#stuck behind the same desk and not mattering at all

[isfjmel-phleg]

😶

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[teddybeartoji]

film professor!toji, who always wears dark colored slacks and a button-up shirt, alongside with a tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of glasses that keep sliding down his nose. the watch on his wrist is always the same one, a relatively chunky silver one that surely can only look normal on a man his size. 

sometimes he rolls up his sleeves, sometimes he unbuttons a few buttons of his shirt; sometimes he ditches the tie entirely and goes for a less sophisticated look. the material wrapped around his biceps looks like it’s about to tear open whenever he folds his arms over his chest and his pants aren’t doing any better, his thick thighs are just bulging out whenever he decides to lean his ass against his desk. and he’s confident, he’s cocky. he looks tired as fuck and his hair is more often than not a complete mess, but needless to say, he always looks very, very good. 

film professor!toji, who’s got a habit of fidgeting with his pens. he’s either simply toying with them in his hands as he introduces the next film you’ll be watching or he’s got one between his teeth as he watches you guys do your presentations. and he usually tucks the thing behind his ear when he’s done playing with it. 

film professor!toji, who’s constantly throwing his legs on top of his desk when he’s listening to the class or when he’s showing you something from the projector. with his hands behind his head, he leans so far back in his chair that it has all of you placing bets on how long he’ll manage to hold that pose before he falls. he never does. 

film professor!toji, who’s an absolute sucker for films from the 80’s. indiana jones, alien, blade runner, scarface, evil dead etc etc – you name it, he’s seen it. has multiple big posters of said films in his classroom too btw. he’s not actually picky though, he’ll watch just about anything because well, why not. he’s not really pretentious either, though he will tease you if you claim a ‘silly’ film as your favourite but he won’t put you down for it. he’ll push you a bit, asking questions to test how sure you are of your answer and then just proceeds to watch you defend yourself with a long ramble with a sly little grin on his lips. that’s what he wants to see after all – that his students love films, no matter what kind. 

film professor!toji, who knows a lot of random facts about the most random films and is not afraid to very casually blurt them out during his classes. some of them are very informative and then some of them are rather questionable, leaning more towards a piece of gossip if anything else. but it’s not like anybody’s complaining.

film professor!toji, who asks what you guys have watched since your last class with him at the beginning of every single class. doesn’t spend an entire hour on this topic but it’s always a certified fifteen minute break from the actual studying because he thinks it’s important for his students to talk about films. to talk about what you saw – if you noticed any peculiarities or mistakes, whether you liked the thing or not. and he always listens; he sips his coffee with his pencil stuck behind his ear, and then proceeds to ask very specific questions. he seems to have seen, or at least to know, every single film ever made and it’s kind of ridiculous(ly hot).

film professor!toji, who's still somehow not entirely used to people calling him 'sir'. mr. fushiguro is what he usually prefers but the 'sir' still pops up every so often and it always catches him so off-guard that it takes him a second to realize that he's the sir.

film professor!toji, who rants in front of the whole class about how much it sucks to watch movies from your teeny tiny laptops. he’s a cinema guy, through and through. and of course, he understands if it’s like a money thing because well, it’s not the least expensive thing to do on a weekly basis but he just tries to emphasize how much better it is to watch things on the big screen. he urges all of you to always take the opportunity when it comes along. 

film professor!toji, who fucking hates grading any sort of papers. he just despises it. he huffs and puffs behind his desk with his head in his hands, contemplating whether this is the right job for him or not (he will never quit). 

film professor!toji, who mostly hangs out with his buddy down the hall, the loud-mouthed history teacher with pink hair. they go on smoke breaks together, laughing together over some stupid answer they saw on a test. 

film professor!toji, who throws his head back with an exasperated sigh every time he spots the white-haired physics professor staring into the hall from the small window on the door with a stupidly big grin on his face.

film professor!toji, who’s schedule falls just in line with the sly literature professor and his brother, the freaky philosophy professor. toji refuses to sit next to the latter, he finds him too off-putting. but with mr. geto – they like to drink their morning coffees together in silence in their own little corner, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. sometimes they talk about films as well, but they almost always end up bickering like some old people because their tastes do not align at all.

film professor!toji, who doesn’t miss the way some of the students seem to swoon over him – he finds it very amusing. he doesn’t really see the appeal, he thinks he’s way too old anyway.

film professor!toji, who’s eyes do seem to linger on you just a little longer than they do on others though. who does a very subtle double-take whenever you enter the room and who steals glances at you when he sees you in the halls. it’s not like he’d ever try anything, of course – that’d be incredibly inappropriate. you’ but he sure does think you’re pretty, there’s no denying of that… 

[shotmrmiller]

Multiverse part 3

You sat in a small room on a padded chair, with equipment set up around your arm, chest, and fingertips. A polygraph test. That's what you were being forced to take. And to your chagrin, Ghost is in the room with you and Captain Price.

"Try to relax, yeah?" Price commented. He must've noticed your restless leg.

"I'll do that, shall I? I've done nothing wrong, other than exist and I'm being interrogated. Because that's what this is— an interrogation." You finally turn your attention from Ghost to look at Price, who's sitting at the desk by your side. "Tell me, Captain. Did you get this same treatment when you came back after spending all that time locked up in the gulag?"

His dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. A sigh escapes your bitten lips. That's only in your...world, for lack of a better term. Dimension? Universe?

"I haven't been to the gulag here." Yeah, obviously.

With an impatient wave of the hand that doesn't have cables strapped to it, you mutter, "Let's get on with this circus act, then. Ask your questions."

Ghost steps forward, his arms unfolding as if he's about to speak to you, but Price swiftly intervenes, halting him with a raised hand.

"Alright then. Baseline questions first. Name." Ghost gives away nothing when you say your last name is Riley.

It goes like this for a few, then he switches to the control questions, until finally moving on to the relevant ones.

"How did you get here?" I don't know.

"Do you know why you're here?" No.

He pulls up a photograph. "Recognize him?" Captain MacTavish.

Another photo. "Him?" I don't know.

"What do you mean by that?" If that's Roach, I've never seen his face unmasked.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Unless that man's name is Gary Sanderson, no. I do not know him.

Price acknowledges your response with a nod, then shifts his gaze towards Ghost, whose head slightly tilts forward. Returning his attention to you, he retrieves a final photograph. "What about him?"

As you look at the picture, your eyes begin to well with tears, lip trembling violently. A new fracture reverberated through your tender heart, intensifying the ache in your chest. Yes.

"Who is he?" Price softly asks.

"That's my Simon," your voice broke on the last syllable. It was hard to not use a possessive adjective when the face of your husband was in that picture.

Blinking the tears away, you clear your throat. "Anything else, Captain?"

Price purses his lips under his hefty facial hair and responds, "Just a few more questions."

Once finished, you sat unabashedly staring at Ghost in the tiny room. "I wear Roach's tags alongside yours, in honor. He was with you until the very end, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful."

Ghost is completely silent, but you continue talking anyway. "I've been married to you since a bit after you came home on leave that one time. You know the one."

His eyes are emotionless, blank, as he stares at you. But you know him like the back of your hand. You've got his full attention.

"I accompanied you to your brother's wedding. He married a woman, Beth. She was good for him. They had a baby, your nephew, named Joseph. The love you had for him was one of a kind. I had told you later that evening that I dreamed of the day you'd look at our children like that."

With a shuddery breath, you tell him how none of those matters. Because your husband is dead, and you're stuck here. With his counterpart that hates you.

With a hushed click, the door closes shut behind him as he leaves, yet its resounding noise fills the compact room you're in.

You begin to fidget with the sizeable ring that hangs on a thin necklace beneath your shirt— the metal is warm under your touch as if it had never gone cold in the first place.

As if Simon had never taken it off his finger to go find Makarov.

ah theyre short but hurt. much pain.

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[ssahotchnerr]

Hotch x BAU!reader where maybe it’s their first Christmas together and reader is trying to be sneaky asking everyone what to get hotch/if he’ll like what they got him & he overhears and is just mush because of course he’s going to like what you buy him 😞😞😞 you thought of him and wanted him to have it how could he not like it

a gift that keeps on giving

cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, some suggestive remarks/themes, fluff 🥰🥰 wc; 1.1k

A string of garland adorned with twinkling lights, undoubtedly Garcia's doing, paved Aaron's way. Draped on the walls, they colorfully led him down the hallway towards his destination; while he also offered stiff, yet friendly nods to the colleagues he passed.

It had been a quiet yet busy work day, full of end of year paperwork. The team had been rifling through case reports and settling stagnant matters all morning, a necessity before January.

Upon organizing one of his desk drawers, Aaron had found miscellaneous papers that would serve Garcia more purpose than he. So he decided to take a breather, stretch his legs, and venture down to Penelope's bat cave to hand them over.

Her door was slightly ajar as he neared, and before he could raise his knuckle to announce his presence, he heard your voice coming from inside, causing him to halt.

"Penny, I really don't know." You frustratedly admitted, and just by the tone Aaron could visualize the strained look on your face - the muscles in your forehead pulled taut, your eyes laced with trouble. "I'm awful."

Penelope scoffed in response, a tame laugh accompanying her release of air. The click-clacking of her keyboard was also present, "I wouldn't go that far."

A knot tightened in his stomach, a silent unease. Awful was not amongst the words he would use to describe you, ever. So the reason as to why you claimed such, he had no idea. Was something terribly wrong? Was it girl drama? Him drama?

He considered leaving, giving Garcia the files at a later time. As this conversation was happening in private, it didn't sound too dire, so his gut told him to remain. He leaned a bit closer to the open crack, straining his ears to hear the conversation inside.

In addition, he also nervously tossed a look behind his shoulder every so often, to ensure no one caught him subtly lurking.

"And I guarantee you Aaron," You said, which caused his ears to perk more, crossing your arms against your chest. "Isn't having the same dilemma."

His confused expression, as well was your frustration, was soon interrupted by a laugh exiting you. It was the pure, genuine one that could turn Aaron's day around in a second, one he couldn't help but smile at. Even now, the sides of his lips lifted.

"Don't give me that look!"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm so used to hearing Hotch that hearing anyone referring to him as his government name catches me by surprise. Like, we're talking about him? Boss man? And in a lovey dovey way too? It's so oddly foreign in the best possible way."

"But what should I get him?" Your tone faltered, the lightness leaving it again as your foot lightly stomped against the carpet.

It dawned on him, clarity filling his mind. Christmas. You were inquiring on what to get him, in result of being stuck, and enlisted Penelope for assistance.

"Rhetorically, this should be easy." You confessed as your tone switched once more - the affection gushing in your voice, as you gushed about him. "He's a simple man. Practical. And after this year, or call it the profiler in me whatever, I feel as if I know him better than I know myself. But when it comes to thinking of a gift, I'm drawing a blank. A complete blank."

"Well you can't go wrong with... a new tie? You know he'll get many uses out of that. Or just clothes to begin with. If you know him so well, you know what he looks good in. Like that one blue button-up you got him!"

Aaron's expression quirked. Thanks Garcia.

"Yeah..." You agreed, chewing on your lower lip in thought. "But that's safe. Not special."

"Oh!" A devious smile graced Penelope's face, swiveling in her chair and she playfully grabbing onto your arm. "How about you become the gift. Surprise him with a new lingerie set? Have him unwrap you."

Blush immediately crept onto Aaron's cheeks at Garcia's suggestion, one he could get behind. The image of you in such attire clouded his mind pleasantly. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow. Cool it, Aaron.

"Noted." You laughed and meant it, sobering for a moment before continuing. "But that's more of a birthday, anniversary type present. Not something he can open under the tree Christmas morning."

"Eh, if you say so sunshine. I don't think you can go wrong with that. It'll be the gift that keeps on giving."

Enticing thoughts aside, Aaron's face softened; a delicate, warm feeling starting in the middle of his chest and spreading outward.

Although he wished you weren't so conflicted, and despite how much he wanted to march in there, and insist you needn't worry, he felt tremendously touched that you cared to such an extent.

Anything you gave him, anything, would be special as it came from you. Truthfully, he wasn't surprised you had hit a wall in terms of ideas. Just as you said, you knew him perfectly - he wasn't a materialistic type. He himself couldn't recall one thing he wanted.

Mainly because he already had all he ever longed for. You.

Just being able to say he was yours was the greatest gift of all. The past year has been unexpected, just as you had been. Admittedly, even since you joined the BAU, he had a soft spot for you. There was something about you that had intrigued him from the start.

Not only were you kind, considerate, but you brought possibility back into his life. His always negative what ifs, had turned into what ifs, in a newfound light, because of you. You taught him to be open to all life had to offer again.

After hour paperwork sessions in his office led to late night dinners - at any joint that was still open. They then turned into not-so-late night dinners, when he finally took the initiative to ask you on a proper date. It unraveled from there - you met Jack, resulting in an effortless bond. You and Aaron quickly made things official, and it only took you six short months to move in.

You made him feel as if, somehow, loving him was easy. That with all his baggage considered, you still viewed him as someone worth loving.

Again, what more could he ask for besides that?

You exhaled as you straightened your posture, pushing past your frustrations and remaining optimistic. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure it out. I still have plenty of time, right?"

"Oh sweetie I'm positive you will. It'll strike you outta nowhere and you'll be thinking why didn't I just think of this in the first place." Penelope waved her hand in the air, unbothered. "I'm not worried. Whatever it is, you know he'll love it."

And come December 25th, Aaron entirely did.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When they are your guardian/teacher figure

(This idea has been requested by several lovelies and anons who wished something along those lines. It was a long while back, so I apologize if I couldn’t tag or respond to one specific ask.) 

(Platonic, gn reader is a child. Short domestic satire)

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (+ small Arlecchino bonus)

✧ Due to some mysterious circumstances that were too irrelevant to reiterate, Pierro was known to attend to all matters regarding your well-being. Though the Jester himself seldom graced the Palace of Snezhnaya, the sight of a diminutive, silent child was even rarer. That small, elusive child – was you.

“As your knowledge blossoms, so will you understand the merit of growth. The more hunger for knowledge you possess, the greater your intellectual progress shall become.” – The Jester spoke formally, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed off into the snowy horizon behind the window. “To withhold knowledge is to forsake power, and thus, you must wield it as a weapon.”

But when Pierro turns to face his audience, all he can see is your peering eyes barely peeking from the enormous desk. Sitting on the armchair that is way too big for you, your short legs barely touch the ground. And it doesn’t help that Pierro’s words are perhaps too… eloquent for someone your age. 

“That is to say, little one, I am telling you forgot to do your homework. Again.”  

You blinked.

“Little one,” – Pierro began carefully, his eyes narrowing. He knew your innocent silence was a cunning sign. Sensing his suspicion, you hopped off the armchair with agile speed and darted away. “Little one-! Return here at once!”

But your small form carried you off in the palace hallways, hopping under tables and chairs, you tested Pierro’s resilience as he chased you. Panting and screaming that you’ll “never succumb to the enemy” that is your homework; you refused your academic tasks and yearned to be what you truly are - a menace to the Jester’s sanity. 

Yet despite the countless times you ran away like a little criminal and the many times that the Harbinger caught you swiftly in his gloved arms, he could never raise his voice at you. His scoldings would be met with sulking. Your woeful expression always softened his sternness, leaving him with two outcomes: either you would tire him out by running, or he would tire you out by following you.

And as the night wore on, the result always remained the same. Both of you found yourselves dozing in an armchair, wrapped in a cozy blanket, and lulled into slumber by the crackling fireplace. Pierro nodded off gracefully, his head resting gently on his knuckles, while you, enveloped in sleep and warmth, lay cradled in his arms, protected from guilt in the peace of Pierro's private sanctuary. Running around does tire one out, after all. 

✧ Impressive in his ominous stature, Il Capitano towered above the smaller child. Despite your shy demeanor, you still stuck closely to Il Capitano's side, often hiding behind his coat; your hands clutching the fur as you shielded yourself from the intimidating Fatui troops working alongside him. 

Capitano, however, harbored reservations. The training grounds were no suitable habitat for a small one like you. He was hardly a natural caregiver and yet, he knelt beside you, his pitch-black visage peering straight down at your awestruck expression. He expected his unwelcoming helmet would frighten you off, yet all you did was place your tiny palms on his helmet and exclaim: “Capi!”

“This place is not for a child like you. You shouldn't wander around these parts, darling. They are dangerous and you're much too small for the many sharp weapons stored here.”

You smiled at him, curiously trying to reach for the golden chains around his helmet. It seems you weren't afraid of him.

“You may be a fearless little warrior, but you must stay on your guard. What if an enemy came to swoop you up, small one?” - Capitano lifted you high, his armored hands careful so as not to poke your smaller figure. You just emitted a small happy “wee!” in response.

How easy it is to crack a knight's exterior solely with a childlike smile. 

That's how you found yourself under his protective wing, never once heeding his warning as you continued to follow him diligently. Whenever the Harbinger was training, you watched. Whenever he did his usual warm-up push-ups, you tried to mimic. You obviously failed and quickly plopped onto the floor by the second push-up. 

“Easy there,” - Capitano offered you to sit cross-legged on his back while he continued his pushups. You were much smaller anyway, so whether you hung on his forearms whenever he lifted weights or did pushups, it barely posed a physical challenge. You, however, were beyond gleeful to be involved in his training, your face awash in wonder as he hoisted you up with ease while you perched serenely on his back. 

It's comical how this captain's reluctance turned him into now a caretaker of a small wee one; and an excellent one at that. He often carries you around, ensuring you are eating well after he is done with his morning training, and silently relishing your little yawns whenever you fall asleep by resting your head on his shoulder. 

✧ Il Dottore sat behind his desk, the solitary glow of the desk lamp casting long chiaroscuro shadows that slithered across the lab. It was another silent night, save for his swift scribbling over scientific reports. Suddenly, The Doctor felt a tug at his leg. Humming in response, he glanced down to find none other than you looking up at him with a small bundle of your favorite comforter clutched tightly in your tiny hands. 

“Hm? Can't sleep?”

You nodded. 

With great care, Dottore lifted you to his chair and placed you beside him. One hand resumed its task, grasping his pen to scrawl his intricate research calculations, while the other rested securely on your back, ensuring you were steady on his lap. With a sleepy haze, you observed his writing - so many big words and different numbers. You pointed at one and inquired:

“Dottie… what is this word?” 

“This is pronounced ‘metamorphosis’. To describe a transformation or change from one form to another, like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.”

“Meta-fofis…” - you imitated to the best of your comprehension.

"Meta-morph-o-sis."

You parroted in a murmur, to which The Doctor rewarded you with a hair ruffle. While his reports were nearly complete, he paused, pointing to another word on the page: “And this, little one, how do you pronounce it, remember?” 

“Um, axono-trophy.” 

“Indeed, well done. And what is the meaning of Axonotrophy?”

“A condition where axons are destroyed due to disease.” 

A prideful gleam graced Il Dottore's features. Your answers reflected not only a keen absorption of the various biological terminology but also his own success in mentoring you. Perhaps for regular children, such tedious topics are far from entertaining, yet The Harbinger saw the way your eyes beamed with curiosity at the many tomes of books, reports, and vials. And he would never forbid your curiosity like his homeland once did.

“A brilliant scholar in the making, little one. Excellent job,” - he patted your hair, letting you comfortably settle on his lap to rest. You hugged your comforter as he continued to work, a big yawn escaping you. Unaware of when you succumbed to the lulls of sleep, you drifted off, cocooned in warmth and security while Dottore silently finished his reports. 

✧ Scaramouche released a vexed sigh, his patience being tested. He wasn't on a Fatui mission by any kind, yet his solitude began to wane as a smaller figure kept following him around in a less inconspicuous manner. 

“You know you're not being sneaky, right? Stop following me around, kid.”

You flinched. The Harbinger turned to glare at you and you felt even smaller as he scolded you. You hid the item you brought behind your back, trying to conceal your bruised knees and scratched little fingers.

“I’m… I'm not following around, mister,” - you defend meekly, but Scaramouche only crossed his arms. “I made you a gift!” 

What sort of present could a child even muster for a Fatui Harbinger, Scaramouche mused to himself. You looked so unkept, hair tangled, and dirt stuck to your sandals as if you stumbled somewhere around a grassy hill. The Balladeer raised an eyebrow but reluctantly obliged. He kneeled before you – “Spit it out, kid. What do you want?”

You stepped closer and with naïve determination - you handed him a crocheted little toy. It was far from a professional mastery, with some knots uneven, but the vision was clear. This little toy resembled Scaramouche, with short dark hair and a funny flat hat. 

“I made this for you! Mister looks very pretty, like a doll! So I tried… to make one.” 

Scaramouche stared silently, his lips parted. The black buttons of the round doll stared back at him. A brush of a certain memory swept him like the gentle breeze of early autumn; your bright determination, so radiant while you were so small, left him frozen. He saw all this before when he donned a different name, a different time. And although he wished to scowl and say ‘Why the hell would I want a doll?’ - he never dared to. 

Instead, he held it up carefully and muttered – “Hm, I suppose it looks like me. Not bad. You did this all on your own?” 

You nodded eagerly. The Harbinger decisively offered his hand, your smaller one clutching onto him as if he were an older sibling.

“Come on, kid. Let's get you cleaned up and tidied. Goodness knows when you last had a good meal, too.” 

✧ What a jubilant day it was for Pantalone. He has just returned from a shopping venture; his servants aiding him with bags of newly ordered accessories and state-of-the-art attires. Little you sat plopped on a soft cushion, yet even to someone as minute as you comprehend the Harbinger's energetic pacing. It was one of those days when the 9th would go on some tangent about Mora. Again. 

“You see dear, Mora is the true physical leyline of the human world,” - he stood behind you, busying himself with styling your hair delicately while you sat in front of a dresser. “It is what ensues power, gaining influence of the world's machinations.”

You watched as he proudly brushed and styled your hair, spending more time picking up the newly brought ties and accessories than actually styling.

“But there is more to it!” – Once satisfied with your tidy appearance, the Regrator picked you up in his arms, lifting you to his level. “I am not speaking about monetary gain, my little gem. I am speaking of what you value most in your life. 

With one arm securing you, his second arm reaches for various items. He sets out some precious jewelry on one side, their shiny gemstones gleaming with pristine silver. Then he set down some soft plushies. Even the Fontainian toys he purchases are of foreign mastership with unique designs. And on the other side of the dresser, the last item he placed was stacks of your favorite books and pencils. 

“Say, little one. Of all these things, which is most important for a young gem like you?” 

Pantalone held you securely in his arms, a thoughtful look on his expression as you blinked in wonder. It seems he tried to give you some sort of speech about the difference between monetary gain, hedonistic lifestyle, and the value of work. Shiny riches, toys, or books. He waited patiently for you to choose, hoping that the simple representation of items would convey the seriousness of his questions. 

You, however, simply blinked and peered at those jumbles of items. Instead, you turned to inspect him and decided on a straightforward answer: “Pantalone!”

So you just wrapped your arms around him. 

The Harbinger tried not to weep. He never considered himself an option when comparing his value to Mora. He embraced you tightly in response, you were already wiser than him in many regards.

 ✧ the 11th of The Fatui Harbingers, Tartaglia, was no more. Now there is only the Greatest Toy Salesman in Snezhnaya. Or so would be his title if it was a synonym for beating bad monsters because you believed it most earnestly. 

Eagerly, you followed whenever Childe was training, thinking that the shiny big weapons were something of joyous intrigue. The young harbinger would drop everything at once and swoop you in a hurry before you touch the sharp blades. 

Interesting gauntlets worn by Anemoboxer Vanguards? Touch. 

Interesting pyro-infused rifles held by Pyroslinger Bracers? Touch. 

Dual blades gleaming whenever Pyro Agents tossed them? Also must touch.

All that and more were followed by Tartaglia’s hurried ‘No!’ as he rushed to your side. You were a small bundle of energy. And suddenly Childe realized how much of a nuisance he must've been to his dad when he was younger.

“Kid, how many times have I told you,” - he sighed, pulling you up over his shoulder. “Touching is a no-no if something is sharp!”

Hence, to put your curiosity into use, Childe made a miniature wooden bow for you, your new toy. Decisive in teaching you the baby steps of handling a bow, Tartaglia considered himself to be well off in the art of shooting lately; his posture even became better when aiming the weapon. This will be a good start to mentor you.

You were ecstatic, even if your arrows would plummet to the ground or way behind the shooting range. After all, similar to your curiosity, Ajax was also once a restless child like you. 

✧ You stared up at the red crossed-out pupils boring into your soul. The tall lady stared back, her gaze locked into a cold narrowed shape. Arlecchino regarded you carefully, seeing your hesitation when you noticed her ashen black hands. Was it your child-like curiosity or fear that struck you to freeze still? Because the 4th of Fatui Harbingers knew the scent of gullible reticence.

“Go on now. Why the hesitation, child? Something struck your curiosity or is it fear?”

You stayed still, mustered up your courage, and stated: “Eyes… pretty! Red and black.” 

Father’s narrowed gaze falters. It seems she misjudged you, you weren’t skittish like the usual little youngsters. A spirit of curiosity at such a young age must be nurtured. Thus, The Knave offered her hand, and your smaller one eagerly held onto it, inspecting the unique markings on her fingers. 

“Hm, if it's a curiosity of the unknown you are displaying, then you must be a brave little one. But if it's flattery you’re trying to achieve, then know that it will get you nowhere.”

You obediently picked up the pace, walking alongside her, hand in hand, while Arlecchino’s heels clacked against the floor. Her shadow cast upon your smaller one, enveloping you like an unassailable eclipse against the world. 

(as always, thank you everyone for the kind words and messages! Dw I see and read your asks❣)

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Yamaha XT500: slowing down

Contents: bts of Yamaha XT500, providing context of their conversation, slight sexual language, angsty, inappropriate workplace behaviour?

You’re nervous. 

The past week has been uncomfortable and awkward. Your boss was preoccupied with another girl, and you know you shouldn’t be jealous; she’s a client. But to watch him be so attentive, so patient, and so accommodating of another girl, it made your chest hurt. 

There you were, sitting behind your desk with a smile, waiting to greet your boss but he’d barely glance at you, gliding past to his office without even a word. When you’d bring him coffee, he wouldn’t even look up, he’d just continue scribbling or typing on his computer. 

Sure, he was busy. 

Everyone was. 

But it wasn’t right for him to give you so much attention the first couple months and then take it all away like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Your sister said it hurts a lot for you because it’s your first love, and whilst you’re not sure that what you’re feeling for Suguru is love indeed, you still appreciate that you’re new to this whole thing. 

Why are men such mysteries?

How ever did Helen of Troy, or rather of Sparta, circumvent this maze?

The romance books you’ve read couldn’t give any insight. They all somehow follow the same pattern of ‘boy meets girl, they like each other, boy hurts girl, boy kisses girl, and girl forgives boy, and they live happily ever after’.

And pardon your French, but that just seems like utter lunacy!

Technically, Suguru hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just doing his job. But he still hurt you and you can’t give in to his sweet words and pet names, no matter how they make you blush and press your thighs together.

So, after his messages insisting you have lunch together, you wait out at the front of the studio. It’s getting colder and you wish you had brought a thicker jacket, but you only have your sister’s hoodie. You hope she isn’t walking around town today otherwise she’ll rip it right off you. 

It’s only fair you take her jacket when she took your heels to go to a party, sneaking past your room like the little devil that she is. 

“Ready to go, pretty?”

There it is again. 

That smooth tone and heart-fluttering pet name. You’re blushing again when you turn to meet his eyes. He’s so tall, kind eyes smiling at you as he closes the door. He takes a quick sweep of your figure before he sighs and drapes a scarf over your shoulders, tying a knot so that your neck is all warm and cozy. 

Don’t fall for it!

You thank him and then step aside so he can lead the way. Both of you stroll through the neighbourhood, smiling at passersby and weaving around tourists who take up the entire pavement. Having watched a bunch of romance shows too, you’re painfully aware of the fact that he’s following the sidewalk rule, standing as a barrier between you and the road. 

It was a seamless move, done as if on autopilot, as if he’s simply the type to sacrifice himself. He’s a really good boss. Always choosing to stay overtime to finish up on paperwork instead of letting another member of staff handle it, taking the brunt of complaints and nasty customers, and his officer door’s always open for his employees. 

Except, of course, that one time when you had shut it so you could have a little…well, you don’t know what to call it. But whatever it was, it’s been stuck in your mind since then. And you can’t even count the number of times you’ve cum to the thought of it, to the feel of his hands on you. 

Thank goodness your sister’s out so often.

“The weather’s taking a turn for the worse, you should start wearing thicker clothes,” he advises. 

You tuck your chin into his scarf, smelling that familiar scent of musk and late nights, and the faintest hint of gasoline. When he glances down at you, you nod.

“Yeah, I will.”

Earlier in the week you had ran into your friend. She was frazzled over the lawsuit against the university and the ugly professor, hands frantically typing away and hair tied up haphazardly in her unofficial spot in the corner of the library, facing the south windows. 

You hesitated to talk to her in case she was really busy and would feel burned by a conversation, but when she saw you, she let out a genuine, but strained smile. The case had been taking a lot from her. You admire her so much. Always so hardworking, so easy to approach, and so eager to help, no matter what she’s going through. 

She pushed her laptop to the side and gestured for you to sit. And for half an hour straight, you complained about your problems with your boss. Looking back now, you can only cringe at the memory. How thoughtless of you. It’d be wise to avoid any pool of water, lest you fall into your own reflection. 

But she still took the time to hear you out and give advice.

“I don’t really know this Suguru person, but it does sound like he was genuinely busy. I think it’d be good to hear what he has to say and go from there.”

And of course that makes sense. It’s rational, logical, the kind of thinking a law student would have. Perhaps you should have gone to a drama student who would have told you to faint in front of him and pull at his heartstrings. 

Before you know it, you reach a cafe. 

Suguru lets you in first, placing a hand at your back to direct you to a table by the window. It’s a seat with a great view of a park, the leaves have turned various shades of orange and red, drifting downwards in spirals, descending with grace. 

You sit in front of him, unravelling the scarf and placing it on your lap. Oddly enough, as you both look over the menu, it doesn’t feel awkward like you had been expecting. 

It feels normal. 

Like you’ve done this a million times before. 

And it’s only once the server takes your orders, that you both look at each other. He’s still smiling both with his lips and his eyes, and it’s the kindest, most reassuring smile you’ve ever seen. The kind of smile you find yourself searching for in every stranger, only to come up empty-handed. 

But there’s something else there, resting on his features. The crinkles by his eyes are ever so slightly more visible, and the circles under them are just tiniest shade darker. Suguru’s really been worked to the bone recently. 

“Is the campus more chaotic than usual? With the protests and all.”

You shrug. “A little. People are really upset with Eden’s decision to only suspend Professor Mahito despite the mounting evidence against him.”

Suguru nods thoughtfully, accepting the drinks that the server brings over. You’ve opted for a hot chocolate and he’s drinking coffee. He doesn’t tease you over your order of extra whipped cream like your sister does.

“And you believe the accusations?”

“Of course!” You say that with a little more passion than intended, likely feeling offended he even needed to ask. You’re embarrassed but he doesn’t laugh at you, only lifts his cup to hide his amused smile.

He’s always smiling. 

But most times it never feels genuine. 

After a sip of his coffee, he adds, “I believe them too. Much of the pro-Mahito rhetoric centres around his work as a professor, but not much about his character. And if I may, my run-ins with him during my time were never particularly pleasant.”

You nod. “I just hope it all gets settled on. Everyone deserves peace.”

Something about what you said pleased him because then his smile is widening and he places his cup down and leans back in his chair. You know what this means; he’s going to get serious. 

The talk is going to happen now. 

“About my client,” you suck in a breath, “you think she was something more?”

Biting your lip, you consider your words very carefully. “I think you gave her special attention. One that you don’t give to any other client, not even celebrities.”

The food arrives and you glance up at him before taking a bite, wondering why he isn’t answering immediately. Is he considering his words carefully too? If he is, what does that mean for you? Is he doing it because he doesn’t want to hurt you or because he doesn’t want to let you in any more than he must to keep the peace?

Your mind is racing, and you chew without even really tasting your food. 

His finger taps against his fork, and then he drops his smile and sits up straight. 

“You’re right. She wasn’t just another client. She was special.”

A chill pierces your chest. It stuns you, rendering you frozen, forced to bathe in the words like a cold plunge. You want to throw up and run. But you’re pinned to your seat with his steely gaze. It’s insistence, urging you to listen. You can’t look away. Not when, even at the worst moment of the time you’ve had with him, he still looks so mesmerising, a marble statue carved only with the most ardour and the brightest hope for mankind. 

Suguru lets out a breath, perhaps relieved you haven’t left. At least he understands why you would. He owed you that much at least. 

“There are clients,” he begins with an authoritative tone as if his words are factual and you’re captivated by the musical cadence of his warmth, like he’s telling you a bedtime story, “who come, not with money but, with stories.”

You don’t really know where he’s going but you place your cutlery down and reach for your mug of hot chocolate like its searing heat could keep you grounded, keeps you tethered to the ground and protected from his lulling voice, a pied-piper amongst normal men. 

“They’ve been seen the darkness the world has to offer, ventured into places we can’t even fathom. And certainly, places I would never wish for you to have been.”

Something about his cautioning words compel you to nod.

When his fingertip touches yours and sends a tingle through your hand, following the veins, you realise he’s inched his hand closer, to feel yours, even just to feel the atoms breathe near other seems to calm him. Perhaps he needs tethering too.

“Riko was special -is- special. She’s a girl who’s been through a lot.”

You’re breathless, dazed from the feel of his skin. You want to pull away so you can have clarity of mind, but you can’t. “She’s been to those places?”

Suguru nods, a bitter flash crossing his features. 

“She was running from people who wanted to take from her. Who only ever saw her as a vessel and not as a person. And she’s come very far on her own. She wanted something to remind her of who she is. Not a little girl, not a vessel or a mere victim, but a survivor.”

Your lip trembles. 

The girl you had seen was so bright, she grinned with mischief and spoke with so much energy you felt invigorated just by listening, even when you didn’t want to. The extent of what she’s faced is something your mind just cannot venture to. And you’re wracked with guilt, it gnaws at your heart, squeezing in punishment. 

You might throw up for a whole different reason. 

This entire time you had been cursing her out in your head, feeling jealous of all the attention she was getting, but it never even occurred to you that she might have needed the attention, needed to feel normal and cared for, in the way you do. 

You lick your lips, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate there and force your features to lighten. “I understand. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Suguru doesn’t look convinced, and he opens his mouth to carry on but you only press your finger to his like one would boop a baby on the nose. It’s what your father does to you and your sister when you argue, an effective way of disorienting you enough to shut you up. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever done it but it works wonders because your boss only tilts his head and watches your hand do it again. His expression lightens too. 

There’s a renewed atmosphere to the table, like a veil had been lifted; you hadn’t realised just how heavy it all was until you’re grinning and spooning more food into your mouth. 

“She’s okay now, though?”

And when Suguru nods, you’re pleased with the answer. Truly.

Wherever Riko is, whatever she’s doing, you hope she’s safe. And above all, happy. And if she must return to Uzumaki for solace, for protection, for friendship, you swear there and then, you’d welcome her with open arms. 

“Did you hear about Gojo’s fiancee?” 

Suguru laughs, images of his best friend’s faces flashing in his eyes. “Have I ever? Satoru hasn’t stopped complaining. He spams me day in and day out, sends a bunch of voicemails to both my personal and work phones, and when I wouldn’t answer, he’s been showing up at work.”

You’re giggling. “I know! Nowadays he just walks in and groans at me that you’ve abandoned in his ‘time of need’, whatever that means.”

There’s a softness in his tone, even as he makes fun of his friend, and you feel its embrace when he admits, “Satoru’s always been very dramatic, but he’ll be fine.”

“My sister says his fiancee’s like the complete opposite of him, appearance-wise. Something about being goth?”

“I’ve met her,” he smirks when you gasp. “Don’t look so surprised. You forget I was once a student at Eden. She and I were classmates. And she’s going to him a run for his money.”

The conversation continues with laughter, a feather-like lightness carrying you both along. For two hours, even well after both of your plates are empty, you chat. You update him on what you’ve been up to for the past week, rambling about the most mundane things like they were a crisis and he nods along, never once interrupting, as if content to sit there for however long and listen. 

And when you walk back to the studio, there isn’t a moment of silence. Not even when both of you have stopped talking. 

This is perhaps the only time since you began working at Uzumaki that you’ve spoken, not as boss and employee, and not even as two people with an inexplicable tension of the sexual kind. But rather as friends. 

It felt good. 

To know where you stand with someone. 

Sitting back down behind your desk and watching Suguru flash you another smile before he retreats into his office, you reach a conclusion. 

Friendship is good for you and him. 

You need it before anything else. 

And those are the terms he’ll have to agree with.

[kurogxrix]

Look Don’t Touch

Dad!Mob!Bucky Barnes x Mom!reader

IN WHICH you accidentally walk onto your husband and his men during a meeting, clad in nothing else but a tight fitting top and a baby in your arms. The sight is enough to send the many men drooling, but Bucky reminds them that you’re only his to look at, and will always be.

WC: 2.1k

You wished you could have turned back to the few seconds you’d lived through before stumbling into your Husband’s office door. The silence in the room was deafening, at least for you it was. Alpine was all the least bothered, the white cat jumping across furniture to furniture without disturbing the decorations within. Your footsteps faltered quickly, suddenly stuck in your spot as you fell under the eyes of the familiar people that sat around the long meeting table. Men to be exact, the same exact group of men that had always been there to accidentally witness too far into yours and Bucky’s marriage.

Over the course of your relationship with Bucky, there had been one too many times where your husband’s men had caught you in compromising positions. Given that you were posed in such, you were always clad in near to nothing. The most you’d get to cover yourself with during  those unfortunate times that you’ve gotten caught was either the thin material of yours and Bucky’s bed sheet, or his discarded suit jacket as he pounded you from behind on his work desk. One too many times of embarrassment and humiliation on your side.

You were sort of sure that Bucky’s eyes were literally shining at the mere sight of you. Although he wasn’t the only one that was caught in a trance after your sudden appearance. The sight of you clad in nothing else but that fitting tank top that you'd wear to sleep was enough to make a grown man shiver. 

The stretchy fabric pressed around all the right areas, and the extras clung around your protruding belly. God and how much you hated that, your postpartum body that you’d glare at in the midst of the night while your baby laid sleeping. How It would take so much time for it to go, and how much you’d wish to have your old body back. Though Bucky loved it, he’d never fail to remind you of how beautiful you were, of how normal this all was because you had literally been carrying a whole baby inside of there. 

You knew how much your husband loved the sight of that little belly of yours, but you’d never be able to tell how much it aroused the others as well. All of the eyes were on you, especially on how your breast threatened to spill out of the U-cut top that you wore. You were very well aware of the change, and how could you not? No matter the size that your breasts had been before, that had now tripled, if not quadrupled during pregnancy. They were so sore and heavy from carrying so much milk, and you cursed your husband for giving you a baby that required so much milk. 

Not that you were genuinely complaining though, you loved your son more than yourself, and it didn’t matter if you had to suffer for him. You would and you were. 

Nevertheless, you staggered for a second as you closed the door, suddenly very aware of the group of men that watched you and your baby gurgling across your chest. You adjusted your hand to pat along your baby’s back, standing up straighter as you shivered under all the eyes. No, you weren’t embarrassed because of your attire. In fact you couldn’t care less about that, you showing skin had never been a sore spot in yours and Bucky’s relationship, he had no concerns with you wearing revealing clothes.

In fact he loved that you loved your body enough to do so. At the start of your relationship it was hard for you to even open up to him about your naked skin, after being put down by the other men that were now an awful part of your past. He was by no means an insecure man, and you were by no means an unfaithful woman, so everything worked out as it should. 

Furthermore, Bucky loved the sight of those snobby men checking you out at every given moment that he’d be far from your reach. He loved the sight of seeing those desperate men tracing your form as though to map it in their minds, a memory that they’d keep until they’d finally arrive home late at night, hands sinfully low in the shower as cold ran down their backs. 

Bucky loved watching those scums approach you as though they had a chance, before seeing you mouth what you’d always say. “Not interested, I'm married.”  before shoving your ringed finger in their face, a wicked grin plastered on your face before turning around to look for your loving husband. It was funny to him, watching their downturned expressions and you’d stare at your ring with such admiration, so much love that you held for him and him only. 

Though on the few unfortunate nights where those ratty men just refused to understand, he’d make sure to make his way to you. Towering over the men no matter their height, an intimidating look crowding his face as he keeps his arms around your form. He made sure to send one of his men after the cowering scum at the end of the night, and much to your confusion, you’d somewhat never seen them again after that.  

It was a funny sight at first, seeing your 6 foot tall, tatted mafia boyfriend getting all giddy because you’d confessed that you were finally confident enough in your skin to start wearing more open clothes. You were wearing those clothes by your own want and will, because of your newfound confidence and self love that you developed because of him. Your loving, mafia boyfriend that was now your husband, and inevitably the father of your child.

Now as you stood in Bucky’s office, you were simply embarrassed because you’d accidently interrupted your husband’s meeting, the defect of your motherly brain, you’d forgotten to knock before entering. Now everyone stared at you like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck. 

“Detka, is there anything that you’re looking for? Anything you need?” you watched as Bucky stood up from his chair at the head of the table, making his way towards you as the heels of his expensive Italian dress shoes clicked against the marble floor. You wanted nothing more but to melt onto a puddle at the sound of his gentle tone, and your fatigue did nothing to help ease that thought. 

“A-actually I was going to ask you if you were hungry but now I see that you’re busy so, I’ll just ask again later,” you stuttered, rambling your thoughts as you urged to leave the room. If not careful, you could’ve slipped alongside your innocent baby as you left the room, but Bucky couldn’t just let you go like that. Sure he wanted to ask you what was wrong, stop you and demand why you’d rush out of the room. Not out of preeminence, but out of worry. 

Though it was obvious by your nervously racking eyes and straight posture that you wanted nothing else than to leave the room, he followed you instead. Carefully clicking the door shut behind him, he left his men inside of the room to wonder by themselves. Bucky considered them family, like brothers, so they’d understand. He was sure of it. 

Bucky turned around after closing the door, catching you bouncing your son back to sleep after you’d heard his weak grumbling. Your husband watched with heart eyes as the little Lev raises his even tinier fists to your chest, throwing an unreasoned angry fit against his poor momma. A raspy chuckle escapes Bucky’s throat as your son’s fists come crashing down against your collarbone rather robotically, and it’s not strong enough to even hurt you, but odd enough to startle you for a second. 

Finally deciding to snap out of his awfully lovestruck trance, he sauntered towards you. The palm of his hand was warm against your arm, and it somewhat comforted you as you relished in his touch. “What’s wrong malyshka? Everything’s alright? Hope little Lev isn’t causing you too much trouble, god knows how loud he’s already been since this morning.” your husband joked, but you shuddered at the memory of getting begrudgingly out of bed at 4 in the morning because of your yelling baby.

Your heart picked up the pace at the sound of the nickname he’d reserved for you, and you felt yourself going shy before the very own man that’d seen every part of you, beyond and inside. Everything. 

“I was making lunch and I was going to bring it to you, but I forgot to knock and look at where that brought me.” you laughed off the memory now that it was over, there was no need to drown in remorse over such a silly thing. Bucky’s eyes flashed towards the side table that laid against the wall near the huge doors of his meeting room, and apparently you had no free hands either because there laid a plate of his abandoned lunch upon the smooth wooden surface of the table. 

It was his favourite dish, and Bucky unconsciously smiled at the thought of you being so keen to bring it to him because of that. Your husband’s baby blue eyes racked your body once more, taking notice of the pair of oversized sweatpants that you were wearing, those that were so obviously his. The sweats were so big on you that the strings upon your waist were painfully tightened, but no matter how many pairs of your own that your husband would buy you, no matter the price or top notch quality, you’d always find more comfort in his old, worn out ones that he’d beg you to throw away. 

“You’re so beautiful, Malyshka. Thank you for the food, I'll have it as soon as I'm done with my meeting.” his warm, large palm cupped your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relishing in his love before he leaves to tend to his work once more. Sure, you’d see him in a couple of minutes, and his free time would last until tomorrow morning, but you wanted to be with him 24/7. 

Bucky’s eyes then trailed down towards Lev, who was peacefully drooling away with his head squished against your chest. With his thumb still rubbing soothingly at your cheek, Bucky signalled you to go relax with Lev until he orders his men out, then motioned to one of the nearby maids to take his plate back to the kitchen until he was done, just so you didn’t have to move your pinky more than you needed to. 

With you back in the comfort of your plush king sized bed alongside your son, and Bucky’s consciousness now at peace, he made his way back towards the heavy doors of his meeting room. The look on his face changed as soon as the doors clicked shut once more, and this time, the softened look completely left his features. There were no more signs of tenderness upon Bucky’s face. 

The change was intimidatingly scary, his face now completely still and the menacing glow in his eyes did nothing to soothe them. For, it wasn’t like Bucky’s team believed that they were innocent. You didn't need to be hawk-eyed to see that they were obviously ogling you, their boss's wife, and the mother of his child at that. 

Rolling up the sleeves of his suit jacket, the exposed sight of his fully tattooed arm made the grown men shiver. Forlorn excuses of men lowered their heads as Bucky walked past them, a sign of respect as though they hadn’t just snubbed him by looking a little too hard at what was his. 

Yes, Bucky would call these people his brothers, and yes he did appreciate them when times came.

He often took the role of the eldest in the family. He was highly respected upon the mob, and he cared for them as they did for him. Yet living under his roof required to obey the rules that he had set up, and the most important one was; look, don't touch. 

Though they’d manage to abide by that rule for as long as they’d set foot inside his home, they were truly starting to test their luck. Tonight, Bucky would make sure that none of them returned to their rooms without being taught a new additional rule. Perhaps this one would take the top place above  the previous one, and this time, there’d be no more looking allowed. 

-

i profoundly apologize to y’all bcuz this is my first Bucky ff and idk wtf this is

[e-nonsense]

DAD I’M FROM THE FUTURE

pairing. bruce wayne x daughter!reader

warnings. time travel shenanigans, canon typical violence

summary. reader is Bruce’s daughter from the future.

a/n. i was watching the batman trilogy last night and this came to me. doesn’t follow the dark knight timeline, gonna do a battinson one later.

You’d gotten yourself in quite the situation, messing around in Central City helping out the speedsters with their problems and then accidentally getting yourself thrown back in time. You landed somewhere familiar at least, Gotham City just.. older, less advanced.

From when you were younger, lucky for you the people of Gotham tried to mind their business, nobody spared a glance at the girl in a batsuit, dark purple and a gold orange. Despite the streets looking different the path wasn’t.

You worked your way across the rooftops, swiftly and agile. You made it to Wayne manor in a matter of minutes, going through an open window on the highest floor and creeping through the halls quietly and down to entrance of the cave.

Pressing the three notes on the piano in the centre of the room the hidden door behind the glass shelves swinging open, you step through into the old elevator, going down.

What you don’t know is that Bruce is already waiting for you down there, watching on the cameras. “Who is that?” He asks Alfred, who merely shrugs in response. “Not a clue, Master Bruce.”

The elevator hits the underground floor, before you twist to the side out of the way of a batarang coming your way. “What the hell?” You scowl, dodging when you’re lunged at, you move to hit back but are stopped by Bruce’s hand catching your wrist.

“Let go,” you mutter, he doesn’t budge. “Bruce!” You shout, the name foreign on your tongue.

You see his eyes widen behind the mask and he steps back, “how do you know my name?”

“Let go and I’ll explain.” You retort, his eyes scan your suit, hardened Kevlar plates on titanium-dipped tri-weave fibres, just like his suit.

“Fine,” he releases your wrist, crossing his arms and watching as you pull your mask off. “I’m from the future,” you say, “a future where you’re my dad.”

Alfred chokes on the tea he was drinking and Bruce shoots him a look. “You don’t believe me, i get it. No proof, but dad— Bruce you gotta believe me. Everything i know is because of you.”

Bruce stares, “why’d i take you in?”

He almost smiles at the look that flashes through your eyes, hope, care, pride. “You saved me, you saved all of us. We were like you, orphaned, well me and Dick at least. You didn’t want us to go down the same path as you did, so you taught us.”

Something about you reminded Bruce of himself, a version of him that was happy, younger. “Why’re you here?” He asks, hesitantly taking his mask off, you know better it’s a show of trust, he’s giving you a chance.

“You know Flash? I got mixed up helping out speedsters, got into a fight and thrown back in time. Not sure how long I’ll be here until they figure where in time I’m stuck.” You say, “but shouldn’t be too long.”

“Hm,” he hums gruffly, you don’t take offence to his lack of response, it’d be more concerning if he gave you actual words. Your eyes flicker to the array of screens behind you, case files on the desk, pictures of bodies. “The Riddler case?” You ask, Bruce raises a brow at you.

“You know about it?”

“I’m a little rusty on the details but i can help?” He doesn’t say no as he turns away, despite this not being your Bruce, you could still read him.

MEANWHILE

Barry grunts as he’s slammed into the wall, Bruce scowling down at him. “What do you mean you lost her?” Bruce hisses.

“I mean she’s gone, Bruce. Thrown through time,” Barry groans, breathily due to the way Bruce’s forearm is pressed to his neck.

“Bruce, cmon. We need him to get her back,” Dick, ever the voice of reason.

“We have other speedsters,” Bruce scoffs, his signature glare present. Despite wanting to break every bone is Barry’s body, Bruce lets him go. “How do we find her?”

“Thats easier, magic.” He hears from behind, Zatara.

“This isn’t a league mission,” Bruce mutters.

“But you need us,” Dick adds, Bruce doesn’t deny it, he’s not a speedster or a sorcerer. Dick takes his silence as a ‘good to go’, motioning for the rest of them to begin. “This is hers,” Dick says, handing Zatara a fluffy blanket with the Flash logo on the back.

Barry can’t help the little smile that crosses his lips, you’ve always been one of his biggest fans. he remembers the first time he met you, you were at least seven years old, and you just stared at him silently. eyes wide with adoration, and later you mentioned the Flash being your hero.

His smile drops when he sees the glare Bruce throws his way.

—

“So dad— Bruce, sorry man. Keep forgetting,” you grin sheepishly at the Batman, he doesn’t reply per usual.

“What’s the story here?”

“Nothing,” he replies dryly as you spin in his chair, he seems unamused but sighs and keeps his mouth shut, letting you enjoy the little things. Alfred steps in, setting a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk down on an empty spot on the table trashed with stacked up files and strewn papers.

“We’re not children—” Bruce complains before cutting himself off when you eagerly reach for a glass and a cookie, Bruce cracks an amused smile, before nodding a silent thanks to Alfred. The butler chuckles before making his leave.

“How long until I— your dad comes for you?” Bruce questions, with a raised brow, taking a glass for himself.

“Should be soon, you’ve probably got everyone busting their asses to get me home.”

Home. It’s a strange concept to him, that anyone else, let alone a dozen children think of his manor as a home, let alone him as one too.

“You’re a good dad, B.”

You pause for a moment before continuing, “i mean you have your moments of… less good dad moments but overall. You do great with us, you’re gonna doubt it a lot a times. But you gotta remember in the future you’re not alone anymore.”

He stays silent, “I’ve enjoyed this,” he admits.

“The idea of having a daughter, let alone more kids. I like it, I can see why i adopt all of you in the future, especially you. I know I’m doing right if you’ve turned out like this, you’re a good kid, and a great hero.”

You want to cry, you always do when you hear him praise you. But the moment is cut short when Barry is suddenly in the middle of the cave.

You shoot up, “Barry?”

“Kid!” The speedster grins, he’s at your side in less than a second. “You had me worried, i thought Bruce was gonna kill me— oh hi Bruce.”

Your father — past father? future father? — seems unimpressed, glaring at the man in red. A hole rips through the air, and through it you can see your father, current dad, you can see the worry in his eyes, the sight of his greying hair all too familiar, comforted by the sight of him.

Beside him you see Zatara in some soft of trance, you don’t question it as you rush forwards towards the portal to get to your dad. Before you can pass through you turn back around rushing back to past Bruce’s side.

Bruce’s arms wind around you when you topple in his arms, hugging him tightly, “thank you.” You whisper, your dad watches from the other side of the portal, his heart twisting, he knows how much this would mean to past Bruce.

“How do i find you?” Bruce asks softly, he holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” You reply, pulling away. “I promise.”

He lets you go, with the promise that you’ll find each other. You’ll find your way home, you know that much. You’ll find your dad, whether he exists in whatever universe you’re in or not. You’ll always find Bruce Wayne, whether its his memory or a picture of him, whether he’s real or fake.

You and Barry make your way through the portal as it closes, past Bruce can see the relief in his future selfs eyes once you’re back with him.

Nobody sees how later that night your dad doesn’t leave your side, the fear of ever losing you settling in.

He’ll savour whatever moments he can get with you now.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[svtcrus]

───── `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 BABY LOVE ME EVENT SERIES

FORBIDDEN ; WRIOTHESLEY X AFAB!Reader

warning : office sex, slight degradation, ass slapping, not proofread (i apologize, i tried getting this done as fast as i could), just smutty so MDNI

synopsis : you and his grace have formed quite the bond. a bond that isn't quite typical between a boss and his secretary.

who would've thought, you're caught up in the handcuffs of the warden, the duke himself. you were–trying at least–playing a joke on him, to liven up the gloominess that's sought all over the fortress.

such a harmless joke really. yet wriothesley himself decided to take this joke into his own hands and twist it all around.

you had simply just wanted to tease him a slight, you wanted to see how much of a rise you could get out of him despite your willful obedience.

so you took it upon yourself to wear a flaring skirt instead of the your usual skin tight leggings–which wriothesley has secretly grown to adore– it was quite humid and hot in the fortress anyways. perhaps you would talk to him about the fortress's air conditioning.

"your grace, the fortress feels quite warm today doesn't it? the temperature felt quite different that-"

the duke in question had raised his head, eyes widening at your change of look. your half assed explanation is slowly fading in his head, for those dark eyes of his began to trace every curve of your body.

archons. he shouldn't. this is clearly forbidden. you're his secretary, and he's your boss, the duke. this is so... wrong?

having formed quite the formidable friendship with the duke was something inevitable. he had recently thought of having an aide to assist him on more serious matters, especially after the incident with the primordial water.

so now here you were, 6 months into the job and having formed quite a tight knit bond with his grace. however today, didn't seem to be quite gracefu and instead lustful to your situation.

"you're quite the slut aren't you?" large calloused hands are rubbing against your sides, said duke has you stuck on his lap. skirt pulled up revealing your behind for everyone to see if they were to walk in.

"acting all innocent, when really you're the most guiltiest person out there. and in front of me?... how bold." plump ass on his growing bulge is all for him to see. black lace panties too? gosh, he feels like the luckiest man alive.

such a view causes his breath to hitch with bitten lips, meanwhile you sat atop of him. your hands holding up your skirt as your cheeks burn red. his own are feeling you up... until you were squeaking with a whine. his palm hits you out of reality, and you can't help but to hold yourself up on the edge of his death.

this reaction he gets from you has him blooming with pride. only he can make you this way. only he should be the one to have you twist and bend the rules that one should oh so be obediently obeying.

"sweetheart, do you really want to do this?" pulling you back onto his chest, holding by your waist. a man so cold has never felt ever more warmer against you.

he's whispering into your ear, and now both your hot breaths that speak of anticipation can be heard more clearly between the two of you. god, you want him so badly

"m'please wrio... I've never wanted something as bad as this... please." and that's all he needed before he's pounding into you on his big desk. quills and pens thrown, all scattered around indicating the feverent lust that is happening in his very office. anyone could come in at any moment. heavens even poor sigewinne could witness the absolute debauchery you were both comitting. yet at the same time such rational thoughts have been clouded by your irrational need for wriothesley.

"m'fuck..! wrio—! too much!" you're gripping aimlessely at something, anything, to pace yourself with wriothesleys pounding rhythm. he's addicted, fully hooked on you. the way your walls squeeze around him and how beautiful moans you let out as he enters you, the sound of skin against skin echoing in his office. he's completely high off of you.

"hold it sweetie, because I'm not done with you yet— fuck!" wrio is bending down, placing needy kisses along your nape and shoulders. his grip on your waist is tighter, your cries and pleas only getting louder. the thought of being quiet completely out the door.

"mm– wrio i'm gonna–!" your head is practically digging into the table, wriothesleys pace seems to only have gotten more forceful. you can feel the knot tying inside, and with one more thrust you cry from the euphoria of your release.

scarred, muscular arms wrap around your body tightly. the deep grunt from wrio vibrates against your back. you both stay like this for a few moments, the sound of your hot panting being the only sound in the room.

yet before you could even exhale one more time, you're flipped around so that your now eye to eye with the duke. and his gaze has only gotten darker.

"your grac-?" before you can even protest, it's replaced with another moan. you're biting your lip again, and your hands instinctively wrap themselves around him.

"i told you sweetheart. i'm not done with you."

@svtcrus || 07.11.24 ; baby love me event

©️ all rights reserved. do not copy , repost , alter , plagiarize my work.

[ayeyolooo]

let me help you

please excuse me for my grammatical errors🫶🏾

You were currently at your desk tears falling on the paper with a little plop. You had a ten page essay due @ 11:59 and it was currently 8. You knew that it was more than enough time, but you just couldn’t get a thought out of your head for nothing, you struggled writing essays period, they’ve always been your weak spot.

your phone started ringing so you pushed your black framed glasses up and looked into the camera seeing that it was armin calling you. you glanced at your red puffy eyes and pouty lips as you answered the phone and placed it up so that it’ll be facing the ceiling.

“hi my pretty girl, what are you doing.” just hearing his voice alone made you want to cry and just run to him while he comforts you. “Nothing.” you croaked out. “mama why can’t i see your face? what’s wrong?” he spoke softly. you just sniffed and he automatically knew. “why are you crying baby?” you picked the phone up and pouted.

“ihavethisessaydueandidunnohowimgoingtofinishitallbeforethedeadline.” you jumbled out trying to get all of your words out before your throat closed, from crying. “mama slow down and talk to me, now what’s got you so upset? whats wrong?” he tilted his head. he was laying on his stomach with his phone propped up on his bicep meaning he was comfortable in bed with his sweats on and his glasses. “i’m trying to finish this essay and i don’t know where you start..” you sniffed again. “okay, is mrs. l/n home?” you nodded.

“okay, i’m on the way right now princess.” he hung up the phone. 15 minutes later and you heard the door downstairs open. “hey baby, whatcha doin here?” you heard your mom downstairs. “y/n’s upset about something so i just want to cheer her up.” armin responded as your mom placed her hand on her heart. “see young love, this is so sweet. gone ahead baby, she’s in her room.” armin walked up the stairs and into your room.

you looked at the door and seen armin standing there with some yellow roses and a bag of hot puffs. you just pouted and walked up to him. He picked you up by your thighs—koala style as you just sobbed in his shoulder. ( so she’s being a baby rn! i don’t blame her id act the same way if my person was babying me😭.) “awww don’t cry it’s okayy.” he sat on the edge of your bed and rubbed your back. you felt his cold metal rings graze your back as your body reacted from it—receiving chills.

he tucked his head into your neck and just held you, his glasses were pushed up a bit but he didn’t mind. he was comforting you, which was all that mattered to him. “here come and let’s lay down, because i can see that you’re exhausted pretty girl.” you shook your head no. “i can’t , my work has to be finished before 11:59.” armin just nodded. “yeah i know, it’ll be okay.” you just nodded and laid on his chest as the theme to naruto played in the background. he just rubbed your back and played with your hair that poked from up under the bonnet.

he then heard your light snores. he gently moved you over and walked over to your desk. he sat down and looked at your notes feeling bad that you had so much to do. You were a busy person, you were trying to balance your business and school work and both of them couldn’t be done in one day so you eventually became stagnant in your work, only doing it the day before the deadline. armin understood what you were dealing with, so him being the amazing boyfriend he is, he made sure to help you every chance he gets.

for 3 hours armin was circling, highlighting typing and rewriting your notes that seemed to be decorated with your tear drops. “ the meaning behind this book is to only confuse the reader, no one was actually in love with eachother, it was only an illusion.” armin wrote and clicked enter. armin stuck his tongue out just a little bit proof reading what he just wrote. Proud of what he wrote he submitted it in at 11:58 pm. armin then pecked your forehead “i love you so much my love.” that was the last thing armin ever said to you being that he died from a car accident while he was on the way home.

nahhh just kidding lol!

armin headed home safely after praying over his journey! Armin made sure that the both of you had God in the center of your relationship! he loved you dearly and he thanked God everyday for allowing you to be in his life!

AN

i’m sorry i probably gave you an heart attack im so sorry baby💔. i thought yall would’ve liked the jokey joke😓! na just kidding tho im slowly making my way backkkkk yayyy :)

BVOTD!

GALATIANS 1:10

[sadplaguedoctor]

grief

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been taking silco’s death rather hard and found yourself doing almost anything to remember him, even if that means masturbating in his chair.

tags: solo masturbation, referenced major character death, scent kink, grief, angst, hurt no comfort, you are going slightly mad

It’s been two months. Two whole months since Silco had gone and died and left you here alone to fend for yourself— something you had gotten used to not having to do after so many years of being with him.

His office was quieter than before, and cold. So very cold. You no longer had the option of pushing yourself up next to him despite his grumbles about “distraction” and “important business”. You no longer felt his arms wrapped around your body late at night. The rise and fall of his chest was now forgotten.

Though, you were determined to keep him alive in any way you could. You slept in his bed, wore some old jewelry of his, wrapped yourself up in the clothes he had gifted you time and time again. Even sprayed yourself with his cologne— just a bit, making sure to get it mostly on his clothes that were saved for bedtime.

His pillows still faintly smelled of him. The amount of times you had turned your head to shove your nose into the fabric all while burying your fingers within yourself was lost to you.

Sometimes, you would cry. Cry because your fingers weren’t his and would never be his again. They didn’t reach the areas that he touched with so much grace, nor were they as rough. It was a reminder of the empty husk he had left you to wallow in.

“I still feel your presence,” you spoke quietly, talking to a figment of the past as you dragged your fingertips across Silco’s desk. “I still see you. In the dark, in our bed.”

There was no doubt that your sanity had been slipping ever since the incident. You would hear his voice speaking to you and guiding you throughout your day. Sometimes, you’d see him duck behind alleys or stand silently in the corner of his bedroom. You often found yourself fighting the urge to follow these hallucinations, but then with one simple blink, he disappeared.

“Jinx tells me I’m going crazy, but I see it in her eyes. She feels the same. We all do.”

It broke you to see the distant look in Jinx’s eyes when she thought no one was looking— but it hurt even more to see the rabid, pure unadulterated fury in them. Sure, you both got to see and feel different versions of Silco, but the pain of loosing him was similar. It was sorrow, it was dejection, it was rage.

But, truly, what good did crying do? It wouldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times you screamed into his pillow, begging for one little sign that he was still watching over you. You remained cold.

His chair still felt the same against your body, the softness of the plush leather stuck to your skin the same way it used to. It kept you warm during nights spent staring off into space, reminiscing on old memories you could never experience again.

Though, you were weak. You could only spend so much time inhaling his scent without becoming eager and internally frustrated.

One arm rest dug into your back as your legs draped over the other— head turned so your nose could press against the back of the chair, taking in as much of his lingering scent as you could without having to gasp for air.

Jeans pooled at your ankles and your legs shook, fingers hurriedly pumping in and out of your cunt while you wriggled and writhed on the leather.

“You were always so desperate with me. I must say, I’m quite pleased to see that spark never dulled.”

You could hear him. His voice echoed in your mind like his lips hovered by your ear, taunting you.

“Damn you,” you whispered, closing your mouth quickly after to muffle any sounds of pleasure that dared to escape you. “Damn you for leaving me.”

A jolt shot through your body and your thighs clenched tightly around your wrist, head thrown back as you choked on your own breath. Your movements were feral, unhinged and like he said, desperate. So were the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your lips which began to part and make way for broken sobs and groans.

When you came, you kept your fingers tucked inside you— not ready to get rid of that stretch, that sensation of being full and his. Silco’s name bubbled up in your throat and died on your tongue, the taste sour and grey.

“Good girl,” he whispered once more, a light pressure pushing against your temple. You clung to that. Clung to the phantom kiss that would fuel your desires and delusions for days to come.

He was gone, you knew that. But the figure that vanished the moment you opened your eyes, promised otherwise.

Even in death, he haunted you.

i wrote this the very moment i woke up this morning and posted it an hour after. this wasn’t the first and will not be the last time i wake up to the thought of silco.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Champion and King Pt1

(Since yall seemed to want this...)

Danny didn't know why he was doing this, didn't know why he agreed to try this for Clockwork...

He cursed the day he defeated Pariah Dark, that great petty bastard cursed him with something much worse than a missing limb or death.

Motherfucking paperwork

And centuries of it, sure there was some meager efforts done by the Ancients over the years but at some point they just stopped.

And now he was stuck behind a desk reading mind-numbing legal jargon trying to figure out what exactly the Observants wanted him to do, the most he was able to comprehend was they wanted support for an increase of dead from leprosy...from 800 BC.

He slapped it with his decline seal and moved onto the next, another plea for more funding by Walker, accepted and pushed to another bin.

Read, Stamp, put in Bin.

That was his life now.

He had become the lamest office worker whenever he wasn't at school or sleeping, he hadn't seen Sam or Tucker in what felt like years...

His eyes skipped over lines of text, sighing as he let the paper drop, his ink stained fingers rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he did.

Stretching back in his chair, Danny stared up at the ceiling of his office, feeling some calm come over his tired mind, his ceiling was covered with stars on pitch black, his eyes could pick out constellations known and unknown, one (and maybe only benefit) of being the Ghost King was that he had full access to all of the ghosts in the Realms, others who looked up to the stars and felt hope.

Watching the stars twinkle for another minute, Danny groaned before looking back to the piles and piles of paperwork, only pausing as there was a bright pink postit note stuck on the paper that he had recently tried to read.

It was both a welcome distraction and a troublesome thing, picking it up, Danny's eyes narrowed as he read.

'Dear King Daniel, I hope this note finds you well, a pressing matter has come to fruition that need your attention. Come to my tower, I wish to speak to you.'

Grumbling, the teen stood, wincing at the creak of his bones as he stretched, he is barely over 14! Why does he have a worse back then his father!

---

Floating through the purple door of the clock tower, Danny looked around for his supposed mentor.

Letting out a grunt as he was tackled from behind, the teen glared at the pint sized Clockwork grinning evilly up at him, "Sup Unc, took you long enough, were you in Ohio? That's totally not skibidi rizz my guy, never Ohio max Danny, it would destroy the time stream."

How is this the same person thst sent that flowery worded message from before? Simple, it was an older Clock Work, as his body cycles through ages, so does his words and how they are used...sadly.

Rolling the young Clock Work off himself, Danny glared for a moment before sighing, "if you brought me here just to sprout brain rot I am calling Technus and making him ban your accounts..."

The small Clock Work glared at Danny for a moment before shifting to a more mature form, "Truely if my excited form is too much for you I fear for the other citizens of the realm." Not letting Danny defend himself the now man steam rolled on, "But that matters not as of now, for I must instruct you on another Kingly duty that you have yet to do."

Danny sucked in a breath and tried to stop the growl that wanted to come out, he would save it for his office and his mountains of paperwork, "Another? I am already drowning in paperwork! I am this close to helping Vlad get my mom just so he teaches me the duplication trick he does!" Pacing the teen dragged his hands down his face, "I am barely in the 800s BC! Undergrowth doesn't need to help save a certain flower that can only be found on one island because it fucking sunk and became Atlantis! Did you know that's how I found out it was real? Fucking Atlantis is real and I found out through paperwork!"

As he ranted Danny gripped at his hair, tugging at it as he continued "I can't even process that because I have Walker up my ass, every second paper is him asking for more funding! Why does he need more ecto? He only has 5 inmates at a time?"

Clockwork o lyrics crossed his arms, watching as Danny raved onward, after he hit the five minute mark, Clock Work grabbed the teen by his shoulders and shook him lightly, "Daniel this will not be anything like the paper work, will you kindly cease speaking and let me tell you what it is?"

---

Billy yawned and decided that today would be a good day, it wasn't really anything that was about this morning that was unnormally good or nice, but Billy couldn't shake the feeling it was going to be great!

Stretching, as he shucked off his sleeping bag, the teen rolled off his sleeping pad and fumbled for his phone, a small rinky dink flip phone he had gotten with prepaid minutes.

Yawning again as he checked on the time, he nodded, he would be able to stop by the shelter in an hour to get breakfast, he could thr pop behind the general store to see if Mister Mathew had anything he needed help with/ was throwing out.

Shuffling around his makeshift area, Billy packed up his things, slotting them into an old military backpack he had been able to snag out of a dumpster, it only had a few holes! Practically brand new for a homeless kid.

Checking over his League communicator, he made sure that the world didn't end while he was sleeping, and set off for the day, humming a tune as he walked through the abandoned subways under his city.

Coming out to one of the less abandoned places, he waved at some of the kinder homeless population, he had been on the streets longer than most, but for some reason a lot of them still treated him like he was fresh out of a foster home.

Taking a deep breath as he came up into the light of day, Billy hummed, a smile on his face as he set to do his morning rounds.

---

Okay so it seemed like the day was purposely trying to make Billy get in a bad mood, the shelter denied him entry since they were full up, which is fine, he has protein bars in his backpack.

Then it seemed like Mister Mathew forgot to tell his new hire about their little deal so he got cussed out and chased off, which is again, is fine, he will try again later when he knows for sure that Mister Mathew is actually there.

No, what was the serious thing that was trying to make him have a bad day was the twenty story tall tentacles that were whipping around trying to destroy the better part of down town Fawcett city.

"Oh shiz...am heh." Shaking his head from his own little pun, the teen ran into a near by alley, did a once over to make sure there wasn't any unexpected viewers, and then called out the old wizards name, "Shizam!"

Lighting tore through the sky and slammed into his chest, in a flash of light Billy Batson, homeless 14 year old was gone, and where he stood was Captain Marvel, Champion of Magic.

---

He didn't do it on purpose, Danny swears mentally as he flew out of reach of the dark whip like tentacle, he still wasn't used to traveling by the Ring of Rage and well...his portaling wasn't as good as it probably should be...

Sending a blast of ecto at what he could only assume to be a being outside of his comprehension, Danny sneered at it "Oy grippy face! Leave the people alone! I brought you here dammit! Fight me you sad sack of calamari!"

Grinning as his taunts got him a feral grumbling and black ichor bubbling at what he could only assume a mouth was? He didn't really care as he focused on freezing the tentacle that missed him, stopping it before it could slam into a near by building.

But before Danny could attack the beast, he froze, his dead heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

After the portal accident, Danny instinctively had a sense about electricity, he could practically taste it when there was a high voltage.

And right now? His mouth was like an ozone ocean, his arm burned once again along the lines of his Lichtenberg scar, and with a boom that rattled Danny's core and left stars flying around his vision, a bolt of white lightning shot from a figure flying not to far away towards the great tentacle beast, making it squeal in pain.

But Danny was still frozen, eyes wide and hands shaking, as another bolt of brilliant white shot out from the being, a man in a scarlet suit, a snow white cape fluttering behind him, and a golden lightning built across his chest.

Danny was not going to have fun this fight isn't he?

[yayll]

Soo umm maybe angsty request but a reader who works at the agency but misses her old life? Like, family or her old self. If you wanna and like the idea!! Have fun💕

i know this is a thousand yrs late and i am so sorry abt that but also. thank you for trusting me w this request i rlly took it to heart and i cracked these damn knuckles and hopefully wrote something you'll like :') i had fun, angel. MWAH.

- a little something about emotions and Dazai's way of perceiving yours ~

"Aughhh..."

You're groaning at your desk again, face down and resting your forehead on the cold wooden surface. Lately, it's been the same cycle. You come to work and the day goes by in a blink of an eye, and suddenly... There is nothing else to look forward to but to do it all again tomorrow. It's been tough, with the agency constantly bombarded with cases and quite literally saving the world, you've forgotten to call home every week like you used to. Now it's every other month, if at all.

There are times when you go on your lunch break and think about how ordinary your life used to be, how you used to spend your time doing the opposite of what you do now. Joining the agency was a wonderful turning point in your life and you wouldn't trade it for the world, but sometimes it felt like there was too much happening, you were falling behind and not connecting enough with the foundations that made you, you. It was an overstimulating nightmare.

Your co-workers were so talented and caring and it felt like a family with the way you all worked as a unit and watched out for each other, yet the intrusive thoughts about you never quite fitting in wouldn't leave your mind. Or your face, for that matter.

This is where Dazai knew he had to get involved.

He could tell your mind was elsewhere, and he hated that. You were supposed to be wherever he was, even if you didn't fully know it yet. He constantly perceived you from across the office where he slacked off work as usual, but this time it wasn't to await his next grand revelation... It was to figure out why you seemed so distant. So far, yet so close. You always laughed at his jokes and antics, all a part of his attention seeking persona around the agency, but he could hear the way your laugh seemed to die down in your throat as if it burned to even make a sound. He recognized it as the kind of burn whiskey left behind in his own throat when he had his occasional drinks at Lupin after a particularly hard day. Dazai knew the feeling of ruminating, of feeling stuck in the past and how it could keep you from existing in the present if not dealt with properly. But he wasn't exactly the shining example of dealing with one's feelings, not when he was a walking contradiction, which is why he hesitated to bring this up to you directly.

Of course, that didn't stop him from trying, not when you're groaning so adorably within earshot.

Not when he would do anything for you to drop that fastidious attitude that won't give him the proper time of day. It was pathetic and selfish of him, but it was sincere. With a fixed smile like a Cheshire cat, he prances towards your desk and stands there for a solid minute before you realize the familiar entity looming over you.

You slowly look up, dark under eyes are the first to properly greet him, along with that cute clip in your hair that's barely holding it all together. He thinks you look even cuter this way even if you were at your worst, and that made him feel a tad guilty... just a tad. He clears his throat softly as a deceptively cheerful voice pours out of him.

"Hi! You're looking awfully exhausted today."

You hum, a weak smile adorning your lips. You didn't want to smile at all, but it was a force of habit, so why not use it on the biggest clown you knew?

"Yeah? That's real observant of you, Dazai."

His heart races as you poke back, what a precious creature you were. He responds with faux indignance, rolling his eyes and the whole bit.

"Uh yeah, of course! It's why they pay me the big bucks, silly. You should try being like me sometime."

"Ah, is that the only thing I should try being? Not very original of me, I must say."

His smile drops to a more sly smirk as he shrugs, sighing dramatically while casting his gaze elsewhere for a moment.

You should try to be mine, he thinks to himself.

He doesn't deserve that honor, but it's the truth and he can always count on delusion.

"Eh, who cares about originality? That's what writers use as an excuse to torture themselves. It's no fun, You might as well jump off a bridge with me instead."

You raise an eyebrow at that, your fake smile becoming a bit more genuine now.

"I think I'll pass on that, Dazai."

He pouts, and you hate that he resembles a puppy with the way his eyes comically droop.

"Such a shame. I was hoping we could share that experience together. It would be quite the work bonding exercise, don't you think?~"

You nod, your voice laced with what he hopes is a playful retort, but it is much too deadpan.

"I'm sure it would."

"You know, you're surprisingly hard to torment."

You hum once more, shrugging as you look back down at the files on your desk, unable to hold his dark eyes that seem to penetrate your very soul.

"... Well I suppose I could say the same about you."

Before you know it, you feel his warm breath against your cheek, having leaned down to your level to murmur in your ear. It's velvety and far too intimate for the middle of the workday, tempting like the devil himself.

"Like I said, we could always drown our sorrows in the river. That always helps."

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, a slight flush begins to burn your cheeks and you wish you hadn't turned at all. It's sick the way every once in a while he'll test your boundaries to see if you'll let him in, if you'll see past the charm and the self destructive tendencies that might just seal his fate one day.

But you need him right now! And you clearly need a bit more of a push rather than just jokes, so he makes a point to grill you until you have no choice but to run into his hypothetical arms. In that instant, he catches your phone light up, the word 'MOM' is as clear as the red that spreads through your face.

Ah, so that's it.

"Seems like you should take that."

Your eyes widen as you flicker between him and your phone. Shit.

"Maybe later. I'm not really in the headspace for a call right now... Might go out for some lunch and get some air."

"I like air. Perhaps we can get some together? You might have too much and need someone to resuscitate you."

You snort softly and immediately feel embarrassed for being so casual out of your own human weakness. Yet somehow Dazai's ridiculous jokes always manage to get you to play along and forget that very embarrassment.

"CPR involves air, Dazai. You'd kill me in the process."

He clutches his chest, letting out a dreamy breath.

"Ahhh. Romantic, don't you think? I'd follow you immediately, of course~"

You shake your head as you stand up to walk out for your much needed reprieve from the inescapable thoughts you can't shake.

"You're impossible."

He stands back to give you your space and sticks his hands into his coat pockets, beginning to follow right behind you. He taps your shoulder when your back is fully turned to him, clearing his throat as he says your name in the most sinful way.

"Ahem. You forgot your phone."

You freeze in your tracks. You want to so badly do what your mind is screaming to do, but you can't bring yourself to do it. The battle between wanting to grab that bit of normalcy you miss and wanting to avoid it like the plague is the fear of the commitment to acknowledge it. You slowly turn to face him holding out your phone for you and yet again... It stings when he looks at you like that. Like he actually cares. It makes you feel drunk on the sensation of being seen on a deeper level, the butterflies in your stomach keep saying so. You sigh, and mumble back.

"Leave it. I don't need it right now."

He steps a little closer, way too close for comfort. His voice drops to a more serious tone, yet it's nothing but gentle, firm. It's a Dazai you don't think you've ever heard except when on a mission. Even then it always felt performative. But not now. He takes your hand in his bandaged one and holds it out for a moment with your palm facing up. His desire for you to make amends with your troubles is far more important than proper customs, so he needs to do this and do it now before you drown any deeper and he loses his self control.

He can save you even if you're too stuck in your own self pity to see the brightness of your own future. How you shine like a diamond in the rough, if only you'd just let yourself live in the now. He whispers to you.

"I think she'd like to know how you're doing. Family, they're the only normalcy you can have sometimes... Especially in this line of work. I think you know that."

You gaze into his dark eyes, and for the first time are not afraid to hold eye contact as you realize you actually want to hear more. Finally, a real piece of him is being shown to you?

"... Is that something you relate to, Dazai?"

He almost winces at that, a flashback of two friends he once considered family flash into his mind. Maybe today is a Lupin day. He could imitate your angelic laughter as the whiskey burns his throat. He hides all of this with a nasty little smirk, elusive as ever as he lies through his teeth.

"Absolutely not."

You seem a bit disappointed at first, but before you can dwell on it too much, your thoughts flicker back to the phone call you realize it might be time to make. Your mood is instantly different. Hopeful, even. Dazai places your phone in your palm, slowly closing your hand into a small fist. His hand lingers on top of your knuckles for a second too long, and you realize you are, in fact, unable to keep looking him in the eye like this or else you might just collapse knowing he'd catch you. The concept alone is intoxicating.

"I'm gonna take this, okay?"

His smirk softens, almost boyish with the way he instantly relaxes and reverts back to his usual self. The mood shifts back to how it felt before, and Dazai nods in reassurance.

"You go get some air. I'll be here."

He waves you off as you flash him one last smile before exiting the office. That'll keep him going for a while, he thinks. You look so beautiful when you're full of life, he hopes it rubs off on him too. He stands there for a long time in deep thought, simply smiling at the floor. At some point your hair clip fell out without you noticing, and so he picks it up, pocketing it. He'll consider this the consummation of your relationship.

An hour passes by and you walk back into the office, eager to tell Dazai about your call back home and how refreshed you feel. That he was right, and you wanted to share this new found perspective that he helped you approach and conquer. You find the office is completely empty, and when your eyes glance at your desk, there's a sticky note left on one of the many trinkets you display on it. You read it out loud to yourself.

"You long for the past, so perhaps we can recreate it. Maybe a nice long walk by the river, or we could always try a more private solution.

Either way, I'm at your mercy.

- Osamu"

You can't help but want to kick your feet at the little heart he doodled next to his messy handwriting and make a mental note to properly give him your contact info next time. You'd make sure to take a call from him, because you know he'd make it worth your while.

He always does.

[missmimii]

Detention | M - Sturniolo

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which two students find themselves landing in detention for their lack of good behaviour, they find themselves uncovering the tension and undeniable attraction of one another.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, switch!matt, fem!reader, smut, language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, pet names, fluff, (no actual intercourse)

MDNI!

୨ৎ － Wc - 8.5k

• 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ － finally got this shit written, woo!

The girl couldn’t help the way her eyes slowly drew themselves onto the boy who leans over his desk, pencil in hand, that occasionally makes a small tap, as he flicks the rubber end against the hard surface of the desktop. The few papers scattered across the desk occupied by the timidly quiet man, have slightly messy writing aligned across the sheets, his signature written atop.

MATT

Her lips tip up at the corners as she caught sight of the odd way he’d spelt his name, but pays no more mind than necessary, as well as averting the gaze of her eyes to the front of the practically empty room. With the boredom of sitting in silence, and nothing merely interesting to focus the girls attention on, she found herself flicking the irritant gaze of her eyes to the old clock that hung above the empty desk, along with the occasional bounce of the knee.

Why did I choose today of all days to be such a bitch? I could just leave, she pondered before clearing the foolish thought with a shake of the head.

If the girl was being blatantly honest, the only thing that had kept her in the depressive room, was the awkward boy that sat exactly four seats away.

Of course the girl would never consider herself as a nosy individual, considering it was those kinds of people who had gotten her landed in detention. Though, the curiosity she found herself feeling had her pleat-skirted bottom glued to her small plastic seat. Her mind raced with thoughts, the one in lead being, what the fuck was Matthew Sturniolo, doing in detention ?

Having gone to the same since middle school, it wasn’t a shock to be familiar or know most of the people in her grade. The girl had known the same peers for an obnoxiously, and seemingly endless amount of time, which at first, didn’t seem so bad.

When in reality, it was just a vicious cycle of a bunch of nosy teenagers, who think they know anything and everything about you.

Except for the three boys, that was.

It was a regular public school, resulting in nobody really striking as different.

Even if there was cliches and some random wanna-be gangster boys, who thought they had some higher superiority, in the end we were just all humans who were trying to get through senior year.

And even though the set of boys were the only triplets who attended the school, or twins for that matter, the bunch of boys weren’t the oddest thing that came from the pair. It was him.

Between Chris, Nick, and Matt, the middle child stuck out like a sore thumb. She’d noticed the youngest was most definitely the social butterfly of the bunch.

It didn’t take much to gather, seeing as every in any class that the girl had with the boy, he’d be leaning his head over random people’s shoulders, a toothy grin on his lips as he pathetically attempted to befriend almost everyone in his surroundings.

Two weeks prior

“Hey.”

My eyebrows knit together, head slowly raising from my textbook at the sound of a soft whisper coming from .. behind me?

I quickly glance behind me, catching sight of one of the familiar faces I’d seen almost every day since I was thirteen. “.. Hi?” The greeting comes out as more of a question, though I assume he doesn’t pay mind to it, as he immediately adds his over-enthusiastic response.

“I know you.”

I open and close my mouth, silently scrambling for a reply to the unsettling sentence. “Congratulations?” His smile dips at the corners a bit, and I hold in the urge to laugh.

The glare of the small diamonds pierced through both of the boys ears, become showcased as he turns his head, eyes warily swiping along the room. “So..” He slowly looks back my way, voice drifting off into a whisper.

“Doyouknowhowtospellthis?”

Both of my eyebrows raise. “Sorry? I literally- didn’t hear one thing you just said.” I let out a small snort at the end of my sentence, withholding the extremely strong urge to ask the triplet how he’s even real fucking person.

He breathes out a sigh while rolling his eyes. “Do you know how to spell this!” I jump and look around at his sudden outburst, seeing almost every peer around mine and the males desks, eyes on us both.

Before I could respond, I was beat to it by a boy that looked awfully familiar to the one behind me. “What the fuck Chris?!” The eldest triplet hissed, glaring down at the younger one with pink cheeks, obviously embarrassed by his brother’s lack of social skills.

Chris rolled his eyes as his triplet stood over his desk, crossing his arms like a scolded child while tipping his chin to the side with a silent scoff. “I believe your seat is nearing the front left corner of the room, Nick.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Nicks eyebrows drew together as he peered down at his brother. “The front right, you dummy.” He scoffed, and I covered my mouth to hide the smile that appeared on my lips as I sighted the pink flush that tainted the younger brother’s cheeks with embarrassment. “Which you’d know, after us being in the same class since kindergarten, if you knew your fuckin’ left and rights!” Nick whisper hissed.

I watched as Chris’s face fell with anger as he went retort, with a harsh reply I’m certain, before the sound of my English teachers voice piped in. “Christopher Sturniolo.” Both boys faces paled, simultaneously turning to face the angered woman. “We’re in the middle of a grammatical spelling exam.” She deadpanned.

Chris’s shoulders fell, before his eyes slowly glided beside him to his slightly taller twin. Nick shot daggers at the boy, making him huff out a small grunt, turning his head back to Miss Callahan as he plastered a sheepish grin in his lips.

“.. If I raise my hand can he help me?”

Current day

The memories of the day could make the girl cry, laughing all over again, remembering how the staff member nodded toward the eldest triplet who sat nearing the front of the class, to go help the younger one.

“That’s not how you spell ‘Rehearsal’ you dumb fuck.”

Though she was then already acquainted with two other brothers, she still found herself drawn, or rather curious about the middle child.

Matt stuck to himself, but because he was pretty much always accompanied by the presence of the other two men, it was decently odd to see how closed off and isolated he was when by himself.

When in the halls alone, he would have headphones atop his head, or resting around his neck as he fiddled with the horse chain woven around his neck. Or in class, he’d simply silently do his work, a hand never being raised or words being spoken from his lips as the hours passed.

It was almost refreshing to see a decent mannered man, in a school filled to the brim of attitude ridden, douchebags.

The odd thing about this wasn’t how he was perceived, because if the girl was being realistic, all of the traits that were being performed by him, weren’t necessarily weird or unusual.

The only difference was the contrast between himself and his brothers. Both of the others seemingly outgoing, and extroverted, where Matt just merely wasn’t.

Leading to the ultimate question she has in these very moments.

What in gods name did quiet, innocent, Matthew Sturniolo do to end up in detention?

“Shit.”

The startled girl jumps a bit as her desk rattles, two ring clad hands flying out to steady the wobbling table. She pushes her chair out a bit, jaw slack as she blinks up at the dark haired boy who stands directly in front of her sitting frame, from the opposite end of her desk. “Fuck, I’m really sorry.” Matt chuckles nervously.

The ability for words to emit from her parted lips fades away as she peered up at him in disbelief, weirdly shocked at the sinful strings of curses that had come from his lips. “Uh- no, you’re good.” She shook her head a bit, sending him a small smile.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head while peering down at the girl, seeking her reassurance. At her nod, he softly sighs while threading a hand through the dark tendrils of hair that messily topple just below his eyebrows. “I was just-” He points his outstretched thumb toward behind him. “-going to grab a pen.” He explains.

Her lips form an ‘o’ with understanding, holding in the urge to smile at the explanation he offered, as it was utterly unnecessary. “Here,” Matt’s eyebrows draw together with confusion as he leers down at nymph, her hands shuffling through the chaotic mess of the faded pink backpack.

She made a small sound of content, tugging out an assortment of pens, pencils, and highlighters. “Take your pick.” She grinned up at him while holding out her palm.

He eyes the pile of pens for a moment, before his calculated gaze drags back to hers. “It’s fine, really. Callahan has a whole fuckin’ drawer filled- I can just steal one from her.” The girl shakes her head.

“No really- don’t bother.” A few hairs that escape her braided pigtails stick her lips as she spoke, the words getting caught in her throat as she senses his gaze flicking to them as she simply blew the strays away. “These are just a bunch that I’ve borrowed from people in my math class and never gave back. Plus it’s the least I could do after you practically trampled over my desk-” The girl rambles, before she feels her cheeks warm.

Do you ever shut up? She thought to herself.

Her attention is brought back to the boy at the sound of a chuckle, head raising. “How considerate of you.” She forces a smile to her lips, seeing the male observe the action whilst his tongue dips from between his lips and runs along his bottom lip.

Matt’s slim fingers reach out and carefully take one of the school pencils from the girls palm, the rough pad of his index fingers grazing along the lining of her palm. “Thanks, doll.” She offers a small nod, finding herself at a loss for words at her entrancement, caused by his heated stare as he flicks the pencil between his middle and index finger.

His back is to the awkward girl within seconds of the interaction, the stained white airforces stalking across the floors as he goes back toward his desk. Sucking in a breath, she looked down at her thighs, fiddling with the hem of the pleated skirt her curvier hips had adorned.

Minutes after minutes go by, though it seems like hours, her eyes every now and then drifting back to the man that holds the pen she’d lent him dragging across the page in front of him.

The girl made notice of how he’d now flipped the pencil around, and erased markings of one particular line of the page, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. “Fuck me.” Matt curses under his breath, the girls eyes widening at the sinful words words.

Should I? The girl thought to herself. He looks like he’s struggling, to say the upmost least- and if he was anything similar to his youngest brother within the skills of grammar, I’d take it as so.

No- what was I thinking? I’m sure the grown man could figure out to spell whatever the hell he was attempting at.

Her gaze flicks upwards, spotting the hand now free of a pencil, and now kneading the back of his head in frustration. The girl felt her stomach swoop with a twinge of guilt, almost feeling sorry of the triplets irritated state.

She began to think, since she’d already done something wrong to end up in detention, maybe it could be her way of .. making up for her mistakes?

She inwardly scoffs at the thoughts of stupidity. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t wanting to help the boy out of selflessness, I was practically feigning to know what he’d done to end up in this hell-hole.

Fuck it, she said to herself, slipping from her seat. The girls slightly trembling hands tug down the back of the pleated skirt that had ridden up her backside from sitting, softly walking closer to the male, until she was standing behind him, filled with hesitation.

As the girls hand reaches out to tap his shoulder, it was immediately tugged back, the nagging thoughts building in the back of her skull. What if he took offence to my offer of help? She thought to herself. “Whatever.” She breathed out in a whisper to herself, before finally building the courage to tap his broad shoulder.

Matt’s head immediately turned in the direction from where she stood, resulting her stumbling a startled step back. “Sorry!” She held her two hands up in defence, lamely. “I was just,” She waves toward the page in front of him, his face turned with a confused expression. “Do you need help with..” The girl trailed off.

The brown haired male stares a her for a solid five seconds, open and closing his mouth, before they purse. “Yeah..” he chuckles awkwardly, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s so embarrassing.” She gently shook her head at his words.

“Not at all.” She waved her hand around. He stared down at her smaller hand as she extended it, the confusion gracing his features quickly morphing into realization as he gently plops the pencil in her open palm. “I still forget how to spell Wednesday correctly, till this day.” She huffed out. “Which is completely stupid considering English has been the only subject I’ve done halfway decent in.” At the lame rambled confession, the girl felt her hand still against the paper, whilst her eyes squeeze shut with embarrassment.

Why’d I have to say that?

The attempt at trying to help his lack of confidence regain apparently worked it seems, as he chuckles at her prior reply. Even though the boy knew he was consider odd, weird -even, he couldn’t help but find himself amused by the odd girls behaviour. “Really? That one’s easy for me. I just think wed-nes-day.” He cut the word into three sections.

She threw him a small glare. “Way’ to make a girl feel bad.” She playfully nudged his shoulder with her own, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the movement. “Uh- okay, so what were you trying to spell?” Her eyes run over the page, stopping on the blotch of faded inked writing, that had very clearly been erased and re-written more than once.

Matt’s cheeks visibly flush as he leans his body closer to hers, the small hairs on the girls arms sticking up as goosebumps began to trickle along the surface, a small grunt leaving his lips that were perked into a small frown as he looked down at his page. “Right there,” Her eyes follow his index finger as he slowly drags the pad over the area.

“I was trying- or rather failing, to spell ambidextrous.” She felt a the corners of her lips tip up, brushing the few stray hairs from my lashes to meet his eyes tilting my head a bit to lift a brow at the confession.

She repeated his words. “Ambidextrous?” At his nod she was unable to help the small laugh that left her mouth. “Sorry-” She softly shook her head, running her hand across her jaw to stop the laughter from rolling off her tongue. “isn’t that when you’re like- left handed and right handed?” Matt slowly nods, the pink tint on his cheeks deepening.

She just shook her head incredulously before bringing the tip of the pen down to the page. “It’s for science exam- it’s a long story.” He mumbles, and she sent him a quick glance, before going back to dragging the tip across the page.

Y/n hummed softly. “I have all day.” Matt watched as her hand stilled against the paper. “Well- until that clock strikes ten o’clock.” She waved toward the wall she assumed the dusty clock was on, before going back to writing down the overly complex word.

The triplet leaned back in his seat as he glanced at the wall, seeing it completely void of any decor, and shook his head with amusement.

What an odd girl.

Unbeknownst to the male, Y/n had the exact same thoughts running about in her own mind. She watched as his knee would bounce up and down in her peripheral vision, along with the occasional hand that would run across his jaw. Was I making him uncomfortable? Or did I come off as rude by asking if he needed help with something as simple as correcting a grammatical error?

The pit in her stomach made her feel a bit nauseous, though the girl decided to let it go as she cleared her throat. “So uh- what did you do to end up in here?” Her eyes quickly flicked to the male. “You don’t like- have to tell me. I’m sorry, that was so rude of me.” Damn it, Y/n.

Matt found himself in a trance almost, leering up at her with a stargazed expression as her lips moved with each word. He found the girls strange rambling amusing, not that he’d ever openly admit it. “What did you do?” The triplet drawled out teasingly, looking smug as he cocked his head in her direction.

The girl’s hand stop writing for a moment, pondering at what her response would be. “I.. may have called my English teacher a misogynistic douchebag?” Her confession came out sounding as more of a question. Matt’s head tipped back with a chuckle, not shocked by the statement, but also a little proud.

She rolled her eyes at the sound of his laugh, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Allegedly.” She grumbled, going back to writing his cheat sheet. The girl had began to write more than just the complex word, sentence after sentence after sentence forming along the lines.

“Allegedly?” He drawled out, chest still shaking with laughter.

She finally couldn’t keep in her own laughter, a few small laughs coming from her own lips as she attempted to keep her writing beneath the lines. “Yes, allegedly.” She huffed, shaking her head. For the first time, Y/n felt genuinely free within the walls of the school. Which was saying a lot, considering how she was in detention.

Her jaw began to ache as she smiled bigger than ever, refusing to let his entertainment lapse from her ridiculous actions. Matt’s smirk remained on his lips, though he opted to run a hand across his jaw while holding in anymore laughter. “Well?” She hummed, raising a brow in his direction, making the males eyes squint with amusement. “Did he at least deserve it?”

She blew out a breath, shaking her head incredulously. “More than ever. You know the scarlet letter?” Y/n was met with silence, making her playfully roll her eyes as she turned her head toward him. “The book?” As if it was even possible, Matt’s perplexed expression had multiplied by ten.

“Demi Moore?”

His lips formed an ‘O’ in understanding, softly nodding. “She’s hot.” Her hand halted against the paper, eyes momentarily closing. Men. “Anyway,” She cut him off, from whatever disgusting rant he was about to go on. “We had to write an essay about the book- not the movie, and I made a point of writing how I thought it was complete bullshit that Roger Chillingworth, didn’t have to embroider an ‘A’ for adulterous actions, and the woman did.”

Matt watched as every word spoken by the girl, the more visibly irritated she became. “Jameson?” He lifted a brow, and at her curt nod, he scoffed. “He’s a dick. I had him in junior year, and he practically failed me because of a few typos.” He nipped at his index finger, hating the past thoughts of the terrible year.

She hummed. “Yep.” Her eyes slid to Matt for a second. “But I believe you still owe me an answer.” She cheesed, nudging his shoulder with her own softly.

Matt’s eyes drifted down to his page that now had perfect cursive writing aligned on numerous columns of the sheet, huffing out a small breath of amusement. The triplet had of course caught onto the girls motive long ago, but found himself unable to take the pen back from her, as if he needed her presence, or rather yearned for it.

Feeling her gaze on his jaw, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Punched’ some dick who takes out his anger of being a shitty goalie on his girlfriend.” Y/n stopped writing for a moment, stealing a glance at the boy. Matthew’s lips tipped up.

“Allegedly.” He added.

Y/n couldn’t help the small chuckle that she let out, her grasp on the pencil faltering as she uses her two hands to stay upright. “Uh’ huh.” She blew out a breath, a smile still lingering on her lips as she glanced down at his worksheet.

She had practically written the remaining work, weirdly, considering she was not scientifically qualified whatsoever. She hummed and drug the smooth pad of her thumb across the smudge of ink that she’d mistakenly placed across the white page. “Well.. you’re all set.” The girl tipped her head in his direction, grinning foolishly as she looked down at the brunette boy.

Matt found himself drawn into a trance, feeling his heart pulpit repeatedly in his chest a he leered up at her with a stargazed stare. She was so beautiful. He thought to himself, the soft intimidating heat of his gaze tracing each and every freckle and beauty mark imprinted upon her cheeks and lips.

As the two both drowned in their own curiosity and abyss of thoughts, it seemed as if the silence between them was a reflection of the many words that went unspoken.

He must find me obnoxiously annoying- or stuck up.

She thinks I’m a joke, absolutely stupid. Not knowing how to spell something.

It wasn’t that the silence between the two was necessarily awkward, not at all even. It was more so ..tense. Far too tense for both parties that we’re already feeling trapped and unheard, cooped up in a humid classroom. Y/n cleared her throat, again. “I did horrible in science.” She blurted out, feeling warmth flood her cheeks immediately.

Matt’s lips tipped up as she rushed her next words out. “-barely passed actually. So honestly, I probably won’t understand, or pick up on one single thing that’ll come from your mouth about any of it.” The triplet nodded along slowly as she rambled, finding it extremely amusing, and quite frankly, adorable. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing about this exam- thingy.” The girls hands waved around, exaggerating her words.

As she noticed the suddenly outburst she had had, she felt her shoulders drop. What the actual hell, is wrong with you? “Only if you wanted too though.” Matt watched as she meekly murmured her next words, feeling his head tilt to the side as he observed her now shy body languishing.

The girl was beyond exhausted with her own lack of social skills, and with that she felt her emotions taking a toll for the worst as she began to wring with the hem of her skirt with shaky fingers. She was never the most comfortable in overly talkative situations, or rather chit-chat.

That was her absolute worst performance when it came to social interactions.

Despite this, she never thought of herself to be introverted either. She found herself enthralled and excited by speaking and meeting new people. The thing that the girl found herself drained from, was her terrible skills at being even relatively normal.

Matt, being well- himself, found himself almost immediately understanding the way she proposed and functioned. The male had saw the way Y/n carried herself the minute she stepped foot into detention, seeing as she most definitely did not act as the normal person would.

If anything, Matt found himself relating to her behaviour. Alike the two, they were both oddly similar, in different ways. And if the girl were aware of his acceptance of her unintentionally foolish personality, she wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassed as she was in this exact moment.

But just like her, they both were too afraid to communicate the thoughts they had.

“I can explain along the way.” Y/n’s eyes widened as he broke the silence, Matt looking up at her with a heated stare that constantly flicked between her lustrous eyes, and the plumpness of her lips. But indefinitely he found his gaze become glued onto the pink-tinted skin of her flawless lips, his throat bobbing as he watched her pull her bottom lip between her perfect teeth. “Yeah?” He swallowed, forcing his now darkened stare up to her eyes.

Her lips parted at the unknown .. viciousness presented in the triplets gaze, having clearly noticed the way he’d looked at her lips. Remembering that the male did in fact ask a question, she opted for a silent nod, feeling almost unable to form a coherent response.

Y/n sucked in a breath as she attempted to regain control of her current feelings, accidentally allowing the pen to fall from her chipped pink nails, hearing it roll down the rigged surface of the desktop. “Shit.” The girl cursed to herself, reaching out to grab it.

Before she had the opportunity of grasping the darn thing, a larger, slimmer hand had already snapped out and landed atop the writing utensil. Matthew’s rings glittered from the sun that came in through the window aside his desk, gleaming with silver as he easily flicked the pencil between his index and middle finger, rolling it into his palm effortlessly.

The girl felt her stomach churn, though not in the way she would usual feel. This time it flipped, a fluttering sensation swarming her stomach as if there were millions of butterflies’ wings grazing the longing of her abdomen. “How familiar are you with the five different types of chemistry?” The usual softness of Matt’s tone was long gone, replaced with a husky octave that sounded as if he was containing the urge to speak something sinful.

“.. There’s different kinds?”

Matt found his tongue twinging the inside of his cheek at the girls soft tone, making her roll her eyes and gently push his shoulder as she caught the action. “Shut up. I told you I wasn’t science smart.” He chuckled and raised his hands in defence, the girl looking down at his desktop in embarrassment as she ran a hand down one of her messy braided pigtails.

Deciding not to tease the girl further, the triplet began to flip through the many pages piled up in front of him, before he stopped on a specific one as it was placed atop the pile. “It’s alright. You just helped me spell. The last thing you should be embarrassed about is knowing shit about science, sweetheart.” With a breathy chuckle, he ran his ring clad ring index finger under a messily written sentence of the page.

Sweetheart.

The pet name that the nervy girl would’ve never imagined lulling from his tongue, comes out sounding like a tantalizing melody, flowing from his perfect lips without a beat missed. She watched as his left hand that holds the pencil circles a few words nearing the edge of the page, with a slightly tremble. “See, here?” He underlines the words for extra measure, making her chest warm, the girl sending a quick nod.

“Good. That’s the first one. Organic chemistry.” He explains slowly, drawling out the word ‘Organic’ slower than the others. “The best way I can explain it is the study of the structure and properties, and preparation of carbon-containing compounds.” His eyes flick up to mine. “You got that?”

At his inquiry she found herself nodding, even though she really didn’t. “Mhm..” She forced a sweet smile on her pink lips. Matthew’s eyebrow lifts in suspicion, knowing that the unbeknownst mention of his explanation most definitely didn’t register with the girl, before looking back down to his page.

The inquiry had the girl nodding, feeling as if she was unable to form coherent sentence.

The girls one hand rests on the corner of his desk as she leaned over the surface, eyes dragging from the paper to his blue gaze. “Hm?” Matthew’s eyes flash with a foreign gleam as he she watched his hot stare drift between her lips and her dilated pupils, that showed the pure interest of their current lesson.

Many thoughts swarmed the girls mind, did he think I was stupid? Or that I was just not paying attention? Did he want to feel the impact of my lips against his as much I did his, or was I simply delusional?

The boy shook his head, clearing his throat while forcing his eyes back down onto the paper. “Physical chemistry is the branch of chemistry concerned with interactions and transformations of materials.” His voice came out with an underlining huskiness, the smokey octave sending chills up the girls arms. “You got that?” This time around, the girl found herself genuinely lost at the explanation, which resulted in the next encounter.

“Not exactly?” She nervously mumbled. “I’m still kinda’ confused.” The girl breathed out, hand gripping the edge of the males desk with anxiety. He must think I’m vapid.

She felt the air in her lungs being sucked out as she breathlessly gasped, Matt’s larger hand reaching out to mold atop of her smaller one. “That’s alright, yeah?” He muttered, feeling his own heart pick up in pace as he studied the anxiety ridden girl who stood aside him. “I’ll just have to do a better job explaining, hm?” She watched as he cocked his head, eyes flicking across her features as he awaited her gesture of agreement.

Instead, the girl felt herself in a lustrous state of mind, unable to stop the way her eyes trail their way to the hand that gripped her one hand. Her heart palpitated at the mere sight of the protruding veins that trailed across his large, slim hand.

The rings glittered in her eyes as the sun came through the window opposite to the two, glimmering against his perfectly fair skin.

Matt, immediately noticing the girls trance, doesn’t rush to remind her of her lack of response, instead watching silently as she used her thumb to trace one of the more prominent veins in the back of his hand. “Physical chemistry.” Matt’s lips parted as he watched the girls eyes flick from his hand to his eyes, pupils having doubled in size. “What’s the best way to explain that?” She murmured, tilting her head with a hint of innocence.

Within the girls peripheral vision she spots Matt’s opposite hand flinch from its balled place on the desk, almost as if he was stopping himself from reaching out. “I think it’d be easier if I were to just..” Both of the girls eyebrows of draw together with confusion, simultaneously being startled as Matt Sturniolo’s ring clad hand reaches out, and entraps the left side of her waist with a gentle, yet affirming grip “-show you.” He breathes out the second half of his sentence, his long fingers resting against Y/n’s back, his thumb gently pressing against her navel from the outside the blush-pink camisole.

She feels her jaw go slack while looking down at him, feeling her chest tighten with nerves as the warmth of his gaze roams along the girls facial features and expression.

Not that Matt would ever openly admit it, but he was most definitely gouging how the girl would react to the assorted touches he could offer her. “Matt..” The man feels his lips curve at the corners hearing her wary tone.

He decides to offer a gentle hum, his bottom lip feeding into his mouth with a small grunt. “What’re doing?” She whispered in that voice. The tone that had Matt going borderline crazy. Feeling Matthew’s hand mold around the dip of her waist, the girl spotted a darkness in the abyss of blue in his eyes as she emitted a small gasp.

His free hand slowly ran over his jaw, before chuckling. The girl feels her heart pick up at the husky chuckle coming from triplets mouth, her hand gripping the edge of his desk with more force. “Nothing, doll.” He mutters, whilst shaking his head dismissively.

The hand against her waist didn’t budge, as if Matt was in a trance by the sight of his hand, gripping her waist. Y/n feels her body immediately tense as his eyes lifted hers, and even if the male had caught the slight action that came from the girl, he didn’t pay mind to it. “Growing up, did teachers consider you audible learner? Or a more of a visual learner?”

As Matt’s soft voice drifted off into a undertone, the girl was abruptly startled with a loud yelp, as he waits no time for her response, instead use the hand that pressed into her side to nudge her onto the hard surface of Matt’s thigh. “Hm?” He hummed against her ear.

The feeling of his breath grazing her neck had the girls short and soft breaths, hitching in her throat. Goosebumps trickled over the flesh of her arms, the small hairs on the back of her neck flying up with anticipation. “Matt.” She whispered softly, the small whimper that came her lips gracing the boys ears, as she felt his smirk against her neck.

The bridge of his nose grazed along the span between her ear and neck, and as he came to the realization of their current condition, he feels his heart drop to his stomach. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, feeling the girl tense in his hold.

What was he doing? He thought to himself. Matt wasn’t like this- he was furthest thing from it. “I have no fuckin’ clue what’s wrong with me.” Matt quickly rushed out, and the girls back who brushes his front, feels the now pattering of his heart. “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/n.” He rambled.

Realizing the inner panic the male was currently experiencing, she felt a sense of guilt run through her blood. Did she do something wrong? Maybe I was too heavy to sit on his lap. The worrisome feeling she felt for Matt took over her mind, shifting in his lap she attempted to face him.

Matt audibly drew in a hitched breath as the girl shuffled around on his lap, his eyes dropping and seeing both of he girls perfect thighs on either side of his lap. The hem of her skirt flowed beneath his spread thighs, and just at the mere sight, he forces his eyes to the ceiling. Lord, give me the strength to not fuck this girl over my desk.

“Hey- you’re good. Honestly.” Matt shakes his head a murmuring something unknown under his breath, his heart skipping a beat as she tips his chin in my her direction. “Calm down, nothings wrong.” She assured him, nodding.

The boy mimics her movements, slowly nodding along. As the girl realizes her current stance, on top of Matthew Sturniolo’s lap, she finds herself become overtaken with embarrassment.

“I’m just gonna..” Matt trailed his words off into a whisper, before Y/n felt her wobbly frame being steadied by a large hand gently gripping her waist. Matthew feels the small flyaways of hair from her braided pigtails, that rested against her back, lightly tickle his cheeks as she looked down at him.

The twos eyes were aligned with a starstruck contact, and though they both attempted to cover their nervousness with a plain expression, they both felt the same desire for each other. The girl hears a small hiss come from the boys lips, her cheeks immediately flushing as she realizes it was because she had just barely moved from her place in his lap.

Simultaneously, she felt her self esteem plummeting as the first thought she had was that she must’ve been heavy on his lap. The mere thought had a frown upon the girls nipped at lips.

Matt, immediately noticing the upside down smile, felt his eyebrows draw together with both wary and curiousity at the sudden switch of the girls mood. “I’ll get up.” She musters weakly, desperately trying to keep her line of sight on the horse chain that was woven around his neck, simply unable to meet his blazing ones.

Seeing as Matt wanted to find out what was happening, or what had gone wrong, he opened his lips to ask the burning question, is everything fine? Is what he would’ve asked, that was until the girl decided to take then of all times, to shift her hips forward as a failed attempt to loosen herself from his grasp.

“Fuck.”

Y/n found her jaw dropping, as the obscene sound came from Matt’s lips. Did I hurt him? She wondered, heart beating painfully in her chest. The girls eyes, still, previously glossy from the prior interaction, blink down at the dark haired man’s current state. Matt’s head was now tipped back against the of his seat, chest moving up and down while is eyes fluttered shut. “Sorry- did I hurt you?” Her nose wrinkling with embarrassment.

At the sound of the nymph’s tantalizing voice, Matt’s eyes lulled open. He felt his adams apple bob at the sight of the girl straddling his lap, looking down at him with widened eyes that would’ve looked absolutely pornographic to any other man.

Though the triplet knew she was genuinely perplexed. As well as him, she couldn’t force her eyes from the boy beneath her. With every inhale he took Y/n spotted the muscles in his shoulders bulge through the black T-shirt, Ransom, embroidered onto the chest. His blue eyes had sunken down with an inner darkness, though still glancing up at her through his eyelashes.

Matt’s eyes open with a shaky breath, offering the girl a small shake of the head. “No.” Be breathes out, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he looked up at Y/n. “Just maybe- don’t do that again?” He says as more of a recommendation then a statement, voice deep in an undertone.

The girl takes beat before the realization came over her. “Oh.” She whispered, her cheeks splashing with warmth.

Matt sees this, feeling his lips curve into a smirk, whilst simultaneously using every bone in his body to ignore the girls pulsing heat resting directly on the now very obvious tent of the carpenter jeans he wore.

“Oh.” He repeated in mockery, chuckling lightly.

Even with the heatwave of tension that was currently taking over the boy, he still battled through the almost nauseating warmth coursing through his body, to observe the girl’s reactions and movements. The way her hips would shift atop the growing hardness beneath her needy, clothed cunt, or the small lewd sounds that would occasionally emit from her parted lips.

Or the way he audibly heard the girls breath hitch at his next action, Matthew’s arm swinging around the head of his hair, leaning the weight of his body onto the surface to find a comfortable position for his aching lower half. She immediately gasps, two hands flying out to grip each side of the head of the chair.

It was as if the ball of need inside her abdomen had built by ten, the fluttering sensation she felt between her legs never coming to an end as she felt her thighs attempt to clench. This, of course, failed. “You alright doll?” Matt watched the girls face morph into a pained expression at the realization that she was unable to alleviate the desperation building within her core.

Both knees sit on either side of the triplets thighs, acting as a barrier between hers, as she tightened her legs to close them together. As if she was unable to form a coherent sentence, Y/n offered a curt nod while forcing her hazy gaze anywhere but his face. “I didn’t quite catch that, speak up..” The hand on her waist was suddenly gripping my jaw and tipping my chin up. “I can’t hear you from down there.” He taunts, eyes twinkling with an unknown objective.

Y/n found her completely struck with whiplash at the sudden switch up of his body language. Once soft toned, with a timid persona that came across as shyness, now completely morphed into a dominant character.

Feeling her eyelashes feather against the no doubt, pink tinted skin of her cheeks, she blinked down at the triplet as her eyes went round. “I-I didn’t-” She whimpered and cut herself off as Matt’s eyes bored into hers with a blazing darkness beneath the soft facade.

Matt lifted his one brow, waiting for the trembling girl to go in with her sentence. As silence fills the room, Matt sighed softly. “That’s no good, huh?” He tutted in a condescending manner, head tipping to the side in a cock as he leered up at her.

As if the air in her lungs tore away from her, Y/n’s silent streak was very short lived, much to her dismay. “Fuck.” She cried, the hands that rested on the head of his chair slipping down to grip his shoulders. Matt yet again, lifted his hips against hers, though this time it made it abundantly evident that it was purposeful.

Matt felt as if his body wasn’t in his own control, the will of being able to contain the desperate urge of tainting the girls innocence, long gone. He whispered small curses and whimpers to himself as his head tipped back, his body on the closest thing to autopilot, feeling his hips roll up into the girls core.

The barrier of clothing between the two bodies did close to nothing at stopping the friction between the girls beating heat, and the triplets painfully, aching erection.“Matt,” Y/n swallowed the lump she felt in her throat, taking a momentary break to emit the small whine from the feeling of the ridge of Matt’s hard cock pushing against her clit. “-slow- slow down.” Matt feels his body begin to warm with a fuzzy sensation against his heart, as the worked up girls head fell onto his shoulder, cooing to himself softly at the sound of her soft pants.

The feeling of his stronger hand that had gripped her waist faltered away, before she felt the cold silver of his rings pressing into her cheek as he gently tipped her jaw up. “Hm? What was that?” He taunted for what seemed like the fifth time, his index and middle finger patting the girls cheek.

At that, Y/n felt herself grounding her hips onto him, making her feel like a complete and utter mess. It wasn’t necessary a slap, but she would’ve definitely considered it more than a gentle tap.

The irregular pattern of Matthew’s hips rolling into her core left her breathless, frustrated as he would abruptly slow down, leaving her desperate for more, before suddenly rutting his hard on into her needy heat. “Please.” She pleaded against his neck, the few tears of desperation finally falling.

Matt, feeling the salty wetness running down the span of his jaw and neck, felt a sense of pride. He wouldn’t consider himself a sadist, or anything along the lines of finding himself turned on by inflicting pain onto others. But there was something so profound and satisfying, seeing how the girl was falling apart to pieces, in his arms, because of him.

Feeling Y/n’s body move at a faster pace than normal as she inhaled and exhaled, Matt tipped his head down and allowed the tip of his nose to graze along the junction between her jaw and neck, leaving a soft peck against the dewy skin. “Cmon’ now.” He placed both hands on either side of her hips, effortlessly lifting her bottom half, groaning as he helped her move her hips along his cock.

This action immediately had her exhausted body, that had fell against his chest awakening like fireworks blooming across a dark sky. “Matt.” He grunted against her neck, though the recognition of hearing the girl saying the triplets name went unanswered, seeing as she just needed to know that he was there.

Cause of course he was there physically, very much so. It was more that she yearned to have him cherish the moment she fell apart in his arms.

To run his slim fingers through her now tangled hair as she bit down onto his shoulder, feeling a whole new wave of arousal come over her as she hears his whimper at the action. Y/n felt his two warm hands comfortingly squeeze the backs of her thighs, as a silent gesture that he had understood the girls feelings. “Sorry baby.” He whispered against her neck, heavily breathing as she felt his erection pulse between her legs.

She felt Matt’s right hand begin to glide up her waist, stopping anywhere and every where on the journey up to mold his grip against, reminding himself that the current event was actually happening. The hand slipped around one of her braids, two of the other fingers pressing against the back of her neck as he tugged her head up to look into his dark gaze.

“Have I been ignoring you? My greedy girl needs a little more attention, hm?” His tone was condensing and mean, making her breathe out a small moan. “Oh?” He mused, seeing the bob of her head. “That’s my fault, huh? My apologies sweetheart. It’s hard to decipher what you really want when you’re grinding on my dick, like a bitch in heat.” He murmured softly.

The contrast of his tone and words were striking. The words spoken were filthy, sounding like a sin flowing from his tongue. But the tone, the tone was soft and gentle, melodic with a gentle touch of sweet innocence lulling from his perfectly bitten at lips.

The piercing ends of the girls pink nails dug into Matthew’s shoulders, resulting a small whimper emitting from his lips, intermittently tearing down the wall of dominance he’d had up. The lack of relief she so desperately wanted, or rather now needed, wasn’t being fulfilled, making her eyes glisten with tears of frustration. Even science wasn’t this hard.

Pun intended.

Y/n let out a pathetic moan against his neck, too far into the rabbit whole of pleasure that was Matthew Sturniolo, continuing to roll her hips into his. “You.” She breathed against his neck. Matt hummed in response, squeezing her hips.

“Hm?”

Blinking away the haziness in her eyes to look up at his clearly. “I want you.” At that, Matt thrusted his hips up into her dripping core with a guttural moan.

You. Him. Matt.

She wanted him, and even though he’d already known this from the time her needy cunt had landed on his clothed dick, hearing it come from her lips, in that angelic fucking voice, had brought him closer to his release ten times faster. “I know, doll. I know.” He breathed out, Y/n watching his head as it fell back against his seat whilst his blue eyes fluttered shut.

Matt uses his one hand that rested on her backside, to gently guide her lower half forward into his painfully hard erection, emitting small whimpers while doing so. The way he felt her pulsing heat through both of their clothed bottom halves told him that she was getting closer to her relief, bringing him to his faster. “Close?” He murmured against her neck.

She could only offer a moan as a reply, shivering as his breath fluttered against her pulse as a warm breeze during dusk. Matt’s fingers toyed with the hem of her pleated skirt as she grounded down onto the prominent tent in his jeans, trying to distract himself from coming before the girl.

After all, he always was a gentleman.

“Fuck.” Y/n whispered against the shell of his ear in a small cry, and Matt felt his stomach tighten at the feeling of her thighs trembling on either side of his. As the male was partially to deep into his own pleasure, all he was able to do was run his one hand down the small of her back, as he soothed her through the overwhelming pressure of her release.

Y/n heard the small cures and whimpers that emitted from Matt’s lips, and even as the overwhelming sensation of her past release was still overcoming her body, she did her best to comfort the triplet as well as she mustered. “So good.” She murmured against the shell of his ear, panting softly. “You’re doing so good, Matt.”

Fuck, his eyes rolled back as well has the ball in his abdomen had suddenly tensed. “Shit.” He whimpered, squeezing the backs of her thighs. “Gonna’ come.” He breathed out, making Y/n hum softly against the nape of his neck.

I’m here. We’re both here. Together.

Y/n glided her nails against his scalp as he rode out the aftermath of his release, whispering sweet nothings in his ears at the feeling of his hard thighs trembling against hers. “Holy fuck.” He breathed out, tipping his head back with a soft grunt. “I’m so happy I decided to be a dick on this exact day.” Y/n’s head lifted a bit, lifting an eyebrow.

Was he serious?

The two both jumped at the sound of a blaring bell, as well as coming to reality of what they’d both just done. Their eyes tuned into each others, lips parted with shock at their own actions. Y/n cleared her throat, sitting up a bit as her cheeks flushed. “Good luck with the test.” She muttered, tilting her head.

Matt drew his lips into a line, ignoring the urge to smile at the girls words. “Best wishes with that whole- Demi Moore ordeal.” Her shoulders fell.

Men.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ~ @graysturns @imwetforyourmom

[sweetimpurity]

{💓} day 27!! coming in a little late whoopsie! hopefully everyone likes this ending, I think it's a little bit of everything all in one! love ya! thanks for keeping up with this! wc: 1.8k {💖}

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Earth 546

The ride to the hospital is long and painful. Closing your eyes from the pressure and ache in your head, shooting up from your nose and aching behind your eyes. Miguel sits with you, holding your hand and mentally cursing himself. He should have realized what he had before he lost it. The two months he was without you, they were the worst. Wondering where you were. If you were safe. His multiple screens where he’d spend countless hours scouring his databases for any information that might reveal your whereabouts. And working with Lyla to track that portal. Eventually falling down the rabbit hole that led him to you finally. 

And now this. To see you’ve managed to latch onto this so quickly. This version of himself that was ready to give you everything. He just feels so bad. He let you down. He sighs, leaning his head down on yours. Those years you’ve spent together at the front of his mind. He can’t blame you for the way you reacted. Just accepting Mig’s love because it was the thing you needed all along. 

Mig keeps looking back in the rearview mirror as he drives. Keeping an eye on you and Miguel in the back. He knows he did wrong. But his intentions were pure. His only intention was to give you love. Love you’d been longing for. And to escape that life he'd been stuck in forever. But he did that at the cost of lying right to your face and taking you from the home you knew. 

“We’re here…” He sighs, looking back at the two of you in the backseat. Pulling into the emergency room parking lot. Miguel perks up, turning off his suit and the nanotech disappears, leaving him in his regular clothes. An outfit you recognize. Those gray pants and the light gray long sleeve with the thumb cutouts. An ache in your chest. Realizing this really is your Miguel. Looking in his eyes over the mess of tissue at your nose. He just gives you a knowing look, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay…”

Mig does the same. His suit disappearing and his work clothes underneath. Running a hand through his messy hair. Parking the car and sighing. 

The three of you make it out of the car and through the automatic doors. Entering the waiting room and getting a few looks from people. These two hulking twins escorting a bleeding you through the lobby. Like guard dogs. Glaring at anyone who dares look your way. Miguel holding your hand and Mig’s hand on your back guiding you through to the front desk. 

Soon you’re getting tended to by a kind older nurse. Cleaning up your bloody nose and giving you some stronger pain killers to help with the swelling. At your request, the boys are waiting out in the lobby. Sitting with an empty chair between them. Crossed arms and huffs, frowning at the floor and waiting for you to return. 

Each of them has a few choice words for the other. 

“You couldn’t have picked a dimension with some higher tech? This place is like 2030…” Miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. Glaring around at the hospital. If they were on Earth 928, he’d be able to treat your broken nose himself in minutes in his lab. But since Mig did all this, this is what they have to settle for. 

“This place seemed safe…” Mig says, staring blankly at the floor. 

Miguel scoffs, looking at him with a furrowed brow. “You act like we’re not superhuman geniuses… who can quite literally jump between dimensions. We can do anything we want and not many people could stop you…” Miguel says matter of factly. Clasping his hands together. 

“My dimension’s messed up… ” Mig says. Blinking and tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Everything feels wrong there… things glitch, my whole life there was like one big glitch.”

Miguel nods and listens. Feeling empathetic to his struggle. He can understand why he did what he did. But he still can’t help but feel it’s his duty to make things right with you. Whatever that may mean. Even if it means you leaving him for good this time. All this started with you two, it should be resolved that way too. 

“Well there are a lot of universes out there… People like you and me aren’t meant to stay in just one. Your whole life could be waiting for you and you wouldn’t even know it.” Miguel says. Feeling more optimistic than usual. Of course, he sees his own struggle in his fellow Miguel. 

“Whatever happens now… it’s gonna be her decision. And we’ll have to take it as it is.”

It’s silent for a bit before the doors open finally and you walk out with an ice pack in hand. A butterfly bandage over your swollen nose. But you’re all cleaned up now. Walking over and instead of sitting in between then, you sit across from them, facing them. The three of you settling into a heavy silence.

“I’m sorry…” Mig is the first to speak. Not looking up at the two of you yet. Looking down at his hands. It’s quiet, letting his apology sink in. 

“Yeah I’m really sorry… I don’t know what I was thinking…” Mig sighs. “I didn’t want to hurt you… but I should have been honest from the beginning.” He hums more seriously. His eyes flicking up and expecting to see hatred in your expression but your face is surprisingly soft. 

“And I’m sorry…” Miguel says. And you find his eyes on you. His apology feeling much more heavy. Three years of your life you spent with this man. This was all pretty messed up to begin with. Both of them messed up big time. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you either… but I was selfish… and ignorant. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone...” Miguel huffs. Looking in your eyes. 

“I guess we’re just wired to love you… in every dimension…” Miguel says with a slight sad smile. The two of them watching you from across the row of seating. 

“Me too…” You sigh with a pained grin.

5 years later… Earth 928

You’re home. Back where you started. After having spent some time away from any and all versions of Miguel O’hara. After the hospital, you said goodbye. You gave the ring back and a tearful goodbye to Mig who wished you nothing but love and joy in your life. And he told you about his plans to explore more of the multiverse and try to establish his own life somewhere, instead of framing his life off of the variants that are his parallel, but not his mirror. 

Getting back home, you decided it was best to part ways with Miguel as well. At least for a while. After the deep hurt he caused, you needed to heal on your own for a while and figure out what you want and how to love yourself first. You landed a promotion the next year, moving up a position at your job surprisingly after having to explain to them the very unique reason for your two month absence. Picked up some new hobbies after getting your own apartment. Growing flowers and herbs on the fire escape and who knew you could paint?! Made some new friends in the neighborhood. And all was well. 

Miguel spent his time focusing on the Spider Society. Guiding his team to protect the multiverse and working to preserve the precious timelines from running out of control. He was able to do so with the help of Lyla, Peter B, Jess and all the spider teens. And finally after five years, he’s passing the Society off to those teens who are now adults. Spiderpeople in their own right and passionate about keeping the multiverse and all its inhabitants safe. And leading the Society as a united front. Knowing it will take them some time to grow into the role but he’s willing to help them all along the way. 

Miguel plans to take a step back from the Society. And from his work as Spiderman 2099 as a whole. What with the baby on the way, he wants to be able to spend all his important time with you. 

One year ago, you reconnected. After spending nearly 4 years apart, he happened to check in and it happened to be on the date of your anniversary. Talking about old memories changed to talking over dinner again. And without half his mind distracted by the multiversal collapse, he could focus on you and only you. He can’t help but feel oddly grateful to Mig all those years ago for making him see what he was missing, making him realize what he was losing. You. 

This time he wasted no time. Proposing to you six months later and knowing it’s right this time. Not wanting to lose you, not wanting to risk you feeling the way you did ever again. Wanting to do right by you. From now on and always.  

You were married in a tiny ceremony at HQ. Peter B cried, Miles did too. 

And now a few months after that, you’re pregnant with your very first! It’s all you ever dreamt of. All you wanted. The family, the stability, the feeling of home with the man you love. And you have to feel grateful to Mig too because he showed you, you were deserving of unconditional love. At the time, Miguel just couldn’t show it. Right person, wrong time. But he’s learned better now.

Miguel has already been decorating the nursery with little pink web designs. Full papa spider mode getting the nest ready for the arrival of your little one. And though the journey hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing… you’re together at last and on the same page. And Mig 731 isn’t doing too bad himself…

…

Mig traveled the multiverse all these years. Going to worlds he never knew existed. Timelines that are so different from his own. Always searching for a new adventure and coming out of his shell. The shell his broken dimension always forced him into. Feeling a freedom he never had before. Not when he was sitting at home, watching other Miguel’s have lives he could only dream of having. Not readily having the technology to actually get out and seize his chance. 

Along the way, he even met a certain someone who took his breath away. You. From Earth 764A. A feisty spider woman and the prettiest in the multiverse. And when he learned you didn’t have a Miguel in your timeline, it was like the gates of fate opened and he saw the light. The two of you traveling to fantastic worlds unknown! And falling in love all the while. Spending the rest of his days with you, the only version of you that he feels he was meant to find. Miguel was right, his whole life was out there waiting for him. You were out there waiting for him. He just had to go looking...

And they all lived happily ever after… 

The end. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

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if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2+:

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