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loving-barnes · 10 months ago

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LOGAN HOWLETT - 'HELL'

A/N: And here I am, still writing and I am here for it. I am actually trying a lot here.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: mentions of blood and torture

Summary: Y/N shares how she escaped 'hell'.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story includes mentions of abuse.

Words: 4300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter One

LOGAN HOWLETT - 'HELL'

Y/N was lying on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight rays. Her right hand was in the air as she tried to make the force come out in a ball-shaped form. She finally made some progress.

Charles helped her train in his office. He aimed to teach her to make a protective shield around another person. Two weeks in, she made some progress. But the goal was still far away. On the other hand, she did learn something new.

The ball-shaped forcefields were bewitching. Y/N could admire her power up close. It was a thin blue layer of radiant energy with a hint of silver sparkles. Beautiful. She hoped to get better and become useful. Now, she had the chance after all those years. It brought tears to her eyes for many reasons.

If only I could get you out.

The nightmares appeared every night. They changed, playing twisted games in her sleep. It was hard to close her eyes. Her past, her present, it all got mixed. They were suffocating her. And his face kept coming back to her.

“How’s it going with her training?” Hank asked the Professor. He was standing at the window, watching Y/N in the distance from the office.

Some of the teachers, the X-Men, were present, discussing the newest addition. The last one who entered the conversation was Logan, smoking his cigar. One look from the Professor, and he extinguished it against his palm. He gritted his teeth when he felt the burning sensation on his palm.

“She’s making progress,” said Charles with a smile. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

Storm walked to a window, watching the kids enjoy the sunny afternoon outside. And there, far away, she noticed Y/N practising her little forcefields. “Her ability is convenient, powerful. She would be great on missions.”

“That is the plan. I want Y/N to be able to protect other people, too. She can create the forcefield around herself and in smaller forms. It might take us more time before she reaches her goal,” said Charles.

“I don’t like her,” Scott confessed to them. “There’s something off about her.” Everyone’s eyes were on him.

“What, that she doesn’t want to let anyone in because she doesn’t trust easily?” Storm glared at her friend.

“She’s not telling us something.”

“Would you tell your life story to a group of strangers you know for two weeks?” Kitty added. “If there is something off about her, the Professor would tell us.”

Charles sighed and turned to his friends. “There is something I need you all to know.”

“He, there it is,” Scott grinned.

That single sentence got everyone’s attention. Charles wheeled into the middle of the room, eyes looking at every person present. Logan frowned. Storm was intrigued, and others kept their faces neutral.

“Years ago, when I had been searching for more mutants, I managed to find Y/N. At that time, she was a teen who happened to discover her mutation. The plan was to bring her here. I wanted to send Hank to get her.”

“Why didn’t you?” Logan asked.

The Professor sighed. “She kept slipping off.”

“What do you mean?” Jean asked, confused.

“When I wanted to find her location, she was nowhere to be found. Not as a mutant or a human,” Charles explained. “I thought she died. And then, months later, I stumbled upon her again. As I tried to reach her, she slipped again.”

“Oh, right,” Hank said. “I remember you thought there was something wrong with Cerebro.”

“The Cerebro was fine. Until this day, I have no idea how it kept happening.”

“So, she’s a telepath?” Bobby asked.

Charles shook his head. “There was a time when I believed she was. It would make perfect sense. Only strong telepaths can shut their minds. That would explain why I couldn’t reach her.”

“So, when you saw her the first time since Logan brought her, you knew who she was. You didn’t need to read her mind?” Storm chimed in. Her eyes kept staring at the Professor.

“That is true. However,” Charles turned to face Logan. “The fact that you found her was a mere coincidence. You two happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

He didn’t comment on it, only shook his head in disbelief. “Is that all, Charles? Or is there more to this story?” He suspected that the Professor wasn’t telling them the whole truth.

“This is all you need to know, now.”

Groans echoed around the office. That answer didn’t bring enough satisfaction. What was he not telling them? Logan was ready to push his buttons. He needed to know more. Everyone deserved the truth. With a sigh, he stood back. “Why so mysterious?”

“I will tell you more once I have more answers,” said Charles calmly. “For now, all we need to do is to help her train. She wants to be better. She suffered enough, and she wants to turn her life upside down.”

“She asked you not to read her mind,” Jean raised a brow.

“I don’t need to read her mind. We talk a lot when I teach her. I promised not to look in. When I met her, it all came screaming at me. All you need to know is I trust her.”

Scott scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “That’s it?”

The meeting ended shortly after that. Everyone dispersed around the school. Logan’s legs brought him outside, his eyes quickly finding the young woman far away, resting on the grass.

For the last two weeks, he didn’t talk to her much or see her for that matter. He observed from afar. Logan noticed how she started to open up to some of his friends. She tried to get to know each member of the school. Storm, Kitty and Rogue spent most of their time with her. With them, she was able to laugh freely and smile. Damn, that smile. He wanted to see it more.

He frowned. Why did he think that?

He saved her ass, and now she felt like a magnet. He tried to resist, but it was hard. Would it be that bad to know her more? He brought her here, where he promised she’d be safe. And from what he had learnt, Charles knew about her existence for a long time.

Sighing, he moved forward. He took out the cigar that he hadn’t finished and smoked on his way to her. His eyes lingered on her body, eyeing her from head to toe. Compared to their first unexpected meeting, she seemed relaxed and happy. The bruises were gone. Only faint scratch marks remained.

Her hand was still in the air, creating small forcefields. The need to talk to her got stronger. As if she were a water that would extinguish Logan’s thirst. Fuck, he wanted to know her more.

“Hey, kid. How’s the trainin’ going?” he asked when he was close enough for her to hear him.

Y/N turned her head to the side, eyes locking with his. “It’s fine, I guess,” she said with a fleeting smile. “I am trying to figure out how to make a forcefield around another person,” she explained.

“Any luck?” he leaned against the nearest tree. He held the cigar with his fingers.

“No,” she sat up. “I got better at creating it in the shape of a ball. It still does glitch. But it’s a step forward. If only I knew how to project it around another person.”

“It cannot be that hard,” he raised a brow. “It looks so easy.”

She laughed at that. “If only. It requires a lot of concentration and energy. I can protect a person if they are next to me. I can wrap us into the forcefield. That’s about it.”

A gentle smile appeared on Logan’s face. “Like you did when I took you out of that dive bar.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh yeah,” she nodded. “I forgot about that. It was wild. I remember fragments of that day. Shit, the last days before you brought me here are kind of hazy.” She stood up from the grass and wiped off her lower back and ass.

Logan’s eyes followed her every move. “Wanna walk with me?” the question was out before he could think about it. Even he was surprised he had asked that.

“Sure,” she nodded. “I wanted to explore the estate a little more.”

Side by side, they walked away from the school and the noise. The estate reminded her of a gigantic park filled with trees, surrounded by nature and peace. She noticed there were well-trodden pathways. The students must have walked around the place many times.

“How did you get to that bar anyway?” he had to ask.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I kept walking until my feet brought me there. All I knew was to get as far away as possible.”

He took a deep breath. “What happened to you?”

Y/N bit her lower lip and looked somewhere away. “Um,” she hesitated. Was it wise to share it already? “I escaped a lab. I was a guinea pig for five years,” she admitted.

“What?” It was hard to believe what she said. Why was he so surprised? He had his suspicion about this before.

“Yeah,” her eyes were focused on the ground, ashamed of the story. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill me. Five years to keep a mutant for an experiment is a long time. Before you ask, I have no idea how I managed to survive the torture and imprisonment for that long. Those years are a blur.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Sounds like a hell of a life.”

Y/N lifted her head, scanning Logan’s face. “The Professor didn’t say anything to you?” When he shook his head, she was impressed. “And here I thought you would already know about everything.”

“It’s your story to tell, Y/N. It’s up to you if you want to share it with us,” said Logan.

Out of nowhere, she started to giggle. Logan didn’t understand what was funny. “You know, you don’t seem that kind of a guy who does this a lot. But it’s nice.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. He took another drag of the cigar. And Y/N laughed a little more. “When did you discover your mutation?”

The smile disappeared. “I was around fifteen when it happened,” Y/N replied. “And it started a life full of misery and darkness.” One of her hands reached for a tree, mapping its texture with her fingertips. After all those years locked up in a lab, she never thought she would feel nature under her hands again.

Logan didn’t question further. He noticed it was a heavy topic for her. She wasn’t ready to give him the details. Somehow, Logan felt he was the only person, except Charles, who got information about her past.

“What is your mutation?” It was her turn to ask questions. She wanted to know more about Logan. Even though his rough exterior told the story of a withdrawn, grumpy man, he had the softest eyes. Were they green? They seemed like it.

They stopped walking. Logan turned to her and brought his hand to his chest. When he closed it, three metal blades slid out of his skin.

Y/N’s mouth opened. “Shit,” she cursed. “Does it hurt?”

“Every time. I’m used to it by now,” Logan said. “They are made of adamantium.”

“Adamantium?”

“One of the strongest metals on Earth.”

Her fingers reached to the claws. Logan’s eyes followed her moves. She wanted to touch them. Before she could, she put her hand away. “Sorry, it’s just fascinating.”

Logan’s heart skipped a beat. “Well, that’s a first,” he commented. “No one said anything like that before.”

“I’m sorry,” she took a step back. “I didn’t want to overstep. Never had much opportunity to admire other mutations.”

“It’s fine.” The claws retracted into his skin. Y/N’s eyes noticed the wounds instantly close and disappear. Her hands quickly reached for his hand, fingers caressing the spots where the lesions would be.

Logan couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. It’s been a while since he felt such a gentle touch on his skin. Her hands were soft and delicate. He cleared his throat. “I heal quickly. In a matter of seconds,” he explained before she could ask.

Her eyes lingered on his hand until she realised what she was doing. “Oh, sorry,” she let him go and hid her hands behind her back. “That was rude. I am so sorry.”

She made him feel things he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It made him flustered. “That’s okay, kid.”

The intense moment ended, and they moved forward. Y/N’s face was burning hot, embarrassed by what she did. Her mind focused on the trees and the pleasant weather around them. The air was warm even though it was autumn. The leaves were sparkling with a range of colours, coming from green to yellow. Some of them were red. It was her favourite season of the year.

“I’ve heard you save mutant children,” she changed the topic as they approached the school grounds.

“Charles finds them, and some of us would collect them,” he explained. “I was on a mission to get a child that needed our help. Unfortunately, it was a failure. The facility was a trap. I was glad I got out. Later that night, I stumbled upon you.”

Y/N pressed a hand against her chest. “What facility?”

“The one hidden in Salem,” he replied. “Why?”

Y/N felt as if her soul left her body. All colour drained from her face. “Oh god,” she brushed her fingers into her hair. “It’s my fault,” and then she hid her face in her palms.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he turned his body to her. “What are you sayin’ there, kid?”

It took her three deep breaths to look him in the eye. He wasn’t angry. It looked like he was concerned. “I was locked there, in the lab, for some time. I escaped a few days before we met.” Panic bubbled inside of her. “I know who you were looking for. I know the kid.”

That night, that moment, it all came rushing back. It was like a movie, reflecting in front of her eyes. She felt it all: the pain, the horror happening in front of her eyes. She knew the child. He helped her escape. And she couldn’t take him with her. His screams echoed inside her mind.

Logan gripped her shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He said her name for the first time. That did the trick, and she looked up, eyes meeting his. “There you go. Take a deep breath.” He could see she was listening.

“I have to tell you what happened,” she whispered. “You need to know. It’s my fault you went to a trap.”

Logan brought her inside the school. His hands rested on her shoulders as he walked with her through the hallway. When something happened, all the teachers would gather around immediately. Professor X would call them to his office.

He helped Y/N take a seat on an armchair. A bottle of water appeared in front of her. It was levitating in the air. It was Jean’s doing.

“What’s going on?” Hank was the last one coming inside, closing the door behind him. He had a white lab coat on him, and his glasses were on the tip of his nose.

“This better be good,” Scott scoffed. His hands were wrapped around Jean’s shoulders, holding her close.

“Stop being a dick, dude,” Remy scowled. “Keep your mind shut.”

Y/N glared at Scott. He was the only person who didn’t sit right with her. That’s why, most of the time, she would ignore him. Luckily, he was sweet to Jean.

She grabbed the floating water bottle and took a sip. “Logan told me about the failed mission,” Y/N started to talk. Her voice was low and timid. “He told me he went there to get out a child. He went to a facility that was in Salem - the same place where they held me.”

Charles tilted his head, listening carefully. His face remained neutral. No one could read what he thought.

“I know the kid,” she told them. “His whole body can stretch as he wishes.”

“Elasticity,” Hank stated.

“How did you escape?” Kitty’s voice interrupted the stream of Y/N’s thoughts.

“There were five of us locked in that lab. We were in cells designed to suppress our mutations. It made sure we wouldn’t harm anyone or try to escape. That changed when they brought in JJ.”

“JJ?” Logan questioned that name.

“Jerome Junior,” she explained. “For an eleven-year-old, he was cunning. Because he was the youngest, he had the most energy. The rest of us were barely holding on.

“Never underestimate a child. That’s the greatest advice I’ve learnt in there. I don’t know what happened or how he did it, but the doors to our cells opened. Somehow, he was able to get us out. That’s when hell on Earth started. To get out, we destroyed the place.”

Y/N could feel the smell of chemicals and fire around her. As if she was back there, trying to get out of prison.

The pain in her body was excruciating. After all those years of experiments and torture, she was almost free.

There were bodies on the floor - killed guards and scientists as well as two other mutants who shared the hell with her. They got them before she could put a forcefield out to protect them. So much blood was on her hands and face. When she looked down, there were red puddles. The smell was nauseating.

“Let’s go,” one of the mutants shouted. The man was bleeding from his thigh and arm.

“Where’s JJ?” Y/N asked, looking for the kid. She lost him during the fight. “I’m not leaving him here.”

“We don’t have time to get the kid. They’ll kill us if we don’t leave!”

She was turning around, trying to find a way to get to him. “I said I am not leaving!”

“Fuck this, I’m out,” said the mutant and fled the scene without anyone else.

Limping, Y/N ran out of the destroyed lab and walked through the hallways until she found a swarm of guards holding the child. Guns pressed against the boy’s head as they put a collar on his neck. It beeped once, and a tiny light turned green.

JJ’s eyes found Y/N standing on the other side of the room. He did one last thing before they packed him into a truck - he shook his head. It was a sign for her to leave. Her vision blurred as tears hit her eyes. The boy got them out, and she couldn’t save him.

“I tried to get him, save him, but they took him away,” her voice broke. She let the tears fall. “He was eleven, for fuck’s sake. He somehow got us out. I wanted to do the same thing for him, and I couldn’t.”

“How do you know it was him?” Jean asked.

Y/N thought back, trying to get to the point when she realised he opened the cells. “I remember him stretching his fingers. He must have found a trigger on the table that opened the doors.”

Ororo reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You did your best. You tried.”

“It’s not enough,” she shook her head. “Even now, I feel like a traitor.” The story was not over. “When I left the building, I wandered for a few days,” she continued. “I got some old clothes and hid everywhere - in the woods, old buildings. Without energy, I happened to injure myself more. I even took a fall before I found the dive bar. My body was in pain, my head a mess, and I don’t remember much when Logan got me out.”

Silence spread around them. They all let the information sink in.

“When I came to the facility,” Logan started to talk. The attention was on him. “Many soldiers were guarding the place like their own eyes. They were ready to kill anyone who approached the building. I managed to get in but never got far away,” said Logan. “The place was a mess. As if a bomb exploded inside.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Kitty spoke up. “Why would they keep the place highly secured if it got damaged and took the child away? Think about it. Maybe they’ll use it as a cover-up. No one would think that the lab was still active.”

“Kitty’s right,” said Bobby. “In the end, there are only two options. Either they did take him away, or he’s there, well hidden from the world.”

“They did it to evoke confusion,” Jean added to the conversation.

“Scott, Jean, try to find as much information as possible about the facility in Salem. We’ll be better prepared to take him out of there,” Charles gave instructions.

Y/N jumped on her feet, letting the water bottle drop on the floor. “I’ll go with you.” All eyes were back on her.”I have to get him out.”

“You need to train more,” said Scott strictly. His hands fell off Jean. “You’ve been here for what two weeks? Forget about it. You’re not going on this mission.”

“Mind your tone, Scotty,” Logan warned him with a snarl.

“She doesn’t know how to fight or use her ability. She’s a newbie, a trainee. I will not put anyone’s life in danger because of her,” he pushed himself from Jean and approached Y/N. “If we go to get the boy, she’s staying here. Period.”

Logan was close behind Y/N, ready to step in. But she stood her ground, not afraid of the Cyclops.

Jean reached for Scott’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Scott.”

Y/N approached Scott with one long step, glaring at him. “I survived a lot of things in my life. You don’t know what I am capable of, so don’t underestimate me, Cyclops. And don’t be a dick. I’ve never been rude to you, never did anything to you. So don’t raise your voice at me. I am not afraid of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged her. “You better start talking about your past life then. We know nothing about you.”

Her fists clenched hard until her knuckles were white. There was a lot of anger building inside of her. And it showed. The forcefield started to glitch around her.

“You can’t even control your power, Y/N,” Scott mocked her. “Look what you are doing.”

“Y/N, please, calm down,” said Charles calmly. “Same goes for you, Scott.”

She closed her eyes and took a step back, relaxing her posture. She knew better than to get riled up. When her blood pressure lowered, she looked at Scott again, shaking her head in disbelief. What a dick!

Turning on her heel, Y/N left the office without another word. Her walk was brisk, taking long steps to be outside as soon as possible. Of course, there would be a person who would make her freedom difficult.

I will get you out.

She wrapped her arms around herself and walked through the driveway to the estate’s main gate. She didn’t want to leave. She needed to walk and think.

Y/N wanted to get little JJ out of that hellhole before it was too late. Fear crawled through her back, tapping on her head. What if they kill him before they get there? He saved her life. He helped her escape. It’s her turn to return the favour and secure him a better life here in a school for mutants.

There was another thing that drove her to save the boy. But she didn’t want to open that door. After all those years, it was painful to think about it.

Fucking bitch! How could you?! Cries were echoing in her mind. Psycho! Murderer!

“Y/N,” she heard Logan’s voice behind her. That made her halt and sigh. “You okay?”

She pressed the bridge of her nose. “Yes,” she said.

“You are full of shit, ya know that?” he laughed. “Just admit that you are pissed.”

She spun around. Her eyes could kill. “I’ll get JJ with or without help. I don’t give a shit what you say. I will be the one who will get him out of that place.”

“I know,” Logan nodded, understanding. “I won’t be the one who’ll stop you. If I were you, I’d do the same thing. And I would punch Scott in the face.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “You have your way with words, Logan.”

“I was thinking about becoming a motivational speaker,” he shrugged and smiled at her when he made her laugh again. “Bobby was right. We only have two options, and we must prepare before we leave to get the kid. I was there. I saw how many guards were securing the facility. One or two people won’t do it. We need a strategy.”

“All I want is to help, get him out of there so he can have a better life than I ever had. I don’t want him to experience that much torture. I need…” she started to choke on words. “I need…” Tears escaped her eyes as she felt the pain inside her soul. Was this a panic attack? Her heart was beating fast. The world was crumbling down.

Logan was quick enough to close the distance. His hands found her shoulders. “We will get him out. You hear me, bub? I can’t tell you when. We must prepare for the mission and gather information. We won’t make it far without a strategy.”

She gripped his flannel shirt tightly, holding for dear life. “I worry he’ll be dead.”

He shook his head. “You said he was cunning. He’ll find a way to survive.” Without thinking, he pressed her body against his, holding her. “While we are planning, you’ll be training your power and how to fight.”

She closed her teary eyes. As much as the hug was unexpected, it was comforting. “Promise me I’ll go with you.”

Logan nodded twice. “I promise.”

#Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female mutant reader #A touch of hope #Marvel fanfiction #Wolverine fanfiction

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thisismeracing · 11 months ago

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Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second.

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?”

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare.

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!”

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.”

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around.

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all.

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?”

“Most recent ones or oldies?”

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her.

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it.

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!”

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it.

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants.

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression.

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion.

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel.

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone.

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips.

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

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keij0h · 5 months ago

Text

⌗ BAD IDEA, RIGHT? ┆ the8

After finding out about your cheating boyfriend, your pettiness leads you to ask another one of your exes for a favor. The ex in question: Minghao.

CAUTION : profanities. college au. ex!minghao. afab reader. a bit suggestive. cheating. (Minghao’s not involved with it.)

tap to listen !

No way. No fucking way.

Phone in hand, you stared intently at the pile of screenshots you just opened, trying your hardest to not pop a vessel and break every single thing near you as you stormed down the dorm halls.

It was a known rule to not leave your dorms once 10 pm strikes, yet that wasn’t refraining you from banging on a certain door, evidence right in your hand that apparently, your boyfriend has been sleeping around, and was stupid enough to post pictures of him doing it. So you figured that was worth being caught and suspended for, if it meant you could strangle him.

“it’s not as bad as you think, if you could just—“

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it.” you snarled, pushing past him as you stormed inside his dorm, barging his closet open, gathering a few of your clothes that you left in his dorm.

“Should’ve left you when that goddamn counselor told me to.” you muttered, shoving the pieces of clothing into a pile, simultaneously knocking a few of his things as you could hear his retorts from behind.

It wasn’t all the time that you felt rage like this. It just so happens that you managed to get so unlucky that your fate lands on a total douche, and you just refuse to muster up the fact that you endured a whole year with someone like him.

So when you finally slam his door closed, you’ve solemnly swear to not look back. But of course, you also weren’t leaving without a proper comeback.

And what better way to do that than to ask another person you’ve dated for assistance.

You had no idea what came to you that night, but you just found yourself back in the men’s dormitory, face to face with the “easiest” person you can reach out of everyone you’ve ever dated. Xu Minghao. At least, that’s what you thought.

“So, what do you say?” you hummed, still catching your breath with the amount of explaining you just said.

But even after all that, you were still met with that all too familiar, bitter: “No.”

The remaining hope you had on your face suddenly faltered, now replaced with a stoic glare. “I thought you said you’d be there for me even if we’re through? Huh? What happened to that?”

Minghao huffed, letting his shoulders slightly slump down as you recalled the same exact words he said two years ago when you broke up.

It was rather a weird way to remember, especially now that you’ve presented him your plan. The plan being simple: the same thing your (now ex) boyfriend did, make out, take pictures of it happening, and spread it around campus, then boom. Done.

“This is quite far from what I meant.” he pointed out, never breaking eye contact with your dejected state.

You could only click your tongue at this, not having a clue that this would be harder than you pictured it to be. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you meant? It’s not like you specified anything..”

For the record, he never did mentioned anything against something like this when he made the vow. But shit, it wasn’t like Minghao expected you to remember his words so easily, let alone recite it right in his face.

“Don’t even start acting like you don’t want this—“

“I really don’t.” he interferes, watching as the frown on your lips suddenly turns upwards as you tilt your head to the side.

“Oh, really?” you spurred, folding your arms to your chest. “Well, rumor has it..” you trail off, lowering your voice as you slightly lean towards him, enough to hear you mumble. “..you haven’t moved on from me.”

Truth be told, you weren’t so certain that it is a rumor, as you’ve only heard it from one of Minghao’s friends: who all still tend to tease him about you despite already calling it quits. Though he never seemed to have much of a response to it, which sucked to you.

He scoffs, rubbing a hand on his temple. “Did Jun tell you that?”

“Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“Then he’s full of shit.” he nods, smirking as he sees your expression shift back to a frown.

“Look, if you came here to just pester me and use my own words against me, then you’re free to go.” he shifts, pushing the door to close it on you, but failed as you slipped a foot right in the crack of it.

“Hate to say it, but this would’ve been so much easier if you would just agree.” you coo sarcastically, clasping both of your hands together. “You wouldn't even realize this ever happened, I swear.”

Minghao looks at you as you said that, this time, actually considering. It’s not like you want to make out with him, it’s just a petty little move to get back on your ex. Right? Whatever it was, it suddenly made him shiver.

With one final sigh, he spoke. “Three minutes. And that’s it. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you furiously nodded, letting yourself in before he could even do that himself.

Oh, boy.

“What are you even..” you sigh out loud. Not even a minute in, you were already having complications on making it seem.. real.

You were now situated on his lap, while he sat up with his back on the headboard. You tried your best to ignore the awkward tension, knowingly convinced yourself that it’ll all be worth it. It just had to be

As for Hao.. he just didn’t know where to put his hands.

“Can’t you make it more natural?” you scolded, grabbing a hold of both of his arms.

“Don’t expect me to be good at this, it’s been a while since I’ve touched you like this for fucks sake..” he argued, mumbling the last part as he looked down to his arms. All the while, your stomach churned at what he said, blinking away to stop yourself from thinking further.

“Just- just do it the way you normally did..” you sigh, now feeling his arms wrap around your figure, simultaneously feeling the tips of your ears heat up.

“This alright?” he muttered huskily, looking up at you. You heaved a breath, briefly staring right into him before nodding. “Mhm. It’s fine.”

The way his dorm room smelt, how warm he felt, it was all familiar, and you’d be caught dead if you said it didn’t calm you down. You struggled to reach for your phone beside you as you attempted to angle it down to a natural level. It was mostly focused on Minghao, while your face was a bit hidden, but enough to recognize who it was.

You cleared your throat, signaling that you should, well, start. You took a moment to observe him more, eyes gazing from his cheeks to his lips, until he pulled you out of your trance.

“Hey,” he called out. “Time’s ticking.”

Shit, right.

Your free hand found its way to the back of his neck, finally pressing your lips against his. You felt that certain shockwave as soon as you felt him kissing back, hand trailing through your cheek as you blindly snapped the pictures in your shaking hands.

“Hao, wait–”

You gasped into his mouth, Minghao purposely swatting your phone away, letting it fall somewhere on the bed.

You could feel your throat beating as he pulled you further to deepen the kiss, his plump lips moving so rhythmically with yours. You’ve missed this, more than you’ll ever admit. He’s always been such a skilled kisser, and you never understood that. All you knew was it felt too good, the sensation alone enough to drive you crazy.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his hand slip under your cotton shirt, gently caressing the soft skin of your back, accidentally letting out a hitched moan through the kiss, lighting a surge of pride on Minghao as his lips twitched into a smirk.

The three minutes you both agreed on was already over, yet he kept his grip firm, refusing to let go just yet.

Just as his hands reached the hem of your shirt, the loud tone of your phone going off filled your senses, making you abruptly pull away from Minghao, breathless as you got off his lap, hastily fumbling through his sheets in search of your phone.

A hint of panic suddenly washed over you, the contact name of your roommate right on the screen. You looked over your shoulder, catching a glance of Minghao’s slight weary state, not missing the subtle kiss marks you left all over his face as his lips parted, his eyes motioning you to go ahead.

Shaken a bit, you swiped the answer button, placing it right in your ear.

“Hey–”

“Where are you?? You never told me you were going out..” the alarmed tone on your roommate’s voice loomed over you, making you silently hiss.

“I, uh, I fell asleep..” you looked at the Minghao as you said that, causing another smirk from him, mocking your stupid excuse as you glared at him before turning away. “..in the library.”

“Oh, do you need me to get you there, or–

“No!” you exclaimed, sheepishly clearing your throat as you realized how forward it sounded. “Sorry, it's just that.. I'm already on my way back.”

Liar. Minghao thought, softly shaking his head in disbelief, biting back an amused smile.

A breath of relief left your lips as you ended the call, shoving your phone back in the pockets of your sweatpants.

“That wasn't three minutes, by the way.” you remarked plainly, standing up to pat down on your shirt, getting ready to leave.

“You didn't pull away either.” Minghao added in a matter-of-fact tone. All the while you rolled your eyes at him. God, him and his sly remarks, you kinda hoped that he got rid of that trait by now.

“Hey,” he suddenly called out before you could reach the door, cautiously making you look back. “Yeah?”

You watched as he faltered, somehow hesitant to just say it as you waited. With a sigh, he spoke up.

“Would it bother you if I said that Jun was telling the truth?” A slight reference to what you said earlier. The scary part was that he seemed a bit too serious, but anyway, you saw it coming from miles away.

You snorted, shaking your head simultaneously. “I never believed you anyway.”

Honestly, Minghao agrees that your presence can be infuriating at times. Though he can never say that he didn't miss it, and was willing to see more of it. That is, if you'd let him.

Considering that all of this was for some idiotic, and needless to say, petty comeback, you couldn't lie, you'd do it again.

“Goodnight, Hao. I'll see you.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you will.”

a/n : this took so long for what smh. also I'm obsessed with the Guts album rn, so hereee!

#— kira’s !#seventeen x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x reader #xu minghao #xu minghao x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt smut #the8 fluff

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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eyesxxyou · 1 year ago

Text

Backstage Show Pt.3

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.5k

synopsis. hobie invites you to hang with him and his band for your birthday. They have the birthday present planned for you

hobie lets his band have their way with you

🍒・．❕warnings. the sexual tension is palpable, lots of group teasing, group is just different versions of Hobie's concept art, voyeurism (sex in front of hobie), clothed sex, ass eating (f receiving), fingering, praise, three on one, kinda foursome, titty play, making out with multiple people, hobie has a bit of a god/ superiority complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr

backstage show pt.1 | backstage show pt.2

Hobie had you on a leash. Metaphorically of course but you'd be more than happy to make it physical if he so desired. From that first night, you were hooked, waiting on every beck and call, obsessed was too light of a word to describe it. Fanatic maybe, in dire need of therapy is another option because you'd let him do whatever he wanted to you and he knew it.

Hobie took advantage of it in minor ways, asking you if you might send him pictures knowing that you would without so much as a second thought. He could ruin your life with pictures like that in his possession, your fingers in your wet pussy just like he instructed, so down bad that your own self preservation for any future endeavors was thrown out the window. But he had proved that he at least cared somewhat for you reputation and not getting you fired from your job by hiding your face from the tabloids when the two of you were caught fucking in an alley.

You were madly in love. Any fan would be if they were regularly fucking the person they idolized, the parasocial feelings you had suddenly becoming actualized and recognized by the one on the receiving end of it.

Never once did you try to place a label on things and Hobie appreciated it, you could tell. So often people will want to rush into trying him down to something he never really agreed to. You never tried to call yourself his girlfriend or claim him as your boyfriend because you were just happy to have him in any way he would allow. Maybe that’s why he was so comfortable letting you stick around, because you knew your place and didn’t infringe on those boundaries.

You were thinking about the long game, really. Not just the momentary gratification.

Hobie texted you after nearly a week of radio silence. For a moment, you feared he might be done with you even after the two of you stayed up texting into the early mornings about music and life, and all sorts of things. You ran through your messages time and time again trying to decipher if he had given any signs that he was upset with you. None were apparent. You told yourself that he was just busy to soothe your nerves and when you received his text, he didn’t address his absence. However, he did address something else of import.

Happy birthday, luv. You wanna come over?

Something you had offhandedly mentioned, something as important as you birthday, he took the time to remember. Even when you, who was too busy worrying about him to even remember, didn't.

It was hardly even a question you had to consider. You had tossed on a nice outfit as quickly as possible, did your hair and makeup. You grabbed your bag and left the house for the subway while asking him for the address. So quickly you had forgotten about him ignoring your text because you knew that in some way he was thinking about you and you were just lucky to even be acknowledged by him.

That’s how you got here, at this little building that was rundown but cozy, just how you liked it. The entrance was round the side and the door was left unlocked for you. You pulled open the rusting metal door gate before walking inside. You could hear the music from upstairs as well as the laughter emanating from the men and followed it up to their studio.

“There she is." Hobie's lead guitarist, Mace motioned to you as you entered the room. “Told ya she’s the punctual type.” He nudged Hobie who sat beside him with a joint. Their studio was a dim place, layered in a perpetual haze of smoke only illuminated by a red LED light in the corner. There were posters and decorations all over the wall, some spray painted art on the East wall. The boys were lounging around, listening to music while either drinking or smoking.

They were all beautiful and you’d have your pick of any of them, or rather, all of them if you could. Mace, the lead guitarist with his long locs he usually kept in a half up, half own style decorated in gold cuffs. He was cool, occasionally playful, and spent most of his time while you were around teasing. Cass, the rhythm guitar and backup singer, kept his locs in a ponytail with the font out and down his face. He was the quieter type, didn’t talk much, but he was kind when he did talk.Then there was Eli, the drummer, loud, eccentric with hair to match in streaks of white and red. He had the prettiest eyes, one blue and one brown. He was the one who brazenly flirted with you in front of Hobie.

But there was a way they all looked at you. It’s not surprising seeing as your very first interaction with them was getting fucked in front of them while they jerk off to it. Sexual tension was implied with an interaction like that.

Hobie smiled at you as you entered. “There’s ma girl. Com’ere, luv.” He motioned you to him with two fingers and you came. You slid into place beside him and he kissed you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip and his fingers tracing the curve of your delicate jaw. He kissed you like he knew you were in love with him, always kissing with just enough passion to keep you on the hook but never enough to make you believe that you’re entitled to claim him in any sort of way. "Happy birthday, baby."

“Aw, I don’ get to have a kiss, doll?” Eli came over, placing his hands on the back of the couch on their side of your head as he leaned in close to you. You hesitated, your eyes widening as you look at Hobie for what to do. He doesn’t give you any reassurance nor does he show any sign that he’s upset about the question. He just takes a drag from his joint while the other two see what you’ll do.

On the other side of the room, Cass sat strumming to the melody of the song playing over the hidden speakers on his guitar. “Don’ look so fuckin’ terrified. He’s jus’ pullin’ ya leg, dove.” He scratched behind his gauged ears, his upper lip pierced with fanged angel bites pulling into a lopsided grin. "Happy birthday by the way."

Eli sighed and fell onto the couch beside you, tossing his arm over your shoulder. You were wedged between him and Hobie, both of them with an arm around you as Hobie passed his joint to Eli. Oh the things you thought about. All the ways they could manhandle you into any position they so desired. They could pass you around like that joint they have and you’d have absolutely no qualms with it.

“Nice shirt. You make it ya’self?” Mace leaned over Hobie’s lap to get a good look at your crop top with the band’s signature and “The Mary Janes” written in bleached letters. You nodded. “Took me forever to figure out what kind of design I wanted to do but yeah.” You find that he's looking hard. Your shirt is tight, leaves nothing to the imagination though it's not like they haven't seen you in various positions. He's checking you out hard. They all are in their own way and it's nothing new but it flusters you every time.

"Stop starin' at 'er tits, pervert." Hobie jabs him in the chest with his elbow and earns himself a tug at one of his wicks in return. They squabble like siblings, bickering between themselves while Hobie moved his hand to your thigh subconsciously. You're wearing a low-waisted black maxi skirt with platform boots. A simple outfit your haphazardly tossed together in the moment to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

Eli places the joint in front of you as it sits between his long, slender fingers. "You eva smoked before, doll?" He asked in a hushed whisper beside your ear. You look up at him. “Once when I was younger. I didn’t like it all that much… but I’d be willing to try it again.” He huffs out a laugh at this and hands you the joint to take a drag of it. The smoke immediately makes you cough and your face twist up, nose scrunching in slight disdain. Cass laughs at you lightheartedly from across the room. “Maybe smokin’s jus’ not for ‘er.”

You hand it back to Eli who laughs as well, placing the joint back between his lips. “Mmh,” He hummed softly, “tha’ strawberry?” He could taste your lipgloss on the tip, savored it a little before taking a drag. “Like ma girl’s with a lil’ flavor.”

“I’m not your girl though, am I?” You say this still while leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him with the smallest hint of a smile. Sometimes you took it upon yourself to flirt with the others. It’s not like you an Hobie are an official thing, you two are free to flirt with whoever you so please (though you’re sure if he were to give the attention he gave to you to someone else, you’d lose your shit).

“Sure ‘Obes wouldn’t mind sharin’, would ya ‘obie?”

Hobie stopped his wrestling with Mace to look at his sporadic drummer then at you. “Don’ usually like sharin’ ma tings… but I also don’t believe in consistency.” He glances at you, something mischievous brimming on his lips as he leans in and kisses you, his hand comes to cradle your neck, his thumb rubbing over your throat. “She’ll always know who she belongs to at the end of the day, won’t you?” You look him in the eyes and nod.

"Das ma good girl." Hobie hummed softly and pecked you one more time. "My bes' girl. I gotta surprise fo ma favorite." Your chest swelled at his praise and the thought that he thought enough about you enough to gift you a surprise.

Hobie got up from the couch, leaving a dip in the cushion from not moving for so long. "Since it's your birthday and you must be tired just fuckin' with me all the time–" He made his way over to a recording panel, plopping himself down in a spinning chair. He was joking knowing you could never get tired of him. "So, the boys offered themselves up. Let them make you feel good, birthday girl, if you'd like. No fucking or blowjobs in return."

You never thought you'd be in a position like this, surrounded by the most beautiful men in the world and they were offering themselves up to you for your pleasure. For your birthday.

"I-I don't know…are you okay with it?" You wanted to, you wanted their hands all over you, wanted their mouths in any way you could have them but you had a creeping suspicion that this was all some elaborate test to see if you really were loyal to him. Hobie didn't like sharing his things. He already made it every clear.

"Baby, that's up to you. I only agreed as long as I was there to watch." Hobie looked at you for a moment, the way you sit squeezed between the large, warm bodies of Mace and Eli. Cass had put down his guitar and stood up. “You said ya good wit’ us sharin’ ya girl here?” He made his way slowly over to the table and around it.

"No but how could I deny my girl on her birthday?"

It was like their minds ran in parallel with each other because they all had that same look on their faces. Mace and Eli turned in to you and you felt even more trapped between the two of them and Cass standing right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk ghosting over his lips.

It was intimidating to be trapped between three men so beautiful you felt you might pass out and they all looked about ready to devour you. What a dream it would be to be splayed open, let them pass you round, take their turns with you until you’re all dumb and fucked out. Then you want Hobie to hold you, tell you you did an amazing job while he cleans you up.

It was Mace who kissed you first. Softly at first to ease you into it. You panicked a little admittedly when he pulled back, immediately looked to Hobie for some kind of approval of the situation but he completely left it up to you to decide that for yourself. Fuck you how and who you’d like, at the end of the day the two of you had no commitment to each other. He took another drag and crossed his legs, waiting. Plus, he wanted you to accept his gift to you.

You turned back to Mace, everyone waiting to see what you might choose, all willing to back off if you gave any indication you didn’t want any of this. It takes you a second that in the moment, you have all the power and if feels fucking amazing. You kiss Mace again and that give the signal for all of them to attack.

So many hands are on you at once, tugging at your clothes, grasping at your skin, removing as much as they could to expand their access to you. It’s almost overwhelming how quickly they leave you exposed and whimpering. Cass is on his knees, his large hands grasping your thighs while Mace and Eli trade places. Eli's much rougher when he kisses, his tongue demanding absolute submission from yours, his teeth sinking into the supple flesh of your lips. Mace busied himself with those pretty breasts of yours, his long fingers playing with the pebbled peak of your nipple while his lips latch onto the nipple of your other.

"Be gentle. Don't like ma tings broken, mates." Hobie makes eye contact with you and smirks. "Go on an' slut 'er out. She's a stupid cockwhore anyway. You-" he finally speaks to you like you aren't just an accessory in the room. "don' you dare take ya eyes off me, got it?"

Your only confirmation was obedience. Your eyes remained on Hobie even as Cass's lips kissed the lips of your pussy and his tongue dipped to test the waters. Even as Mace tortured your sensitive buds with his own tongue and fingers, pinching and nipping and teasing to no end. Eli’s lips teased at your neck, feasting on the way your breathing hitched at every overstimulating touch.

Hobie was relaxed, not threatened in the least by the way you could hardly handle the sensation of all of them on you. Cass’s head was slotted between your thighs. He took his time to explore, spit on your pretty little pussy like he intended to claim it. Eli helped him out, his fingers playing in Cass’s mess, teasing at your clit while his mate's tongue went back and forth between your little cunt and the taut ring of muscle of your ass. Cass kept your legs pried open despite how your muscles fought to cover your modesty and hide from the overbearing nature of their stimulation. Together, they had your pussy trembling.

Mace fondled your breasts in his hands obsessively. You wonder how many times in all of this he's thought about tit-fucking you. Maybe from the moment Hobie first brought you around. He left red marks against the brown of your skin, all destined to blossom into roses of blue and purple.

"H-Hobie." You moaned his name like he was the one with his tongue in your cunt and his fingers playing your swollen clit like a fiddle. It seemed he was enjoying the show from where he was sitting. "What is it, ma pretty girl? You enjoyin' yaself?"

Enjoying yourself was an understatement. They were making your pussy sing, playing you like a fiddle. Mace was teasing your nipples raw and you were sure you'd simply combust at any moment. You could only whine in response, looking at Hobie as he smiled and continued to talk you through your pleasure. "They've all been wannin' to fuck you for a while now, you know tha'? All they talk 'bout afta ya leave."

You could feel Cass chuckle against your clit while his tongue swirls between Eli's soaked fingers. "Have 3 holes 'n a nice pair of tits fo a reason." He spits on your clit again, making a mess of his bandmate's fingers and your pussy before dribbling down the underside of your pretty little asshole.

"Oh the ways we've thought 'bout usin' you, lovely." Mace added on with a rumbling chuckle of his own as he kissed down your diaphragm. "How we talked 'bout takin' turns fuckin' this magical cunt Hobie was goin' crazy ova."

"I talk high praise ova ma girl." Hobie murmured from the side as he took another drag. "Bes' pussy this side of the Atlantic."

"Tas'e like heaven." Cass murmured against your saliva-coated pussy while Eli continued to pinch and flick at your clit. Your pussy is pulsating, you moans growing in volume and cadence. Mace's lips are on yours again, his tongue exploring yours and savoring your taste, his long, skilled fingers teasing their buds of your nipples.

There was a thin line that separated Heaven from Hell, blissful pleasure from soul-crushing pain and you walked that line like a tightrope, wobbling a little into each from time to time but never fully surrendering to one or the other. All those hands, all those tongues, Hobie’s piercing gaze as he watched them have their way with your body. Cass’ tongue soothed the ache of Eli’s aggressive fingers, Eli’s lips kissed the bites Mace left on your body, Mace cooed at how well you were for them all while Cass went places only Hobie has ever known.

And Hobie— he was there to watch you fall apart completely and utterly. He took a drag from this joint before leaning forward to tap off the ashes as he stood. Your eyes were trained on him, muscles quivering from the onslaught of pleasure seizing them but you’d such a good girl that you never take your gaze from his pretty, slander frame.

He stood before you, partially over Cass who ate your pussy like a starved dog, lips wet with your slick ad saliva. Mace moves his hot mouth from yours and focuses more on your abused tits, littered in hickeys and bruises, nipples erect and slightly swollen from stimulation. Eli slipped his fingers down your smutty pussy and teased at the entrance of your cunt accompanied by Cass’ tongue. He used the heel of his palm to rub your clit as he sled his two long digits into your dripping pussy causing you to gasp sharply.

Hobie reached out, taking the opportunity to slide his thumb onto the wet pad of your tongue. “Close.” And you closed your lips around his thumb, suckling softly as you moaned in pleasure. You were so close to that high you sought everytime you were with Hobie. You looked up at his with those large eyes of yours, your body spasming as your tongue rolled against his thumb.

“You gonna cum, doll?” Hobie murmured at you, taking another drag as he pussed his thumb further into your mouth and down your throat until you gagged, your throat constricting. You nodded vigorously, your hips bucking uncontrollably against Cass’ face and Eli’s hand. Your hands were in Mace’s hair as he reached down and replaced Eli’s palm with his fingers now testing your clit. Your pussy jolted, throbbed with the beginnings of a climax as you moaned against his tongue. You drooled, Cass hands push your legs apart as you attempt to close them around the many fingers and single tongue against your cunt.

“Go ahead. I know they’re dying for it. They want my pretty, birthday girl to feel her best.”

Tears pricked the ducts of your eyes as your orgasm crashed down on you. Your cries were muffled by Hobie’s thumb as he weighed the pad of it down against your tongue. Your muscles spasmed, back arching off the couch as you shook. You kept looking at Hobie under the red LEDs and through the smoke from his mouth like a good girl, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on yours.

When he pulled his thumb from your lips, a string of saliva connecting you, he ran the pad of his thumb across your southern lip and cooed at you. “My girl.” You feel back against the couch, fucked out and sleepy while they one by one retracted themselves from you, starting with Cass, then Eli, then Mace.

“You’ve ou’done yaselves, boys.” Hobie came and sat beside you, pulling you into his lap while you trembled against him. His fingers ran circles along your inner thing, growing nearer to your swollen, used heat until his fingers her dragging through the cum and saliva Cass left behind. “Ain’t this the bes’ birthday eva?” Hobie whispered into your ear and with your arms wrapped around his neck, you nod against his cheek with your lips pressed into his cheek.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #spider punk #backstage show #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown my love #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader

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luffyvace · 7 months ago

Text

Akutagawa as your boyfriend ☀︎

Umm happy late b day Aku…😭 I’m totally super late for this I KNOW. But! I’m doing it anyway! >:3 late or not :P Plus I Just wanted to write for him since I really like this dude (〃ω〃) (Light blood, death and killing mentions but not in detail)

Akutagawa b day hcs first >;}

planning everything out and hiding it from him is kind of a task. 😅 the guy’s pretty stealthy himself so ya gotta make sure he doesn’t sneak up on you while your prepping things.

Buuut with the help of everyone from the port mafia (except Mori- joking! he does help but Elise does 90% of the work) you planned a mini party <3

Gin got the food! (Figs and tea enters chat)

Higuchi got the decorations! (streamers, balloons, tables, chairs)

Hirotsu keeps akutagawa busy (tea and chatting LOL)

Elise makes the banners (hints poorly drawn dead versions of everyone—extra blood for aku<3)

Kajii makes (lemon shaped) confetti poppers!!

Koyo hosted/recorded it all 💗

Chuuya brought wine and the cake (both were really expensive and tasty good job Chuuya)

Q brought lots of presents!! :3

Annnnd Tachihara! Brought some ~port mafia style~ party games (you played mafia LOL)

now general relationship things 😚

He treats you like how he does Gin, there is peace between the two of you and you have friendly interactions. (Romantic as well, for you) he will even go as far as to do favors for you but we’ll dabble in that more later ☆)

acts of service is his #1 love language. There’s no convincing me otherwise. When I say ‘he will do anything for you’ besides killing this is what I mean. You really don’t have to ask either. I talk about this some more later but, examples: done with your plate? He’ll take it. He remembers you said you needed xyz, he got it for you. You said you wanted to ____ but you fell asleep, so he did it.

hope you get along with Gin because to continue a relationship with him past 2 minutes, you need to. He will never choose friends over family. I stand on that.

honest man.

Its canon, of course this would apply to a relationship too :)

you never have to worry about him lying, thankfullly. the bad news is…this guy isn’t just honest..he’s brutally honest 😀

which he’s not dumb, but he’s also not one to pacify feelings. So say you created something and you’ve been working on this piece for a while now, (whether your an artist, writer, sculptor, something else—whatever), he takes a look at it and singlehandedly points out all the flaws 🧍‍♀️

not in a rude way-

just genuinely telling your mistakes. Which- I know can hurt because you spent a lot of time on it…..but as lest you can fix it now..? 🤷‍♀️

He respects you. Of course he does! How could you love someone you don’t respect?!

why I’m mentioning this then?? Because to him, respect is very important. There’s few that he respects personally and not because of his job.

like Dazai (sorta bc of his job but shh), Gin or Atsushi (somewhat)

And just to clear it up those he has respect for because of his job would be mori or hirotsu

so the fact that you have his respect is a mile stone!! 👯‍♀️💃💃

He’s loyal but it ain’t a fault 😋🤪

seriously tho this dude is still chasing Dazai even after he “disgraced the mafia’s name” and left to the ada

So for you?? This is simply proof that he ain’t neva leavin you, and you ain’t neva leavin him 😙 (I don’t make the rules)

even If he disagrees with your actions/opinions he will talk it out with you 😱

now he might sound a bit upset, and if your acting absolute bonkers rn and need some sense smacked into you- he might yell too. But that’s mostly if it’s for your well being.

other than that, yes the hotheaded Ryuu will calm down for you (that kinda rhymes ☝️🤓)

Bonus!:

living with the Akutagawa’s! ( ✌︎'ω')✌︎

going more into acts of service, you and Gin hardly ever have to worry about chores or errands

he doesn’t really do it for the purpose of your validation, and genuinely doesn’t expect a thank you either

”hm? Oh…it’s nothing.”

Is his response when you try to thank him

he does it because he’s responsible not for praise

although I will say, seeing as though he has a lot of respect for you, as I said earlier, you may get a semi flustered/shocked facial expression

not necessarily blushing, just a expression that shows it caught him off guard ;P

Its not uncommon to see him cleaning around the house and asking if you have any laundry

housewife Ryuunosuke LOL 😂

When goes out to get groceries he asks you and Gin if there’s anything specific you want him to buy and if yes, he’ll get it for you

just like in the anime with Gin, he doesn’t mind doing favors for you as well <3

if you decide you wanna clean up or go to the store yourself he won’t stop you and be like ‘nonono I got it you sit down 🥺’. I don’t mean this in a bad way but he’s not a gentleman on purpose

I feel he’s the type of guy to do things that you consider gentlemanly but he just considers it being polite

oh it’s fine he’s got the groceries 👌

got a order for pick up? Oh well he was going out anyway, he’ll get it 🤷

he’s got the door 👍

don’t worry about the bill he’ll pay it (restaurant or house bill 😉)

another thing…! ♡

sometimes when you and Gin wanna watch a movie but Ryuu’s still doing the dishes….

Rashomon!

do the dishes :3 (while he watches the movie with you guys)

I wasn’t gonna write these at first but I’m real glad I did! I love these and finally wrote for our guy Ryuunosuke!!

WHEN I TYPED DAZAI’S NAME IT AUTOCORRECTED FO DASANI AT FIRST HAHAHHAHA

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year ago

Text

Another realisation about Solomon post? Yes.

But First!

Let's talk about MC and Mammon's friendship (like I haven't spoken about it enough)

(platonically) general MC is probably the closest with Mammon:

• Beel mentions this in early S1 - saying that MC frequently seeks Mammon out to talk with him

• Levi mentions this in both S2 and Nightbringer

• Belphie briefly implies it in a chat

• Mammon has spoken about it multiple times

• Mammon & MC have been sharing a room frequently enough for him to leave his toothbrush and phone charger in their room from early S1 all the way up to S4

• His birthday is the only one they took charge and planned on their own, starting the gift giving a whole week before the actual date

• He's the only person in the circus event that they instantly remembered without having to talk with him first

• He's the first one in Nightbringer to fully accept them and start bringing them into the family shenanigans

• There are dialogue options like this, that aren't really options at all

• He's always their first - their first friend in every timeline and alternate universe

Okay so, now to the actual point of the post:

Solomon (in Nightbringer) asks MC if they've made any progress towards making the new pacts and MC says they're working on Mammon.

We know, obviously, why MC picks Mammon:

• He's their first. Not only does it seem like the right thing, they know him enough to know he'll throw a huge tantrum if he wasn't their first

• He's the safest and easiest option (I speak about this in more detail here) but basically he's the most settled after the Fall, the least likely to react badly or in anger, the least likely to accidentally hurt them and an extremely loyal ally (post here)

• Most importantly, he's their friend and they genuinely just like spending time with him

Solomon however, says something along the lines of picking Mammon being a smart choice because Mammon seems lonely.

Solomon's first thought was to see MC and Mammon's relationship from a strategic point of view. He saw a weakness (a true weakness btw, I actually have half a fic written from a year ago about Mammon being lonely in the Celestial Realm and I really need to complete it) and he exploited it to get what he wanted - similar to how he made a pact with Asmo in the present day timeline.

Solomon saying/doing this isn't really a bad thing, but I think it really adds to his character and shows his differences when compared to MC. It also really adds weight to the whole:

• locked away in a basement and hidden from the world during his childhood

• had one childhood friendship which is implied to have ended badly

• spent thousands of years without any real friends despite the fact that he had at least three people (Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen) who genuinely cared for him

• admitted to not seeing the demons he made pacts with as friends until either s3 or 4, despite the fact that, even pre-series, Solomon is one of the people Asmo genuinely likes, cares about, values the opinion of, wants to impress and initially feels nervous around because of this

I just...

I love it when they give you a smiley and chill, kinda goofy, character whose past is a little mysterious and then you figure out oh he's got a tragic past and also his world view and thought processes are very messed up but also a product of his past

10/10 character actually

Relevant Posts:

• Solomon's World View and Thought Processes

• How Solomon's Past Shaped Him

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camilaxmartin · 7 months ago

Note

Sorry to send another request! But this one is for Carmilla instead of Rosie. Maybe Zestial could introduce his friend or sister to Carmilla and she sticks around after meetings to chat/flirt with her? You can make as many changes as you like! I hope you're well x

beautiful?

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: literally the request beside the fact i made it only about one of their meetings, zestial!friend!reader

warnings: make out session, cursing but i’m not so sure abt it

notes: I WAS SO SCARWS ABOUT THIS ONE BUT EVENTUALLY I LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT!! hope you don’t mind i made them like this already on the first meeting but it just kinda happened:)

requests: open!!

you were a good friend of zestial for… as long as you can remember honestly. you two were always understanding each other and literally wherever he went, you went as well. when hell started gaining more and more overlords you two became sort of friends with alastor and always looked forward to meeting up with that strange deer man. the only person you haven’t actually met was carmilla carmine, zestial wanted you to meet her many times already but fate wanted it that you always had something else planned while he was meeting with her. at some point he started wondering if you just didn’t want to meet her but you reassured him that when another meeting with all the overlords will be thrown, you’ll go with him and finally meet her.

and there we were.

the day of the meeting.

you were running through the darkness of the cave looking for something to wear feeling your anxiety rising up more than it has usually. you groaned finding an old and dirty dress throwing it away and running to another hall of the cave in a search for something at least acceptably good. zestial appeared from the shadows next to you scaring you to your second death as he slowly tilted his head watching you.

“i’ve told you a milion times not to do that!” you groaned punching his legs as it was the only thing of his body that you could reach. his smiled widened at you as he looked around noticing the mess you’ve made in both of yours house. you knew each other so long there wasn’t a reason for you to split into separate homes when this cave was big enough for more than you two. zestial didn’t even flinch at your punch and his eyes started glowing more.

“what’s the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?” he asked as his smile widened even more like he already knew the answer. you groaned again and shook your head.

“i don’t have anything presentable to wear. i don’t want to be overdressed but also underdressed. it’s an overlords meeting after all. it’s been a while since i’ve been to one” you explained and groaned once more as zestial gently put one of his hands onto your shoulder.

“don’t thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing” he said softly and squeezed your shoulder gently, smiling down at you. you grabbed his hand with yours and smiled to him as well. zestial then narrowed his four eyes slightly and his smile turned into more of a smirk. “and t won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of thee” he added and you pushed his hand away noticing his implication.

“oh stop! i don’t want to impress her i just… you’ve told me so many amazing things about her what she is and what not and i don’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of her… or anyone! for that matter” you mumbled and zestial laughed softly at your words shaking his head as he walked over to a huge wardrobe in the room you two were talking in.

“you’ll beest fine. if 't be true you’ll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day.” he said taking out one of your dresses that was more on the comfortable side than the presentable one. “carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism” he added and smiled at the mention of his friend. you rolled your eyes at him and grabbed the dress out of his hand looking at it while tilting your head.

“you really think i should choose this one?” you asked and he just nodded his head disappearing into the shadows again to give you some privacy to change. you groaned but decided to go with his choice, picking out some accessories for it, to try and make it look less plain.

you sighed looking at your reflection on the cave’s wall as it was made from clear quartz. you smiled to yourself and chuckled actually enjoying how you finally looked. zestial appeared behind you and smiled at your sight as well looking you up and down.

“thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee” he said and took out his hand for you to hold as you needed to leave the cave now not to be late. with a wide smile, you took his hand and let him lead you out of the cave, grabbing some jacket on your way out so you wouldn’t get cold later.

you two met up with alastor on your way to the carmine’s property. alastor greeted you both with a wide smile (as usual) and complimented your outfit stating that he’s surprised you’d even dress up for something like this. maybe it wasn’t a full compliment after all, but you decided not to worry about him, after all he’s always been like that. as you reached the top floor, you were met with other overlords gathering for the meeting as well. rosie almost immediately walked over to alastor as she gave you a soft smile.

you smiled back and walked with zestial to the room in which the meeting was about to take place. zestial sat down in a chair close to the projector and you sat down next to him, alastor being on your other side. you started fidgeting with your fingers a bit waiting for the meeting to start and zestial put one of his hands onto yours trying to keep you calm.

as the meeting finally began you saw a demoness walking into the room with two smaller ones on both of her sides. your eyes immediately noticed her huge horns which only after starring at them for a while looked more like hair than actual horns. one of the girls that walked with her tilted her head noticing you sitting where you had, but she just shrugged it off and sat down next to the other one without making a scene about it. you almost didn’t catch it as you were still starring at the beautiful demoness in front of you. she had a stoic expression on her face as her eyes scanned the room and noticed you and zestial. her head tilted slightly yet her expression changed into a more pleasant one as she walked over to zestial.

“glad you’re here” she said to him with a smile as he gave her one back. you tried to stay calm.

“always a pleasure, carmilla” he responded and her smile widened even more. her eyes then moved onto you and literally read you off of your face yet she didn’t utter a word to you. her face went back to that stoic peace as she started the meeting explaining why she gathered all of you together and what were her new plans for hell.

when the meeting was finally done all of the overlords started leaving the room, leaving only you, zestial, carmilla and her daughters in it. carmilla was gathering all her notes from the table while her daughters were turning off the projector when zestial stood up and signalled for you to do the same. you quickly stood up and fixed your dress a bit as he smiled at you and then slowly walked over to carmilla’s side. you just watched him, standing behind the chair you were previously sitting in.

“carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth” he said and she immediately left her notes alone as her head turned to you with w soft smile on her face. “y/n, carmilla. carmilla, y/n” he said and moved away a bit so she could walk to you.

carmilla almost immediately walked towards you and stood before you taking out her hand for you to shake. which you immediately did praying to whoever was listening you that your palm wasn’t sweaty. “a pleasure to finally meet you dear” she said while shaking your hand and smiling to you wider than she’s before. you smiled back trying not to look too excited as you squeezed her hand softly in the handshake.

“the pleasures all mine, after all i should’ve met you long time ago” you said with a soft chuckle and she nodded with a remaining smile. her daughters watched the interaction with curiosity while zestial started smiling at the two demons noticing their curious gaze.

“better late than never” she chuckled and finally let go of your hand as she looked over to her daughter’s signalling that they’re free to go. the pair smiled to her and left in a hurry definitely having something planned for their time already. zestial caught your gaze and smiled softly to you, in a way that was supposed to show you he was right about not needing to stress about the outfit. you rolled your eyes at him yet carmilla was the first to catch it, as she chuckled softly and then looked over to zestial.

“do you two want to stay a while? we can do some catching up” she said mostly having zestial in her mind. you shrugged at her words and nodded not having anything else planned for the evening and expected zestial to do the same, but you were so wrong.

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting.” liar. you knew he didn’t have any plans for tonight. you eyed him up and down but he chose to ignore your gaze. “but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” he added and nodded to carmilla as a goodbye while walking over to the door.

carmilla frowned a bit not knowing about what exactly was she supposed to be talking with you while her friend wasn’t there but she definitely wasn’t going to throw you out as you’ve already agreed to stay with her. zestial smirked to you while he was leaving and you swore, you’d kill him when you get back home later tonight.

“we can get to know each other” carmilla said with a forced smile as she sighed and gathered her notes again. you started fidgeting with your fingers again.

“it’s okay if you want me to go, i understand you meant mostly for zestial to stay with you” you said as you looked at her and started noticing more and more of the details of her face the more you were staring at her. she sighed at your words but shook her head no, taking all the notes into her huge hands.

“there’s no need” she said waving one of her hands as the other kept all the notes from falling out of her grab. “i’m sure we can think something out as i’ve already asked you too to stay” she said and walked over to one of the door turning her head back to you waiting for you to follow her.

you almost immediately followed her and she hummed opening the door to her office and keeping it open for you to come in as well. you gave her a quick ‘thank you’ as you walked in, and she nodded her head closing the door behind you. carmilla walked over to her desk and dropped all the papers onto her desk as she walked over to her chair next and sat down in it with a loud grunt from her throat, closing her eyes. after a second she opened them to notice you still standing next to the door as she moved her hand pointing to the chairs in front of her desk, telling you that you can have a sit. you smiled to her and immediately went to sit down as well.

carmilla closed her eyes again and moved one of her hands to stroke her forehead as if her head was burning. you tilted you head slightly.

“are you stressed?” you asked out of the blue and carmilla opened her eyes softly, looking at you halfy confused and intrigued with why would you ask her that.

“a bit” she responded and sighed, not keeping her profesional posture anymore as she got more comfortable in her seat. you smiled uncontrollably seeing her being comfortable around you enough to let herself loosen the straight up persona.

“what is bothering you?” you asked and carmilla scoffed waving her other hand in the air and rolling her eyes as she whispered something in spanish under her breath. you bit your lip looking at her trying to figure out if you should let her be or dig a bit deeper. “i know a few ways to relax” you said and carmilla chuckled at your words as she looked at your rather playfully. only after a moment you realised how your sentence sounded and chuckled as well, rolling your eyes in a more of a relaxed manner.

“and what would they be?” carmilla asked as she took her hand away from her forehead and continued looking at you, gently rising one of her eyebrows now as she fixed her composure and the way she was sitting. you decided to shoot your shot, it was hell after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

“you know, some people relax while having a massage, other prefer partying out their worries” you said as you moved your hands with your words, carmilla’s eyes noticing every small move of them. “and there’s people who say pleasure is also a good way to take away the stress” you added with a small smirk and carmilla started laughing as she put her hands on the desk for some support.

“you’re a bold one” she said still laughing and you just shrugged trying to keep the confidence but also wanting to see if this situation can turn into something more.

after she stopped laughing she took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. “it seems having a good laugh helps as well” she said grinning and watching your whole figure sitting in the chair. you smiled to her uncontrollably and started playing with your fingers again. carmilla’s eyes immediately went down to your hands as she narrowed her brows and she now started to slightly lean over her desk. “don’t do that” she said looking at your hands and it took you a second to realise what she was referring to.

“oh, don’t worry about it” you said a bit nervously as you chuckled, yet carmilla’s gaze wasn’t getting any softer.

“i’m serious” she said and looked up onto your face again “don’t ruin your pretty hands with something as stupid as being nervous” she added and stopped leaning over her desk, leaning her back against her chair. you couldn’t help but catch her words and started smiling to yourself a bit.

“so i have pretty hands?” you asked and carmilla’s eyebrow went up at your question yet her expression stayed stoic. you smirked to her as you noticed her raised eyebrow and waited for her response. yet carmilla didn’t seem to be planning on saying something as she just looked down at all the papers on her desk, suddenly looking for something only with her eyes. you chuckled to yourself as you felt like you’ve stroke a jackpot.

“aren’t you going to respond?” you asked with a soft chuckle as you got up from your seat and walked over closer to her chair. her eyes were on you the whole time like they were always looking for some danger. you smiled more as you noticed her gaze and as you finally walked over to her enough to be standing right next to her chair. carmilla was looking at you a bit suspiciously but some curiosity was dancing in her gaze as well.

“what are you planning on doing now?” she asked as she turned her chair a bit so she was facing you fully now. you giggled and shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. lies, she saw better than that.

“i’m planning on waiting for you response” you chuckle as you put your hands on your hips looking down at her face. “and offering you a scalp massage” you added with a smile and carmilla’s eyes went wide.

“a scalp massage?” she asked a bit confused while narrowing her eyes at you. you chuckled and nodded your head.

“yes, it helps with headaches and stress” you explained and made another step into her direction closing the space between you more and more. “can i?” you asked looking at her pinned up hair.

carmilla bit her lip looking away from you as she closed her eyes and sighed, nodding her head. “yes, yes you can” she said softly and moved one of her hands to her ‘hair’, pulling at the ribbon that was keeping her hair up, pulling it out completely and letting her hair fall down.

you literally felt how your hands started shaking at the sight of her with her hair down and you couldn’t stop staring at her. your eyes roamed her up and down yet mostly they focused on her face and how beautifully the hair was capturing it. she cleared her throat feeling a bit uneasy under your gaze but in a nervous way, not an uncomfortable one. the sound took you down to hell as you smiled dumbly feeling your cheeks blush.

“sorry” you said as you moved your hands onto her head and started slowly slipping your fingers through her hair not even massaging her scull yet. “you just… i just wasn’t prepared to see you like this” you said and chuckled a bit at your own words. carmilla chuckled as well but decided to push her luck.

“like this? what do you mean?” she asked leaning back in her chair a bit more so that you’d need to take another step closer to her. you haven’t noticed she did it on purpose as you made that step closer now standing right between her legs. you looked down at her legs on both sides of yours and your face flushed even more, as you brought your eyes up again looking at the top of her head. carmilla hummed seeing your reaction and her eyes immediately went up to your face.

“you know…” you started as you remembered she’s asked you a question. your hands started to massage her scull finally and she grunted a bit at the feeling making your pink cheeks turn red now. “this… beautiful” you shrugged saying it as nothing else was coming into your mind. carmilla blinked at your words still looking up at your face but with a slight of surprise on her face as well.

“beautiful? you find me beautiful?” she asked sounding generous yet a hint of tease could be heard in her voice. you bit your lip and rolled your eyes making your fingers scratch her scalp a bit now.

“i do” you said nodding your head softly. “when i saw you entering that meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, but when you let your hair down-“ you chuckled and heard her grunting again when your fingers pressed down harder. “i think beautiful is an understatement at this point” you added and laughed as carmilla felt her cheeks blush this time. she covered it up with a chuckle from her as well yet your eyes were able catch her rosy cheeks.

you started massaging her scull more now putting more pressure into it and trying to focus on it rather than on the fact how close you were to her and that she literally had you in her grip. carmilla closed her eyes at some point enjoying the massage and letting out many sounds showing how much she enjoyed your massage. you tried your best not to let them affect you yet your red cheeks were speaking for themselves.

you slipped your fingers through her hair more and more getting to more parts of her scull as carmilla was just sitting there enjoying it. at some point her hands moved from her armrests to your hips to keep you close and mostly, to keep her stable as she needed some grounding. you chuckled at the feeling and continued your ministrations actually enjoying the feeling of her hands on your hips.

suddenly, your fingers got stuck in her hair and you tried to get them out, gently pulling at her hair. you didn’t expect the hair to get so tangled around your finger but something you didn’t expect even more was the moan that left carmilla when you pulled at her hair. her hands gripped your hips a bit as the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard left her mouth. making both of your cheeks flush, making yours turn from red to maroon. carmilla opened her eyes immediately and looked up at you as her hands were still holding you still at your hips. you looked down at her as well, making eye contact and not controlling the smirk that creeped up onto your face.

“you liked that, huh?” you asked and carmilla looked away her cheeks blushing even more. you chuckled and pulled at her hair again, on purpose this time. she didn’t expect it again and let out a high-pitched groan, bitting down on her lip almost immediately to keep her sounds in.

you smirked wider and made it your mission to pull more of that sounds out from her. carmilla looked up at you again and noticed your smirk knowing well that you were planning something. her hands gripped your hips tighter and you bit your lip as well, fingers dipping into her hair more. carmilla smirked seeing your reaction and closed her legs a bit so that they’d keep you in place, as well as right between them.

she moved her head a bit so she was more looking up at you know, but you were still able to massage her scalp. she looked at you with a smirk and some kind of lazy eyes as the moves of your fingers were playing with her a bit. you chuckled looking down into her eyes and enjoying the feeling of her legs squeezing yours.

“i’m thinking of letting you give me an actual massage” she chuckled and you looked away from her chuckling nervously as well. carmilla licked her lips and gripped your hips tighter her huge hands covering most of your waist.

“if you want it, i’m down” you replied and went back to scratching at her scull. she chuckled but then it turned into a moan when you found another good spot on her head, yet this time she wasn’t hiding the sound anymore. she bit her lip again but continued on softly moaning when your hands kept on massaging her scalp.

after a moment of silence between you two, one of her hand started to slowly move up your body touching your stomach, then your ribs, just so softly tracing the underside of your boob and then going to rest on your shoulder. you bit your lip at the feel of her hand and tried to keep a straight face as you continued on massaging her. carmilla chuckled seeing your reaction as her other hand gripped your hip again. you let out a groan at the feeling and she chuckled, her legs squeezing you once again.

“are you alright?” she asked suddenly and your eyes immediately went to hers. “you look a bit… red” she added with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes playfully at her but when her finger started gently stroking your collarbone you let out a sigh.

“said the one who’s just as red as i am” you replied right back and she smirked enjoying the confidence you were giving her.

“you’re bold, mi cariño” she said and you felt your legs going weak at the spanish nickname. she noticed as well and licked her lips, enjoying her affect on you.

“you seem to like me being bold” you said pushing your fingers a bit harder as she groaned and nodded her head softly, her fingers still tracing your collarbone.

“you have no idea how much” she replied as her hand on your hip started to stroke your body there. you bit your lip again and started to grow more and more impatient. as was she, but you couldn’t have known that.

you softly moved your hands from her hair down to her face and cupped her cheeks looking into her eyes like searching for permission. she smirked seeing your gaze as her hand gripped your hip harder this time, as did her legs.

“what?” she asked knowing exactly what you were asking for not using your words. you rolled your eyes at her question and leaned down a bit your nose almost touching hers now.

“can i kiss you, beautiful?” you asked and carmilla felt her cheeks blush again at the end. she took a deep breath in looking deep into her eyes and stayed silent for a moment just enjoying how the question hang in the air while her hands were touching your body and yours were touching her face.

her gaze softened after a second and she nodded her head. “yes, yes you can” she said and you smiled at her, the smile being the most generous one she’s ever seen in hell.

you moved her face up a bit, touching her nose with yours and you giggled, carmilla closing her eyes at the sound and smiling wide herself. after a second you moved your head down not even by an inch and finally touched her lips with yours.

when your lips finally connected both of her hands gripped your body keeping you close to her as if she was afraid you’d run away. you smiled into the kiss and tried to make it more of a soft one yet the way she was gripping you and the way her legs were squeezing your figure have shown you that she wasn’t in a mood for a soft kiss.

before you could even react her hand on your shoulder moved to your neck and pulled you even more into her, deepening the kiss as she swiftly slipped her tongue into your mouth. you moaned into the kiss and she just smiled fighting with you for dominance which after a while you lost. carmilla moaned as well feeling you finally submissive to her and her hand left your neck going back to your shoulder again.

you moaned again and as you were about to pull away she moved her lips from yours down to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving trails and trails of wet and sloppy kisses there, literally marking you with her black lipstick. you kept on moaning softly, as your hands went back into her hair pulling at it slightly, showing how badly you were enjoying yourself.

carmilla smirked at your reaction as her hand on your hips gripped you again. her mouth suddenly sucked a hickey on your neck and you yelped slightly tugging at her hair more. she moaned at the feeling and started softly nibbling on your neck pulling more and more sounds out of you.

when you two were going at it you haven’t heard the door to her office open, at least not until you heard a thud of something falling down onto the ground. you two immediately opened your eyes and leaned away looking towards the door. you saw both of her daughters standing there and noticed the small pile of papers on the ground as the blonde one must’ve been the one to drop it.

carmilla looked at them sheepishly and chuckled uncomfortably, tying her hair back and trying to act as professional as she could. the two girls shared a look and one of them bent down to grab the papers. after that they both rolled their eyes, one of them more annoyed while the other more amused.

“we will come back later, mom” the blonde one shot as they both walked out of the office shutting the door after them with a rather loud thud.

carmilla started laughing when they left but it was more of an uncomfortable and uncontrollable laugh yet it didn’t stop you from laughing with her as well. her two daughters just caught her sucking your skin off in her office yet for some reason laughing was calming you two down.

after this, you knew that anytime zestial would be meeting with carmilla now you’d definitely come along and maybe… probably… surely you will be meeting up with her now even without your shared friend.

translations:

"what's the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?" - “what’s the problem my friend? why are you in such a hurry?”

"don't thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we're wearing" - “don’t worry, whatever you wear will be fine. no one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing”

"and t won't affect carmilla's first impression of thee" - “and it won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of you”

"you'll beest fine. if 't be true you'll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day." - “you’ll be fine. if you let me, i would choose this for today”

"carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism" - “carmilla will appreciate your professionalism”

"thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee" - “you look ravishing, she will love to meet you”

"carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth" - “carmilla this is the friend i wanted you to meet for so long”

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting. but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” - sadly i can’t carmilla. ive promised alastor id see him after the meeting. but y/n already agreed so you won’t be bored

all translations from here!

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla x reader #hazbin carmilla carmine #carmilla carmine x reader #hazbin carmilla x reader #carmilla hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine #carmilla x reader #carmilla x you #carmilla carmine x you #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine x reader #hazbin hotel carmilla #character x reader #carmilla carmine fluff

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foxglovepng · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! I don’t know if you write this kind of thing, but could I have a silly little crack fic about Grim sabotaging different boys’ attempts at flirting with the prefect? Little guy has gotta look out for his henchhuman, y’know?

Characters: Ace, Cater, Floyd, Rook.

CW: Ace's part mentions his ex, Bit of blood in Floyd's part, Cater's is kind of sad, Rook is Rook.

A/N: Hello Anon! I hope this is to your liking. I made Ace's part kind of long and since you didn't specify which characters I just let the wheel picker decide. I feel I may have written Grim a little OOC so apolgies for that I don't normally write for him, but I do love a challenge.

If you liked it reblogs and likes are always greatly appreciated!!

Not proofread

↠ Part 2

Ace- He nitpicks at his attempts/ruins them

After the events of Riddle, Leona’s, Azul’s, and the Jamil overblot he wasn’t present for. Ace had started taking a liking to prefect they were close after spending so much time together and he liked Yuu however a certain cat had other plans. Ace was always worried that he wouldn’t date anyone especially after what happened with his ex-girlfriend he was worried he wouldn’t be able to date the prefect, so subtle hints of flirting he gave to the prefect. However Grim started taking a notice to Ace’s behavior towards his henchman and didn’t really like that. The next time Ace would try anything Grim would try and stop it.

“Henchman, can you get me some more Tuna?” Grim asked

“Grim I just got you some Tuna we barely have the expenses to get you more. I still need to eat as well.” Yuu spoke as Grim sighed, mumbling something.

“Yo prefect.” Ace’s voice was heard as the Prefect turned to look at the red head who was jogging over.

“Hey Ace. What did you get on the test yesterday?” Yuu asked

“I got a 100%.” He crossed his arms proudly

“In your dreams you did.” Grim spoke

“What! No, I totally got an A.” Ace defended himself

“It was an easy test so I would hope you get an A.” Yuu spoke giggling a bit.

“Anyways. Prefect you wanna grab some lunch? I’ll pay.” Ace offered flashing a cheeky smile.

“Yeah I.” Prefect was cut off by Grim, “Actually we were going to the library to study.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have some lunch Grim.” Yuu spoke

“Yeah I can totally help you guys study as well.” Ace spoke

Grim gave up as Yuu started walking with Ace to the cafeteria. Grim was obviously annoyed. He needs his Henchmen to not dally off with boys that will distract them from him becoming a great mage.

“You had a basketball game recently, right? You were pretty amazing.” Yuu spoke to Ace

“I have to do well, so I won’t be benched. You should come to my games more often. It would help if you were cheering me on.” Ace nudged Yuu

“If you want a personal cheerleader you could just hire one y’know.” Grim crossed his arms

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Ace rubbed the back of his neck

“I don’t mind going to your games, in fact I really like seeing you do something you’re passionate about.” Yuu spoke which made Ace turn red a bit.

“Can we go back to studying? You two are getting off track.” Grim spat

“Jeez Grim, it was just some small conversation.” Ace spoke

It went silent as the air felt heavy. The only sounds of pencil writing and pages of textbooks flipping. Eventually it was almost time to go to class.

“We should probably get to leaving class is going to start soon.” Yuu spoke

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at class.” Ace spoke feeling defeated by Grim’s tactics who felt quite proud of himself. Maybe Ace will have another chance to tell Yuu how he feels.

Cater- Ruins photos/Justs gets in the way

Cater enjoyed hanging out with Yuu a lot and he always tried to find a way to hang out with Yuu. Taking photos while hanging out to save for memories incase Yuu ever decides to leave this world he has something to remember Yuu. Whenever Yuu needed help or needed something he was always offering just to spend time with Yuu. However as of recently due to Halloween being at the end of the month and midterms coming up Yuu hasn’t had a lot of time to spend with Cater not to mention Grim is also finding a way to try and keep Yuu busy. Grim didn’t want his Henchman to get distracted by one of the coolest and chillest third years. Cater started picking up on Grim’s behavior but just pushed it off as he just wanted the both of them to work hard so they don't get expelled.

“Hey Yuu.” Cater walked up to the Prefect.

“Hey Cay. Sorry we haven’t been hanging out a lot, just been so busy.” Yuu spoke

“It’s no biggie. We can find a way to hang out soon.” He spoke

“Do you have any unbirthday parties coming up soon? Maybe I can attend.” Yuu spoke

“We do actually I was going to see if you can come anyways. It’s on Friday at the usual time.” Cater spoke

“Yeah I’d love to come.” Yuu spoke

“Henchman.” Grim’s yell was heard as he came running up to the prefect. Jumping on them, climbing on them to their shoulder.

“Hey Grimmy.” Cater greeted Grim.

“Can we go to Sam’s please?” Grim begged, ignoring Cater.

“You aren’t going to get 20 cans of Tuna are you?” Yuu asked

“Please.” Grim started begging gripping Yuu’s shoulder.

“Okay we can go. I’ll see you later Cater.” Yuu spoke as Cater waved and they both left.

Cater felt sad. He wanted to hang out with his favorite freshman, but of course they got caught up with something. Cater would also feel upset seeing the message Yuu sent the very next day saying they can’t make it to the birthday party another hangout ruined.

Floyd- He ruins any food/gets defensive whenever Floyd gets too close

Floyd liked his shrimpy, he loved the way Shrimpy hung out with him, he loved the way he got to squeeze his shrimpy. However Floyd’s been noticing the baby seal has been passive aggressive to him recently. He’s also been noticing food he makes for Shrimpy also gets ruined. Floyd has done many checks no one in the kitchen is messing with prefects food, and it’s certainly not Jade or Azul doing it. Azul started complaining Floyd is spending resources on food that doesn’t get paid or eaten so eventually he had to stop the free food for his shrimpy. Jade has pointed out it could be the doing of Grim, but Floyd isn’t hoping Grim would go that far. Would he?

Prefect decided to pay a visit to the Octavinelle trio mainly to check up on everyone and see how they are doing. Grim was getting antsy because he wanted to go back to ramshackle to take his daily nap. Floyd was working a shift, but decided he was going to take just a small break to go see his shrimpy.

“Shrimpy.” Yuu heard Floyd’s voice as he came from behind them and squeezed them. Grim got fed up from wanting to take a nap and Floyd so he did what his instinct told him to do.

“Grim.” Yuu called as there were lines that started to bleed on Floyd’s arm. Grim had scratched Floyd and he didn’t look pleasant with that. Yuu pulled Grim away as Jade looked shocked watching the interaction.

“Brother let me go get the first aid kit.” Jade spoke walking off as Floyd exhaled and walked away. Baby seal is getting a talking to tomorrow and not a fun one.

Rook - He destroys love letters & poetry

Yuu had caught the eye of Rook. Naturally from not being from his world he took interest in the Prefect and fell for their beauty. Rook is a gentle poetic lover meaning the Prefect is his muse. Rook has definitely caught on that Grim does not like him, but would never think Grim would go as far to destroy his pieces of work to protect Yuu. Rook would send letters and Poetry to Yuu every day, and even went as far to handing the letters directly to Yuu before grim threw them away, not caring about either one’s opinions.

Rook deemed it as a challenge and decided he would use any means necessary to make sure the prefect knows they are valued and appreciated. Rook is simply a poet and Yuu is simply his muse; he wishes to know every bit of them if they decide to leave his world.

Even if Yuu decided to leave in a poet's eyes the muse lives on forever.

Special mention

Malleus- …

Grim is dead before he can intervene with the courtship of him and his child of man (/hj)

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dairy-farmer · 2 months ago

Note

The lobotomised Tim AU.

Okay. But.

This one is hurt/no comfort. Like no happy ending. None at all. I'm almost crying while writing this down.

If it wasn't Bruce's fault and everything's completely innocent with the Bats.

Alfred is washing up Tim and cooks him food for children. Something easy to chew and swallow.

Damian sometimes draws with him. Teaches him to pet Alfred the cat and Titus. It's like having little brother. He feels very protective of him. And when he is not having a good day, he comes to Tim to spend some time with him. For Damian it's easy to be with Tim. He won't say things he doesn't mean. Won't lie or manipulate.

It's almost unbearable for Dick and Bruce.

Dick lives in Blud but he spends weekends with Tim. Cuddling him, watching cartoons, playing. But for Dick spending time with Tim means mourning everything his little brother has lost. He tries to keep it all in and cry only when Tim doesn't see him.

It's the same with Bruce. He let his son down. Tim will never recover and it's Bruce's fault. He asks Tim about his day, listens and nods in all the right places, but he thinks about what a brilliant future his genius and kindhearted son was supposed to have. After everything he has lost... Tim seems happy enough though. So Bruce is working on being present, giving his children attention they need, spending time with them. He misses working cases with Tim, his sassy remarks, but Tim is smiling and that's enough.

Jason was really quiet. He stayed away from the manor for a long time. No one heard him mentioning Tim in all that time. Dick tried to shame him, tell him that Tim needs them, but Jason left immediately.

For some reason things changed. Jason came back to the Cave, started showing up for family movie nights. Sometimes he looked at Tim silently. Though when Tim would run to him to show him a drawing he made or a cool rock he found in the garden, Jason would smile softly and say "that's great, Timmy. Sounds like you had a good day" or something else. So everyone could finally relax. Things seemed to get better.

Jason remembered that day vividly. Tim was on his back, staring at the ceiling with his eyes unseeing. It's like all life left him. But he still had a pulse, so there was hope. While others were busy taking care of him, Jason took care of that piece of shit. And he regrets it. He should have been there for Tim, should have made the right decision, when he had a chance. The obvious decision. The one everyone else is ignoring for some reason.

It's like Damian likes Tim better this way, Dick accepted a new brother and Bruce thinks that things haven't changed much and they can just keep living on. Tim won't grow as a person, he doesn't really remember his life before and doesn't register much of his life now, he will always depend on the family to take care of him. Tim would have hated it.

Bruce rejected the plan with Lazarus Pit, because they would have to disregard Tim's feelings for it. It's exactly the same with Tim's life as it is now, but it's like the choose not to see it. And they make Jason feel sick.

At first he avoids them, because he knows he'll blow up. He avoids Tim, because it hurts too much. But time goes by, and Jason has a sudden realization: nothing will change, unless he takes it in his own hands. Tim needs him.

What he has to do will probably permanently break him, but it's the right thing to do.

He doesn't even try suggesting euthanasia, they're just gonna think he's a monster, will never let him anywhere near Tim ever again.

So he starts spending time with his family, dropping by for movie nights, working cases, staying for dinner. He has small talks with kid (not Tim, Tim died months ago), he smiles at him, all the while feeling his heart break.

Finally, everyone is busy, no one can stay with kid, so Jason volunteered to look after him. He ignored Dick and Bruce's proud looks, because it really doesn't matter.

Kid is always happy to see him. It's like there're no other emotions left in him. His smile is... Different. It feels lifeless for Jason. He feels like his heart is bleeding out. He wants to postpone everything, but this isn't about him. This is what Tim wanted, and Jason couldn't save him, so he'll give him peace at least.

Jason suggests reading to kid. They are in Tim's bedroom, and kid's on the bed. Jason is laying beside him.

/And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying.

"It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look as if I were dead;

and that will not be true..."/

He is reading until kid starts to fall asleep from the pills Jason put in his lunch. And then Jason takes him in his hands, holding him close. He gets syringe out of his jacket pocket and carefully injects medication in kid's elbow and keeps on holding him. Even when Tim stops breathing, leaving painlessly in his sleep, Jason doesn't leave him. He knows that soon someone will be home. He doesn't know, what they'll do to him and he doesn't care. All he can do is cry and hold unmoving body.

"I'm sorry, Timmy. I'm so sorry. You can rest now. I love you".

/feel free to add or change anything. You and your subscribers keep inspiring me.

All the love/

🥺🥺🥺 the tragedy of jason in this.

it wasn't a decision jason made lightly- no matter how he turned it around and justified it to himself it was a hard choice to make. at first jason wasn't going to do anything. he was going to try.

he was going to do his best to be there for his little brother with the way he was now.

but then. he'd gone to the manor, gone to see tim as he recovered and...he couldn't.

he walked in when alfred was giving tim his lunch. warm chicken noodle soup with mushy rice. and he watched as alfred blew on a spoon and gently led it to tim's messy mouth. tim sometimes still struggled to swallow and would occasionally make a slight gag and spit out the soup and rice. alfred would make a concerned noise and dab at his mouth with the cloth bib tied around his neck.

and the sight. the way tim was tucked into bed and propped up by pillows, the way he had an adult bib wrapped around him as alfred hand fed him because tim couldn't do it himself.

god. jason knew it was going to be bad but nothing had prepared him for that sight. and watching it...hurt something inside jason.

so he'd left.

and that had hurt something deep in the other family. bruce hadn't fought him on it but jason knew he was disappointed. alfred as well.

dick had been furious. he'd call jason late at night and spit words at him over the phone over him not being there, over him abandoning tim and them.

and jason tried to let it rool off his back. but some nights the words would get to him.

and so, without the rest of the family knowing, jason would sneak into the manor, into tim's room.

and maybe it was some of tim's latent training, but a few times tim would wake up. he'd be powdered and dressed in pajamas, turning his head to look at jason and when their eyes met-

there'd been no recognition in them.

jason could just as well have been a stranger or the person who took care of him everyday- either way tim didn't recognize him.

jason's decision was a hard one. he agonized over it and he would not let anyone tell him otherwise.

jason loved tim. he cared for that kid so fucking much and maybe he didn't always make that clear but in jason's soul he loved that boy. and it broke something in him to see him that way.

helpless and squirming, unable to do anything for himself, stripped completely of his dignity and identity.

bruce and dick called what tim went through "lobotomy" but it wasn't true. it was something worse.

lobotomy victims could still live fulfilling lives, some even becoming fully independent with minor accommodation.

the monster that had hurt tim had shot some kind of...electromagnetic pulse into his brain. the damage was irreversible.

jason didn't care what anyone said, he hadn't made the fucker that did this suffer enough. jason should've kept him strung up in a warehouse for weeks but had let his rage get ahold of him and killed him too quickly.

jason's thoughts of tim don't go away. whether he's awake or asleep tim is all he thinks about. and part of jason knows why because...because everything about it reminded him of his own case.

jason had read the hospital medical chart of 'john doe'. the one picked up months after jason was buried, found wandering the streets half starved and with brain damage.

jason had read those medical files and just...wanted to puke. the nurses notes about him, the way they talked about him. discussing things like moving him to a state care home, of changing his diapers. along with the file had been report had been made against one of the nurses caring for jason by cleaning staff who'd found her...doing inappropriate things with him.

it never went into detail and part of jason never wanted to know.

but jason thought of that report, thought of how helpless and vulnerable and...NOT himself he'd been in that hospital bed. jason thought and thought and thought and he knew it was no way for a person to live.

no way for tim to live. tim didn't deserve that. god forgive jason tim didn't deserve to live like that.

because one day jason would die violently out in the streets of gotham. they all would. and tim would be left alone in that manor with no one to protect him and jason...jason couldn't breathe when he thought of what might happen to him.

so jason does not make his decision lightly.

it kills him. it kills him to think of what he has to do.

but tim was his baby brother and jason was not going to let the word tear him to bits like they did him.

so jason goes back to the manor.

part of him had hoped that maybe spending more time around tim would change his mind.

it doesn't.

jason watches the way tim is a husk of his former self. watches how the rest of the family ignores it. watches how they always talk around tim and about him but never TO him and remembers how tim had hated that with a passion because it reminded him about how his parents made decisions about him without letting him know.

jason watches and...and tries to remember the geeky annoying pest of a brother he used to have. how he'd talk smack to jason every chance he got, how he'd whine, how he'd giggle like a schoolgirl whenever he or damian got into trouble. jason would remember and blink away the tears of grief that wanted to leave hot trails down his cheeks.

it takes a while before jason gets his shot. alfred has errands, damian has school, dick and bruce have work.

and jason volunteers to care for tim.

its just a few hours they assure him but jason insists its okay. he tries to ignore the pit of guilt and watching them leave knowing they're going to be coming home to a dead son.

bruce presses a soft kiss to tim's forehead before leaving and it takes everything in jason to not drawn in a sharp breath.

jason is a killer. a murderer. an assassin. a gun for hire. a hitman. he is a lot of things but he's never once thought of himself as an executioner.

the word always seemed too...heavy. too institutional.

it's going to be tim's last day alive and jason knows what to do. this will be a day that haunts him for the rest of his life.

so jason makes mac and cheese. he finds a box of it in the back of the pantry. it's the cheap 99 cent stuff jason used to live off as a kid.

he doesn't even need to read the instructions anymore, its practically muscle memory. bringing the water to boil, draining the noodles, stirring in the milk, the butter, the packet of cheese powder.

jason serves tim a bowl and slowly presses little spoonfuls to his mouth. jason tries to eat some but it turns to mush and ash in his mouth and the wad struggles to go down because his throat feels small and tight from him holding back his emotions.

it feels more final somehow. more real.

he's giving tim his last meal.

the walk up the stairs is slow and heavy. tim's breath smells like the ice cream jason let him have for dessert even though tim was lactose intolerant.

a final parting gift. jason ignores the slight pain in his fingers from crushing up a pill between them to sprinkle over tim's ice cream.

jason makes sure tim's sheets are clean. he strips the bed and puts in the freshly laundered ones that alfred had left in a basket.

he makes sure tim is comfortable and then he climbs in with him.

tim is lax and pliant as jason hold him close. his baby soft hair is tucked under jason's chin and jason can feel warm breath on his neck as he makes sure tim is settled.

then he starts to read to him.

tim smells like rosemary soap from his morning bath. and for some reason the scent makes jason's eyes sting as he reads.

his voice trembles occasionally, it gets thick and he has to cough to clear his throat. but he keeps reading, turning page after page as tim's eyes grow droopier and his breathing gets softer.

when jason's little brother is asleep in his arms jason doesn't immediately do it.

for a moment. he just holds tim.

he just hugs him, closes his eyes and tries to memorize the rise and fall of his baby bird's chest.

jason thinks of backing out. of not doing it.

but he knows if he does...then he'll never work up the nerve to do it again. he just won't...have the strength in him to take his little brother's life.

so jason holds him. he bites down on his lip, buries his nose in the crown of tim's soft head, and he uncaps the syringe in his pocket.

jason didn't want tim to feel anything, not even the sting of a needle plunging into his skin. that's why he'd given him the pill.

jason pushes the plunger all the way down and then leaves the emptied needle on the bedside table.

jason lies there for hours.

even after tim's chest has stopped rising.

his tears have long dried when he hears the front door of the manor open. damian is loudy complaining about something and dick is pacifying him.

jason can hear the movement around the manor. bruce and alfred both come in through the garage.

he can hear someone on the stairs, the clap of dress shoes on the hall carpet as they approach tim's room. he can hear the call of his name behind the door followed by a knock.

still jason does not move.

jason never planned for what he would do when they found him.

maybe part of him didn't care.

maybe part of him hoped they send him to be with tim.

the door creaks open and jason closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to tim's forehead.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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