azul. You're amazing! I mean it! This means everything to me!" You praised.

"Yes, I am. Feel free to spread the word about how generous I am." He laughed lightly. "Go outside and order something, then come back in here. You can do homework and eat as I work on contracts." You nodded, walking out to find Jade to order some food.

Idia Shroud

It was Ortho who had suggested it. He knew you and his brother were close, or at least closer than Idia was to the other students in this school. Ortho was concerned about your health, seeing it slowly decline as you weren't able to eat. He had practically dragged you to his brothers bedroom door out of concern for your health.

"Big Brother!" Ortho called. "Your friend is here, and they need your help." No response. You knocked rather loudly.

"Idia, I need to talk with you, please." You called out. A silence settled, and you were about to give up when the door opened.

"Come in." Idia said, allowing you into his dorm. He gestured for Ortho to come in to, but Ortho flew off before he could ask. "Ortho said you needed help."

"I hate to ask." You sighed.

"Well," he stammered, "you... you don't have to."

"I kinda do though." You acknowledged. "Idia, can I... can I have some food?"

"Food?" You shocked him out of his embarrassed state. "I'm sorry... food? Why do you want food? No, wait, that was a stupid question!" He panicked. "Of course you want food, everybody wants food, it's a necessity of life, even in games you need food," he began to rant, "I meant to ask why you want food from me, or, or, or, why you need to ask me for food?"

"Because," You interrupted his stammering, panicking, fast-speaking state, "because Vil has put everyone on a diet, and he's tampered with any food he's deemed to be outside of the diet. But I can't eat what he's asking me to eat. I just can't, Idia. But when I tried to buy my own food and hide it from him, he tampered with or threw that out too. I am really hungry Idia. And I hate to ask this of you, but can I please have some food?"

"Oh... OH of course. I'll order food for you right away."

"I can't, eat it at my dorm, Idia." You warned. "Vil will have a fit." He pulled up his phone.

"Then I'll just have to order it to be delivered to here, and you can eat it with me. Can't get in trouble with Vil if another dorm leader invited you to eat with them, right?" You blinked, slightly shocked at his cunning behavior.

"But... what if Vil gets angry at you?" You asked.

"That is a scary thought, he's rather.... intimidating." Idia acknowledged. "But, if he can't find me, he can't scold me, and he's never been to Ignihyde." Silence overtook you both for a moment, before you burst out laughing, beaming at Idia.

"Thank you, Idia!" You smiled. He chuckled a little as well.

Malleus Draconia

You didn't have to look long to find your friend Tsunotaro. He never seemed to be too far away when you needed him. Which was nice, in this case. You spotted him not too far away from Ramshackle, and managed to sneak past Vil's room just quiet enough to get out the door, and speed-walk towards your friend.

"Hi Hornton!" You greeted cheerfully, the envelope you'd been hoping to give him tucked safely in your pocket. He turned, and smiled softly at you.

"Greetings, child of man." He greeted, watching as you rushed up to him. "It's been some time. I trust all is well?" You waved your hand in a so-so motion.

"It's been better." You admitted. "But I'm doing ok right now!"

"I'm glad to hear it. It's good to see you in high spirits." He smiled.

"I had a question. Were you the one who sent the holiday greeting card?" You asked.

"Ah... that's right. I did give a card to Lilia to send. I never received a reply though." A bolt of guilt shot through you, even though you had no real way to respond or know if it was him or not. Especially given the fact that you needed to ask a favor of him. "You've surmised correctly. You really have no idea who I am, do you? Heh."

"I'd like to give you something in return for the card."

Maybe after you give him these tickets, you'll be even, and you'll be able to ask this favor without guilt. You are friends, right? He's your friend, so he might be willing to help you. You handed him the envelopes with the tickets in it. He carefully opened it, taking out the tickets to look at them.

"Are these... tickets to the show they're putting on at this year's culture fair?" He asked, almost shocked at the gift. "Are you actually inviting me?" He looked shell-shocked. You nodded enthusiastically, causing him to start laughing. "You truly have no fear at all." He smiled at you. "Very well. I shall accept your gracious invitation. Will you be in it?"

"No, I'm the team manager." You admitted. "But Vil and Kalim will be in it?" He should certainly know them, you thought, as they were dorm leaders.

"Oh, you're the team manager? Pity." He hummed. "But Schoenheit and Asim will be in it? Heh. That should be quite the spectacle. I'll look forward to the festival. Have a good night," He began to bade. You panicked.

"Wait!" You exclaimed, reaching forward and grabbing his arm, causing him to look at you with a little bit of shock. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell. And I feel guilty for even having to ask this of you after it took so long for me to respond to your holiday card." You admitted, sighing as you let him go.

"Ask what of me, child of man?"

"I told you that I'm the team manager. Vil had imposed a diet for the entire team, and unfortunately, that includes me. But I can't eat anything that he's making us eat. And I tried," your eyes pricked with tears, desperate for a solution you were hoping Hornton could provide, "I tried to just buy my own food and hide it from him, so I wouldn't bother anyone and I could still eat. But he found it, and he threw out most of it, and hexed what was left. And I'm just..." You tried not to sniffle, as a few tears escaped your eyes out of frustration at your situation and the fact that you're crying in front of your good friend, "I'm desperate at this point, Hornton. I'm starving. So, while I hate to ask this of you, and you absolutely do not have to do this, do you think I could maybe have some food?" You asked, getting quieter and quieter as you continued to speak.

"Schoenheit is not letting you eat?" He asked.

"It's not that he's not letting me eat, but he's not listening when I'm telling him I can't eat what he's trying to get me to eat." You explained.

"He... he hexed your food?" You nodded to his question, hearing thunder rumble from somewhere in the distance, despite the fact that it was winter. "Come, child of man," he held his hand out for you to take, "we shall feast tonight. And if Schoenheit has a problem with it, than he can talk to the dorm leader of Diasomnia about it." You nearly started crying out of relief. Bypassing his hand, you just slammed into him fully, hugging him tightly.

He must be quite good friends with his dorm leader, you found yourself thinking as he led you away from Ramshackle.

610 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago

Note

Hey Author! I love your BatFam work, and I was wondering if you could write something for the boys (especially Jason 🤤) reactions if the friend they had a crush on told them that their s/o had forgotten their birthday/anniversary/some other important day in their life?

Jason

Finds it insulting that your apparent ‘partner’ hasn’t spoiled you rotten, praise you for blessing their life with your love, time and affection, nor worshiped the ground you walked upon but instead forgot the most important day of your life and for what?

There was no excuse and Jason knew that if he were your man, he’d have everything planned months in advance for you, things such as a long winded letter that told you how much he adored you; followed by plenty of small gifts with deeper meanings for the pair of you scattered throughout the apartment.

However the grim reality was that he wasn’t your man, you were in the arms of someone who didn’t know what they have is someone who is one in a million.

He’d would try and attempt to write something sweet and heartwarming for you, all in hopes of replicating the very things he reads in books, and while he may not be good at it but he’s more then willing to try for you regardless.After all it was more effort than what your partner was putting in, claiming you weren’t worth the headache of planning for anymore.

Something so which that upon finding out, only proved to piss Jason off as to him that wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything at all and you certainly shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such..laziness. So while his best might not be good, but it sure as hell was a masterpiece in comparison of doing nothing for you like your asshole of a partner. He’d get you a plush that looked like him and tell you that it’s hiding a message, or a little gift that you might like, something for you to open when you were alone to read and or open the packaging.

If your partner was out for the night then Jason would have you come over to his place where he- with the help of Roy and dick- had decorated his apartment to celebrate you and everything that was you. You might find yourself wearing his hoodie for the night before having to take it off when you had to go home, but Jason would sneak it into your bag while you weren’t looking and when you eventually found it alongside a note telling you that once you were tried of that fool, come and find him.

You were left imagining a life where you had chosen Jason over your pathetic partner and how much more colourful life would be in comparison, but for now you’ll guess that it’s black and grey until you defied that enough was enough.

Bruce

Spends money on you, like serious money amounts of money on anything your heart desires because you deserve the most.

Sure it’s under an anonymous name but it doesn’t take long for one to figure out that it was from Bruce Wayne, for one the gift was expensive for even the most richest of families to afford so effortlessly, not without feeling the impact on their bank account.

Not Bruce Wayne however, never Bruce Wayne as even the most expensive gift in Gotham was an easy purchase for that man, and he’ll happily get if for you with the snap of his fingers, for anything you could ever want was as easy as breathing to come true for the billionaire.

He’d even personally come to your home and invite you to dinner over at his manor, only if you were interested of course he wasn’t going to pressure you.

‘But I’ve got nothing fancy to wear mr Wayne.’ You’d reply.

Bruce waves his hand. ‘Please call me Bruce, and there’s no need for fancy attire just whatever you feel comfortable in because you’d look charming regardless.’

You’d smile, this was the nicest compliment you’ve ever gotten, seeing as how your partner doesn’t even bother taking you out anymore, claiming you were costing them hard earned money and weren’t worth the headache. Something that Bruce disapproved of heavily, sighting that your partner was lazy, unappreciative and neglectful of you in every aspect of the word, and he wasn’t about to allow that to continue.

He was going to show you that you deserved more. That you should look for more from a partner -him- because you deserved someone who was more than willing to have you and isn’t afraid to show you off. *cough* him *cough*

Damian

Like father like son but Damian would gift you small trinkets that he knew you’d like, not because it was to spite your pathetic excuse of a negligent partner but because you deserved to be showered in such gifts.

You deserved to be treated more then how your current partner was treating you in general, and he’ll gladly show you such as he takes you out along with the dogs. Not only would he bring the dogs but he’d take you on a park date where you both painted on canvases, eat sweet treats and just have an overall good time together.

You know like a proper couple. Your partner should take notes.

Damian would tell you that you should break up with your partner, straight up, no mincing his words, he truly thinks that if one is unhappy on their relationship they should just leave and search for someone better. In this case your better partner was him, simple as that.

He wants you to wake up and realise that the better you’d wish to have was right in front of you, more than ready to lay down his life for you at any minor inconveniences should you ask him to. That and the dogs love you to death and didn’t like your partner neither as they’d growl at them to show their distain for the shitbag.

‘It’s Gotham, there is no better Damian, there’s just what you get and you have to live with it.’ You told him as you overlooked the city.

‘There is.’ Damian stated as he stared at you, the crappy city lights made you look angelic in his eyes and he’ll badly die on that no matter what. Then he glanced down at your hand, wanting nothing more than to hold it within his own, keeping it warm and safe in his like he should’ve from the start. ‘They…just weren’t fast enough to save you from that poor excuse for a partner.’ He adds with venom when referring to your partner.

You glanced over at him, searching him for a bluff but only finding the truth when his eyes remained on you, baring it all for you to read until you were satisfied. Damian wasn’t going to do anything until you make the first step and cut ties with your current partner and seek him out afterwards, so until then he’ll wait, he’ll always wait.

Dick

Takes you on an impromptu date…as friends of course…unless…👀

Dick thinks your partner is well….a dick for not wanting to spend time with you during your special day, but yet was more then willing to take your mind off of something negative and make something positive for you to focus on. Dick believed you shouldn’t have to be miserable and alone because someone else couldn’t be bothered to shower you in affection and appreciation.

He’ll gladly do so in their stead by locking arms with you, putting his hand on your lower back when in crowded areas, or just finding some way to keep hold of you however he could to prove that a love should go deeper then spoken words. Words to dick can only display feelings so far before you have to show it through other means and dick was the most affectionate when he was with you.

It was almost as though whenever he was within your presence, he felt the need to hold your hand, smile at you in a way that was special for the both of you, hold your face in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours while staring deeply into your eyes. Anything and everything he could think of dick found himself wanted to do with you and only you, and so if your partner wasn’t going to spend time with you, dick will and he will do it because he wants to be with you.

To Dick, being with you wasn’t a chore or an obligation to him, he wanted to be with you because he genuinely likes you and so much more.

Dick will bring Hayley because you loved her so much, and he will bring her often just to see you smile as you greeted the dog with open arms as she licked your face with affection. After all everyone loves dogs.

Dick would show you everything you’re missing out on and leaving you with the question; were you with the right person?

Tim

Finds it despicable that your partner couldn’t be arsed to spend time with you or get you gifts. He knows he can do a thousand times better than him. A thousand times better then him but I’d only he asked you out first before the rat of a person did, it’s a regret he holds within his heart and blames his hesitance for on many instances.

Tim would go so far as to find online shops and spend -on Bruce’s credit card no less because this man has those numbers memorised- on things that he remember you saying in passing that you liked but couldn’t afford unfortunately.

He’d have movie nights with you as you both shared his computer, eating pizza and your favourite sweets that he just so casually remembers, all the while just being over all comfortable with one another as sooner or later you’d rest your head again his shoulder.

Now this wouldn’t have looked like much, but when you had a crush on someone who was with someone who didn’t treat them like you did, Tim felt ask though he was within his one little dimension with you. He felt as though he was living the dream he was too afraid to make reality, he felt how right this was and how perfectly seamless this all was between the two of you; this was the dream he wanted to live with you in but until you break up with that prick, he couldn’t give you the life you so deserved in his eyes.

‘Thank you Tim.’ You said sleepily.

‘For what?’ He asks.

‘For everything, for remembering.’ You replied as you continued to watch the movie whereas Tim kept looking at you with a solemn look. You shouldn’t have to thank him for this, not at all because he’d gladly repeat this scenario countlessly for you if you so wanted.

‘No need to thank me,’ Tim told you, ‘I’m just doing what any other would’ve done for you.’ He adds awkwardly, still feeling the regret of not asking you out fast enough for his one liking as he offered you some sweets as the next movie played; ironically it was about a boy pining for someone who is in a shit relationship. Tim silently groaned as he was forced to watch what felt like his current situation play out before him, while you only snuggled up closer to him and casually saying.

‘This is one of my favourites.’

Tim knew even the devil would wince at his predicament, finding it enough torture for him as it was. He only hopes that you break up with the prick sooner rather the later before he says something stupid and by accident.

684 notes · View notes

natlovesls2 · 8 months ago

Text

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), gaslighting, sexism/ internalized misogyny, swearing, no use of y/n, some plot but not much, rushed, grammar mistakes, etc. Please remember that this is fiction, and in no way represents Lando as a person

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.7k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You love Lando but he does not feel the same, no matter how long you've waited (For the most part its just inspired Sitting, Waiting, Wishing from the In Between Dreams album, as the title of the fic says)

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You had always made it painfully clear to Lando that your feelings for him were anything but platonic. If the constant heart eyes weren't enough to prove it then the little gifts and compliments surely should have made it abundantly clear. Surely he wasn’t THAT oblivious, and he wasn’t. You had often heard him boasting to his friends about your everlasting and eager love for him. There was one such instance that you remembered quite well– he had asked you to be his date to some event, in which you had, of course, ended up alone. “Thanks for agreeing to be my date, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he had said as if it even mattered that you were there.

You watched Lando interact with some bitch he met at– long having forgotten about your presence. Sometimes it felt as if you were a stranger who was invading his space– uninvited and unwanted. She hadn’t wronged you in any way and, yet, you hated her. You hated her stupid face and her stupidly short dress that made her look like a cheap whore. It was obvious that it had to be the reason he was so enamored with her, she looked easy and Lando loved easy girls– and she was practically begging to be fucked. She wrapped her hand around Landos arm and you wished you would walk over to them and break her fucking arm.

He made it very clear that night that he would never love you, at least not in a romantic sense, he's made that perfectly clear. But no matter how many times he humiliates you, you will fight for his affection, always. Even if that affection comes in the form of lust and only ever is lust.

His constant disregard for your feelings led you to promise yourself that you wouldn’t find yourself in this position with Lando again. In fact, you had sworn that last time would be the final time you found yourself tangled in his bed sheets. Truthfully you had never been strong minded, always giving up on those fitness challenges and never finishing the long books you bought with the intent to feel smart and accomplished. But you were tired of being so destructive– of ruining yourself for someone who obviously didn't give a rats ass. Maybe that's why you were in his apartment, to end it all– at least that's what you were telling yourself. It was all rather pathetic: the look you gave him as he went on about whatever he‘d been going through before you had gotten there.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, bringing his hands to rest on either side of your hips, occasionally rubbing circles with his thumbs. You knew what he’d be doing if you weren’t there, fucking whatever bimbo threw herself at him. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “You’re awfully quiet– what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You could feel yourself begin to give into his intentions– you never were good at saying no to him. After all, your plan to avoid him and kick him out of your life altogether had lasted nearly two weeks… more like five days, but stretching the truth has never hurt anyone.

“Nothing,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair, slowly melting into his touch. You could resist the feeling his voice and touch brought upon you. You suppose that's why you’re here again, clothes slightly askew and hair a messy tangle. His hands eagerly explore the expanse of your body, lips impatiently marking down your neck. “I've missed this so much,” he raggedly whispers against your shoulder, rolling his hips against your own. His hands continue to wander, coming to rest at your clothed breasts, gently squeezing them.

You pull his head up, body leaning into his in a heated kiss– feeling the vibration of his moans against your lips. This wasn’t something you were particularly proud of, but it kept him close to you. It allowed him to show an ounce of affection towards you, even if that affection was pure and unfiltered lust. “Need you,” you whispered in between rushed kisses, trailing kisses down the side of his jaw.

“I know” he grunted, movements slowing as he brought his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, fingers ghosting over your underwear. Gently applying pressure to your clothed clit, stopping only to move your panties to the side, “God, baby, you’re already so wet.” He teasingly ran his finger up your slit and back down, only inserting the tip of his finger. Lando smirked down at you when you greedily attempted to shift your hips in hopes of getting some sort of relief. He kissed the expanse of your thighs, pulling your underwear down your legs and away. A few more kisses were placed on your thighs before he turned his attention to your pussy, teasingly licking and kissing the area.

“Please,” you let out a whine as he slowly inserted a finger into your needy and begging pussy. He chuckled at the strangled moan that left your mouth, pressing kisses down your body, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. He continued to work his finger in and out of your pussy, adding another after a while, getting you ready for what was to come.

“Take this off,” he mumbled against your cunt, impatiently pulling the hem of your shirt up exposing your stomach, urging you to pull it off the rest of the way. You pulled the shirt off, tossing it aside before doing the same with your bra.

Your thighs involuntarily close around his head as he curls his fingers, thrusting them a few more times before removing them. He smirked at you, watching as your chest rapidly rose and fell, pushing his face further between your thighs– lapping up your arousal. The slurping like noise coming from between your thighs, giving you a wave of embarrassment as you reached down to tug at his curls. He fucked his tongue in and out, occasionally pulling fully out to run it up to your clit– swirling the nub around. His fingers found their way inside you again as he noticed your brows furrow together, a sign you were getting closer to coming. He increased his speed as your back arched, whines becoming loud moans as you clench around his fingers.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he whispers, kissing up your body, wrapping his mouth around your left nipple, cupping and groping your other boob.

“Mm” you whine, reaching a hand down to massage at his bulge. You felt him smirk against your breast, letting it go with an audible pop.

“So impatient, so desperate for a good fucking, huh?”

You nod rapidly, pushing at his pants, watching as he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off along with his underwear. He smirks as you open your legs wider, wincing slightly as he strokes his almost painfully hard dick, lining it up to your entrance. Perhaps you should have cared a little more as he pushed in with a condom, but in the moment it felt good to be wanted.

A shuddered breath left you as he began to thrust, strong and steady, the faint sound of skin slapping against skin sounding in the room. “Feels so fucking good,” shakily said, wrapping your legs around Landos waist. Truly it felt as if your whole body had been lit on fire, you were burning with desire.

“I know it does, baby– shit,” he grunted, slamming his hips against your own at a fast pace, snaking his hand down to rub tight circles against your clit. You clenched around him, quickly reaching your second orgasm. He sped up, holding your hips down, the headboard slamming against the wall. With a deep groan Lando came, spilling inside of you, he pulled out laying down beside you.

“You don’t need me to drive you home do you?” he asked tiredly, voice a little shaky.

“No, I drove here.” You stood up collecting your clothes, slipping them on one article at a time. The embarrassment began to seep in, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, turning to face Lando who now sat at the edge of his bed, “I can’t do this anymore, Lando.”

“Do what?”

“God, you know what I mean!” you said exasperatedly, running a hand through your sweaty and unruly hair.

“I don’t, so why don't you enlighten me?” he said back, his tone shifting to something more harsh instead of the innocent tone he had been using.

“Us– this whole back and forth thing. I can’t– I just… I love you and you don’t love me. And I can’t continue to be the person you only use when you need them.”

“What?” he rose from his spot, glaring at you.

“God, don’t act like you haven’t noticed– I’ve made it pretty fucking obvious, Lando,” you raised your voice, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You haven't–” he started.

“Yeah, because sleeping with you isn't obvious enough. Just cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you expect of me, I thought you were okay with being friends– we’ve had this conversation before, you said it was fine,” he took a step closer to you, eyes glaring into your own. He was challenging you, like he always did, because he knew you always gave in. Always accepted whichever shitty excuse he gave. Always accepted the whole “I’m not ready for a relationship” spiel.

“Friends don’t fuck eachother, Lando.”

“Well we do, and if you can’t accept that we’ll never be more than friends then you can take your slutty ass out of here.” This was your breaking point. It hadnt been his abandonment at parties, or the way he bragged about how you let him fuck you to his friends, or the sheer lack of care for your emotional wellbeing. No, it was the way he had spat that word at you– slut. That's all you had been throughout the majority of your friendship. A hole that had been willing to be filled.

You started at him, mouth agape with disbelief, “You’re a fucking asshole. Oh my god, how did I not notice,” you let out a humorless laugh, shoving him out of the way. And as you walked out of his home, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You had a lot to learn and unlearn.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: this was my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it sucks or makes no sense. feedback is appreciated, but please be nice because I scare easily lol

554 notes · View notes

inaconstantstateofchange · 1 year ago

Text

binggeyuan modern!AU based on this prompt where shen yuan and luo binghe live in the same apartment building, but have never met each other. SY is more-or-less his regular shut-in self, and keeps very odd hours, which means that he happens to be wide awake the first time LBH gets back to the apartment building at 3 a.m. after some manner of illicit activity and realizes he doesn't have his fucking entrance key. LBH hits one apartment number after another into the intercom, fully prepared to dazzle his way into getting one of them to open the door for him, but the intercom is old, and people come and go from this building often enough that most people don't bother getting it set up, and he's having no luck.

finally, just as he's about to give up and bully his way onto mobei-jun or sha hualing's couch for the night, someone picks up. he doesn't even remember which specific apartment number it was, he was just entering them mechanically. immediately, LBH pulls on his smoothest affect (sure the intercom has no video, only shitty, garbled audio, but that's no reason to let the universe catch you slipping) and prepares to give the sob story performance of his life. before he can even get a single word out, however, there's a crackly, almost indiscernible "Open!" and he hears the click of the entrance door unlocking before the intercom call is ended. he stares at the intercom for a minute, somewhat wrong-footed, but then shakes himself out of it in time to catch the door before it locks again.

SY, for his part, was broken out of a binge-reading spiral by the intercom call, and fully did not realize how late it had gotten. he assumed he had ordered something that was arriving earlier than expected, and kept an ear out for a knock on his front door from the delivery person for a few minutes, but then got sucked back into the target of his current literary criticism.

the next time LBH gets locked out, he starts in the general number range he remembers striking on the last time, and pays closer attention to the numbers this time. he's curious if his little philanthropist will be so accommodating again. SY orders a lot of packages, okay! the one time he didn't pick up the intercom he had to wait an extra three days for his ultra-rare, limited edition merch, which he will not be going through again. this time, though, when the intercom picks up, LBH is prepared. he starts talking immediately, playing up his stress at being locked out, how sorry he is to be a bother, and how much he really, really appreciates it. SY fully blue screens at this unanticipated display of emotions, blurts something out about how it's not problem and of course he's happy to help out a neighbor in need, then hangs up (after unlocking the entrance, of course). it is perhaps fortunate that the intercom has no video, and thus he can not see the look on LBH's face.

LBH gets more and more consistent pushy with his calls, curious how far this little philanthropist will go for him. he knows his apartment number, of course, he could just knock and introduce himself, but he'd rather let him come to him. LBH starts interjecting little questions here and there, trying to glean any information about his mysterious benefactor. SY, meanwhile, is lighting a daily candle for this poor little bun somewhere in his building, who has truly the worst luck in the entire world! who ever heard of a gang of pickpockets stealing someone's keys not once, but twice in the same week!

LBH gets comfortable with the state of things — as ever, too comfortable. nothing good can last forever. one night, after a long and utterly shitty day, for the first time in ages, he loses his key for real. he's tried to avoid reaching out to SY at any time when he's not 100% in control of himself, but there's nothing for it. he punches in the numbers for the unit he knows by heart at this point, and when it picks up, he sighs tiredly, and waits for SY to speak first. after a moment of silence, the call drops, and the door remains locked. LBH is almost shaken entirely out of his malaise. not even a word? he puts SY's apartment number in again, but this time it doesn't even pick up. he stares at the intercom in unpleasant shock for a few minutes, then punches the wall next to it and leaves. he spends the night on mobei-jun's uncomfortably small couch, staring unseeing at the ceiling above him. at least the other man doesn't ask him any questions.

their easy rapport broken, SY starts to worry when he hasn't heard from his unfortunate little neighbor — maybe he's moved out? hopefully to a place with a more accommodating security system... after a full week, his worry ramps up even higher. he wants to believe his neighbor just found a system to keep track of his keys that works for him, but statistically, it seems unlikely. feeling like the most awkward, overstepping idiot on the planet, he scribbles off a few short notes, and sticks one by the the intercom, one by the mailboxes, and one in the laundry room. his neighbor will have to go at least one of those places, certainly?

to my keyless neighbor - hope you're well! i was worried- if you ever need me, you know where to reach me. you weren't a bother- - XX4

the next time LBH stops by the apartment (he's been avoiding it by couch-hopping as much as possible, to the great aggravation of his friends) he carefully avoids looking at the intercom. as such, it's actually sha hualing who spots the note first. (she bullied her way into an invite to make LBH actually go home.) she crows out a harsh laugh, snatching the note off the wall and holding it up dramatically, cackling about "rom-com shit". LBH isn't really paying attention, until he catches a glimpse of the apartment number at the bottom. eyes flashing, he snatches the note out of her hand, and reads it over once, and then again. after a moment, he turns to sha hualing, and tells her to go home, that he's got plans, actually. she gapes at him for a moment, then scoffs and turns on her heel, flipping him off as she goes. whatever! she didn't want to babysit his mopey ass any longer anyway!

LBH spends a few frozen moments running over his options, torn between calling right now just to see if his philanthropist will pick up this time, and giving himself a chance to freshen up, and maybe make a good enough showing for himself that whatever it was that caused him to be ignored before will never happen again. ultimately, he decides on the latter, but rushes through all his preparations as much as he can while maintaining sufficient attention to detail. he wishes he had the materials to make something truly spectacular, but his apartment is showing his absence over the past week. he settles on a meal that just barely feels sufficient, and finds himself more anxious than he can remember being in years at this point, staring at his philanthropist's apartment door, two levels below his.

he raises his fist to knock, tentatively at first, too quiet to hear, and then once more, louder. a muffled voice comes through the door, and a few moments later, it cracks open to reveal a man just a bit shorter than him, with a rumpled shirt that looks like it has just been haphazardly thrown on and hair that might not have been brushed in days. he's... really cute.

LBH and SY just kind of stare at each other, frozen, for a bit, until LBH proffers the food he's brought, and SY's archaic etiquette subroutines kick in, and he invites LBH in before he can even think about. his immediate wince makes it clear he had not meant to do that, but LBH is not above making a situation work to his advantage, and graciously accepts, stepping into the somewhat cluttered apartment before SY can recover from his slip-up. they still have not exchanged names.

ultimately, they get themselves figured out. LBH introduces himself, and SY follows suit. there's a beat of silence as they both realize that this does not actually clear up anything about how they know each other. LBH finds the words to explain his own part in this are slow to come, so he finally just hands the note, neatly folded, to SY. SY's face colors, but he overcomes it to fussily poke at LBH about how worried he was, when the other just disappeared! LBH stops for a second, hearing that, then slowly responds that it was SY who cut him off first. SY gapes at him, then demands to know when he did a thing like that! he set his intercom call sound to caramelldansen and max volume so he'd be sure not to miss it!

LBH gives him the date, and SY flushes again, then looks away, muttering something unflattering about a "qingge". LBH feels a wash of jealousy, that he's misread the situation and SY is already spoken for, but SY goes on to explain that he had been stuck overnight at the hospital - for nothing major! pretty routine actually! - and the friend that was staying with him must have picked up, then hung up when he couldn't figure out who was calling.

LBH sits back, somewhat at a loss. so it... wasn't because SY was tired of him? SY sputters, waving his hands about. absolutely not! he might be slightly forgetful, but binghe is clearly a wonderful young man and it's not like SY has much else going on in his life!

LBH determines to himself then and there that the only way to ensure such a thing does not happen again is to make sure that he is the one staying with SY the next time he's in the hospital.

#gods this got SO MUCH LONGER THAN I ANTICIPATED #anyway i like this prompt a lot it has a lot of flexibility #and yes lbh starts very bingge but then gets passively bingmei-ified #svsss #bingyuan #binggeyuan #shen yuan #luo binghe #luo bingge #svsss au #svsss fic #my writing #writing prompt

837 notes · View notes