#this is how he waits for you at home to come back from work

[blkkizzat]

❝AYY, FUCK YO IG, I PUT SOMETHIN' ON YO SONOGRAM— I'M THE MAN.ᐟ❞

─•──── FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBO!READER

꥟ summary: farm au. you and toji can't keep your hands off each other since he first turned you out in the barn and he's determined to put a baby in you ASAP! ꥟ wc: 2088 ꥟ a/n: I had to do something for my mans for his bday and I MADE it in my time zone at least (pst) FarmHand!Toji just comes so easy to me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY TOJI.ᐟ

[ read p1: here ]

FarmHand!Toji who after the first time fucking you senseless in the barn can't keep his hands off of you. God, it's so hard for him to get any chores and shit done when your young tight cunny spreads so willingly for him.

Out in the pastures, the herd of cows block the distant view of the both of you from the farm. Making it the perfect location for Toji to freely fuck you sloppy like you've been pouting for all morning.

Wanting to tease his sweet lil' Bunny, Toji would have made you wait even longer (so he could do a bit of actual work) but you always kept him on his toes. You were so much of a brat you pushed limits with him constantly.

This time your achieve your naughty goal by flashing him your pantyless pussy.

"Whoops, must have forgot to put some on this morning! I'm so silly huh, Daddy?"

You bat your lashes and sway your jiggling hips so innocently. Like the hot sun wasn't glistening off the gooey slick drenching your puffy pussy lips —it was fucking obscene.

Obviously, Toji is hard instantly but you still needed to be taught a lesson and he'd yet to keep his promise of 'fucking some manners into your haughty cunt.'

You clearly still didn't know how to act.

What with his lil' Bunny skipping around the farm all morning bare assed and so nonchalantly too?

How many times does he have to remind you he'd kill someone over you?

No one else was allowed to see what belonged to him alone...

Jealous as hell, Toji angerily snatches you up as you squee in excitement finally getting what you'd been craving. Easily flipping you over, Toji's large muscular arms drapes you over the old wooden fence like you were a mere feather.

The fact that Toji was supposed to be patching up said fence, not causing further structural damage from how hard he was about to tear your ass up is not lost on him. He simply just can't bring himself to give a fuck at the moment, not when you get him so riled up like this. Pushing your thin white sundress up your back, Toji doesn't even need to prepare you before he ruts into your heated core. Honestly, it didn't take Toji long at all to mold your pretty lil' pussy to the shape of his stocky girth. Your wet warm hole welcomes him back eagerly like it was his home. The pull of that creamy cunny of yours sucking him deeper to the hilt—even before his own hips could shealth himself fully inside—shit.

"That's a good girl bunny, that pussy opens up so good f'er me now, n'—HELL... She's just as fuckin' tight too."

Pistoning forward, Toji doesn't waste time with warming you up with slow strokes.

Not when you act out like this.

He knows once you get this way you are practically begging for him to pound you rough, deep and fast.

True to the nickname he bestowed you Bunny, you wanted him to fuck you stupid like one daily. Demanding Toji's hefty cock be plunged into your cunt during all hours of the day—especially at night.

Your slutty pussy was so hungry for his dick stretching her, you even foolishly volunteered the farm's security codes to Toji. Meaning he could slip not only in and out of your room at night —but the farm entirely. This was excellent for the illegal business he was forming under the cover of the farm.

Little risk of getting caught now too.

That old farmer slept like the dead and he'd been able to bribe the less than scrupulous night security workers.

Heh. Smuggling contraband in now was a breeze.

But in order for his plan to be put fully in motion he needed to knock you up quickly. Cumming in your quivering pussy 3-4 times a day was a necessity and Toji was more than up for the task.

He needed a baby in you yesterday.

And yet the way your greedy pussy hungered for him, strangling his length every time you came on his cock for the nth time made him think she secretly wanted to be a mommy too —you were the only one who didn't know that yet. You milked him so well like you were made for Toji to breed you —just waiting all this time for his nefarious ex-con cock to destroy you.

Toji grunts escalate as the old fence creaks and shakes from him brutishly bullying himself further into your guts. You moan deeply with every maddening thrust of his pelvis forcing his thick meaty cockhead to kiss your womb.

"Shiiit..Mmmm—OOOH!" The rebound of your plump ass ripples against his pelvis and Toji thinks its his favorite sight in the world. Both hands on your hips, Toji digs crescents into your flesh as he drives him into you over and over, deeper and deeper. The vulgar noises of moist skin slapping echo from your bodies —bodies which only get hotter and wetter under the oppressive heat of the sun and it's all so intoxicating. Your chest heaves as you take desperate breathes, your lungs struggle to even expand with how roughly Toji plowing into you.

There's nothing you can do but dangle there and let Daddy Toji use you like he wanted—not that you would have it any other way, loving when his cock purees your mind into just as much of the sloppy mess as your pussy. Toji could tell by your cries too just how your ass liked to be ferally manhandled like you were one of these barn animals.

"Yeah that's right my slutty brat 'moo' louder f'er Daddy while ya squirt on his cock. Ya wanna let this whole farm know who's making you feel this good, huh ma?"

You whine at Toji likening your pleasure filled sobs to that of cow noises but you're needy 'lil cunny only squeezes him tighter —just as he knew she would. Toji knows how much you like him talking crazy to you when he's fucking you six ways to Sunday, balls smacking your clit.

Thankfully no one could actually hear you from way out here. Meaning he was free to spew all kinds of nasty shit into your ear drawing even more slobber from your swollen pussy lips. It only made you hotter on the inside your mind only focusing on his debased dirty talk and the drag of his cock against your g-spot —Toji was hitting it perfectly from this angle. "Ya know ya fuckin' suck at milking cows but this juicy pussy? She sure knows how t'milk a cock like its 'er job." And it would be your job too if Toji had any say. Fuck going back to school at the end of summer and fuck getting a career. You didn't need to do anything but lay on your back and let Toji do the rest. Heh, you wouldn't be able to do much else but be on your back once you started growing his kids inside you anyway. He'd keep you nice n fucked out to the point you'd almost stay pregnant.

Spanking your ass harshly, the sting fills fresh tears on your already bleary eyes. You squeak between your pitchy moans as your pussy weeps so much of your arousal around your sex and down your thighs the squelchy gurgles of your creamy cunt are heard throughout the field.

"S'gudddd Daddy! HAH—HARDER!!"

You really are the perfect slut for him. Wanting him to go harder?

Could you even handle that?

As your reward Toji gifts you another spank, shaking the fence entirely now as it sways on its exposed hinges. It's a miracle it's still standing.

But Toji was determined to have you all for himself, to have everything —you, the farm, a wife —to bring Megumi here away from his twisted ass family so you could be the mother he never had. Thoughts of domesticating you makes him want to bust in you even more as he chases his release.

Wrapping an arm around your middle Toji lifts you so he can thumb at your clit. The rough pad of his thickest digit scrapes over your bud sending rapid tingles through your body that has drool pouring out of your mouth and cunt. "Daddy's gonna put his milk in y'er tummy, yeah Bunny? Tell me ya want it slutty mama —beg me f'er it."

But you can't beg, you can't do anything but ride the rapturous wave of pleasure radiating from your core as you squirt on his cock like a good Bunny. Your orgasm following soon after with enough force from erratic rhythm of spasms in your walls to make Toji spurt is scorching seed inside you. Filling your womb as you purr from the sensation.

Toji bites harshly down on your shoulder —another mark you'd have to hide from your uncle —who thought you were just a rather clumsy girl getting so many marks on you from your farm chores.

Slicked in sweat and your gushy pussy's fluids Toji slumps forward still inside you, his entire weight bearing down on you.

"T-Tojiiiii!" You whine in that pretty, utterly angelic way Toji usually can't resist but he had to keep his cock plugged in you a bit longer if he wanted a baby in you by the end of the month. He eases up a bit though, rubbing your sore ass cheeks and murmuring something about 'when he finally gets to use your ass' as his thumb ghosts aimlessly over your puckered hole.

When Toji finally pulls out of you, you're barely standing. Slumping your elbows on the fence, your hips went a bit numb from being folded like a pancake over the rough wood fence with a big man like Toji putting his weight on you.

Truthfully, Toji didn't even want to pull out. He could go a few more but you need to get back to the farm soon before your uncle came around looking. He'd question you if you kept missing lunch everything.

As if you could read Toji's thoughts you pipe up, voice a bit hoarse already from all your moaning. "I told my uncle I'd probably walk to the lake again today. So he won't be expecting me back until the evening, you know..." After enough feeling returns to your lower body you push off the fence and prance over to a nearby tree at the edge of the clearing. Pulling off your dress fully you lay it down on the lush green grass in the shade. Fully nude, the sun peeks through the shade's leaves, decorating your skin in its shadowed rays.

You stretch like a cat on your makeshift dress-blanket. Spreading your legs wide and arching, you gaze over to Toji from under your babydoll lashes. He's already on his way over to you. "Looks like I'm your lunch today Daddy... c'mon n' eat me up before I get cold."

Oh you didn't know what you fucking did to him... or maybe you did?

You were clever sure but all reason flew out the window when it came to Toji from the minute he first jammed his cock into your lewd sappy cunt.

Heh, you wanted FarmHand!Toji to ruin you? Well little did you know that's exactly what he planned to do anyway— trap you, and ruin your life and that pussy of yours at the same time.

꥟

Back on farm an old dusty white bus stops at the gate.

A lone prisoner exits, a man accused of being a serial killer— 27 victims all skinned and gutted mercilessly like fish in under two years.

However, the man has always protested his innocence.

The evidence at best was circumstantial, with a conviction based solely off of a lone witness who was later proven to be unreliable. As a result the appeal of his life sentence is currently in process, much to the excitement and anger, respectfully, of both his many supporters and detractors.

Yet the way his P.O. comically cowers is a stark contrast to the vibe of the prisoner. The tall, well built convict appears calm, somber even.

This was really the man that killed 27 people?

His eyes survey his surroundings with the hesitant curiosity of a puppy—nothing like the dangerous threat the courts or his P.O. make him out to be. Handed over into your uncle's care, the flighty P.O. quickly gets back on the bus, signalling the driver to get ghost quickly as if your uncle would change his mind at the last minute.

Your uncle on the other hand isn't intimidated at all by the notorious, supposedly innocent, pigtailed cold blooded killer. "Welcome to the farm, son. Like I tell everyone, just do as your told and stay outta trouble —you'll do fine I reckon. Don't fuck this up now, boy. In your case especially, this is the chance to prove yourself worthy of an appeal or its back to solitary for life Choso Kamo."

꥟

♡ blkkizzat ©2023-2025 ♡ — 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫— 𝐚𝐢 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

꥟ a/n: oh hehe, i wonder what will come of toji's plan now that Farmhand!Choso has arrived 😈😩? Also y'all think he's innocent or guilty? 💕🤭 tysm for reading! lol idk if i end up writing more of this but this is my no pressure, for fun project (i whipped this up in like 3 hrs so whether i will or when it will come out i can't say~ i already have sm on my plate but farmhand!toji is special to meee and its his bday so had to run it back on him. i may come back edit this since i was rushing sorry for any mistakes! reblogs and comments appreciated!

[kalmidnight]

(from The Book of Virtues, A Treasury of Great Moral Stories, an anthology by William Bennett)

The Magic Thread

Too often, people want what they want (or what they think they want, which is usually "happiness" in one form or another) right now. The irony of their impatience is that only by learning to wait, and by a willingness to accept the bad with the good, do we usually attain those things that are truly worthwhile. "He that can have patience, can have what he will," Benjamin Franklin told us, and this French tale bears him out.

Once there was a widow who had a son called Peter. He was a strong, able boy, but he did not enjoy going to school and he was forever daydreaming."

Peter, what are you dreaming about this time?" his teacher would say to him.

"I'm thinking about what I'll be when I grow up," Peter replied.

"Be patient. There's plenty of time for that. Being grown up isn't all fun, you know," his teacher said.

But Peter found it hard to enjoy whatever he was doing at the moment, and was always hankering after the next thing. In winter he longed for it to be summer again, and in summer he looked forward to the skating, sledging, and warm fires of winter. At school he would long for the day to be over so that he could go home, and on Sunday nights he would sigh, "If only the holidays would come." What he enjoyed most was playing with his friend Liese. She was as good a companion as any boy, and no matter how impatient Peter was, she never took offense. "When I grow up, I shall marry Liese," Peter said to himself.

Often he wandered through the forest, dreaming of the future. Sometimes he lay down on the soft forest floor in the warm sun, his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky through the distant treetops. One hot afternoon as he began to grow sleepy, he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and sat up. Standing before him was an old woman. In her hand she held a silver ball, from which dangled a silken golden thread.

"See what I have got here, Peter," she said, offering the ball to him.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, touching the fine golden thread.

"This is your life thread," the old woman replied. "Do not touch it and time will pass normally. But if you wish time to pass more quickly, you have only to pull the thread a little way and an hour will pass like a second. But I warn you, once the thread has been pulled out, it cannot be pushed back in again. It will disappear like a puff of smoke. The ball is for you. But if you accept my gift you must tell no one, or on that very day you shall die. Now, say, do you want it?"

Peter seized the gift from her joyfully. It was just what he wanted. He examined the silver ball. It was light and solid, made of a single piece. The only flaw in it was the tiny hole from which the bright thread hung. He put the ball in his pocket and ran home. There, making sure that his mother was out, he examined it again. The thread seemed to be creeping very slowly out of the ball, so slowly that it was scarcely noticeable to the naked eye. He longed to give it a quick tug, but dared not do so. Not yet.

The following day at school, Peter sat daydreaming about what he would do with his magic thread. The teacher scolded him for not concentrating on his work. If only, he thought, it was time to go home. Then he felt the silver ball in his pocket. If he pulled out a tiny bit of thread, the day would be over. Very carefully he took hold of it and tugged. Suddenly the teacher was telling everyone to pack up their books and to leave the classroom in an orderly fashion. Peter was overjoyed. He ran all the way home. How easy life would be now! All his troubles were over. From that day forth he began to pull the thread, just a little, every day.

One day, however, it occurred to him that it was stupid to pull the thread just a little each day. If he gave it a harder tug, school would be over altogether. Then he could start learning a trade and marry Liese. So that night he gave the thread a hard tug, and in the morning he awoke to find himself apprenticed to a carpenter in town. He loved his new life, clambering about on roofs and scaffolding, lifting and hammering great beams into place that still smelled of the forest. But sometimes, when payday seemed too far off, he gave the thread a little tug and suddenly the week was drawing to a close and it was Friday night and he had money in his pocket.

Liese had also come to town and was living with her aunt, who taught her housekeeping. Peter began to grow impatient for the day when they would be married. It was hard to live so near and yet so far from her. He asked her when they could be married.

"In another year," she said. "Then I will have learned how to be a capable wife."

Peter fingered the silver ball in his pocket."Well, the time will pass quickly enough," he said, knowingly.

That night Peter could not sleep. He tossed and turned restlessly. He took the magic ball from under his pillow. For a moment he hesitated; then his impatience got the better of him, and he tugged at the golden thread. In the morning he awoke to find that the year was over and that Liese had at last agreed to marry him. Now Peter felt truly happy.

But before their wedding could take place, Peter received an official-looking letter. He opened it in trepidation and read that he was expected to report at the army barracks the following week for two years' military service. He showed the letter to Liese in despair. "Well," she said, "there is nothing for it, we shall just have to wait. But the time will pass quickly, you'll see. There are so many things to do in preparation for our life together." Peter smiled bravely, knowing that two years would seem a lifetime to him.

Once Peter had settled into life at the barracks, however, he began to feel that it wasn't so bad after all. He quite enjoyed being with all the other young men, and their duties were not very arduous at first. He remembered the old woman's warning to use the thread wisely and for a while refrained from pulling it. But in time he grew restless again. Army life bored him with its routine duties and harsh discipline. He began pulling the thread to make the week go faster so that it would be Sunday again, or to speed up the time until he was due for leave. And so the two years passed almost as if they had been a dream.

Back home, Peter determined not to pull the thread again until it was absolutely necessary. After all, this was the best time of his life, as everyone told him. He did not want it to be over too quickly. He did, however, give the thread one or two very small tugs, just to speed along the day of his marriage. He longed to tell Liese his secret, but he knew that if he did he would die.

On the day of his wedding, everyone, including Peter, was happy. He could hardly wait to show Liese the house he had built for her. At the wedding feast he glanced over at his mother. He noticed for the first time how gray her hair had grown recently. She seemed to be aging so quickly. Peter felt a pang of guilt that he had pulled the thread so often. Henceforward he would be much more sparing with it and only use it when it was strictly necessary.

A few months later Liese announced that she was going to have a child. Peter was overjoyed and could hardly wait. When the child was born, he felt that he could never want for anything again. But whenever the child was ill or cried through the sleepless night, he gave the thread a little tug, just so that the baby might be well and happy again.

Times were hard. Business was bad and a government had come to power that squeezed the people dry with taxes and would tolerate no opposition. Anyone who became known as a troublemaker was thrown into prison without trial and rumor was enough to condemn a man. Peter had always been known as one who spoke his mind, and very soon he was arrested and cast into jail. Luckily he had his magic ball with him and he tugged very hard at the thread. The prison walls dissolved before him and his enemies were scattered in the huge explosion that burst forth like thunder. It was the war that had been threatening, but it was over as quickly as a summer storm, leaving behind it an exhausted peace. Peter found himself back home with his family. But now he was a middle-aged man.

For a time things went well and Peter lived in relative contentment. One day he looked at his magic ball and saw to his surprise that the thread had turned from gold to silver. He looked in the mirror. His hair was starting to turn gray and his face was lined where before there had not been a wrinkle to be seen. He suddenly felt afraid and determined to use the thread even more carefully than before. Liese bore him more children and he seemed happy as the head of his growing household. His stately manner often made people think of him as some sort of benevolent ruler. He had an air of authority as if he held the fate of others in his hands. He kept his magic ball in a well-hidden place, safe from the curious eyes of his children, knowing that if anyone were to discover it, it would be fatal.

As the number of his children grew, so his house became more overcrowded. He would have to extend it, but for that he needed money. He had other worries too. His mother was looking older and more tired every day. It was of no use to pull the magic thread because that would only hasten her approaching death. All too soon she died, and as Peter stood at her graveside, he wondered how it was that life passed so quickly, even without pulling the magic thread.

One night as he lay in bed, kept awake by his worries, he thought how much easier life would be if all his children were grown up and launched upon their careers in life. He gave the thread a mighty tug, and the following day he awoke to find that his children had all left home for jobs in different parts of the country, and that he and his wife were alone. His hair was almost white now and often his back and limbs ached as he climbed the ladder or lifted a heavy beam into place. Liese too was getting old and she was often ill. He couldn't bear to see her suffer, so that more and more he resorted to pulling at the magic thread. But as soon as one trouble was solved, another seemed to grow in its place. Perhaps life would be easier if he retired, Peter thought. Then he would no longer have to clamber about on drafty, half-completed buildings and he could look after Liese when she was ill. The trouble was that he didn't have enough money to live on. He picked up his magic ball and looked at it. To his dismay he saw that the thread was no longer silver but gray and lusterless. He decided to go for a walk in the forest to think things over. It was a long time since he had been in that part of the forest. The small saplings had all grown into tall fir trees, and it was hard to find the path he had once known. Eventually he came to a bench in a clearing. He sat down to rest and fell into a light doze. He was woken by someone calling his name, "Peter! Peter!"

He looked up and saw the old woman he had met so many years ago when she had given him the magic silver ball with its golden thread. She looked just as she had on that day, not a day older. She smiled at him."So, Peter, have you had a good life?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Peter said. "Your magic ball is a wonderful thing. I have never had to suffer or wait for anything in my life. And yet it has all passed so quickly. I feel that I have had no time to take in what has happened to me, neither the good things nor the bad. Now there is so little time left. I dare not pull the thread again for it will only bring me to my death. I do not think your gift has brought me luck."

"How ungrateful you are!" the old woman said. "In what way would you have wished things to be different?"

"Perhaps if you had given me a different ball, one where I could have pushed the thread back in as well as pulling it out. Then I could have relived the things that went badly."

The old woman laughed. "You ask a great deal! Do you think that God allows us to live our lives twice over? But I can grant you one final wish, you foolish, demanding man."

"What is that?" Peter asked.

"Choose," the old woman said. Peter thought hard.

At length he said, "I should like to live my life again as if for the first time, but without your magic ball. Then I will experience the bad things as well as the good without cutting them short, and at least my life will not pass as swiftly and meaninglessly as a daydream."

"So be it," said the old woman. "Give me back my ball."

She stretched out her hand and Peter placed the silver ball in it. Then he sat back and closed his eyes with exhaustion.

When he awoke he was in his own bed. His youthful mother was bending over him, shaking him gently.

"Wake up, Peter. You will be late for school. You were sleeping like the dead!"

He looked up at her in surprise and relief.

"I've had a terrible dream, Mother. I dreamed that I was old and sick and that my life had passed like the blinking of an eye with nothing to show for it. Not even any memories."

His mother laughed and shook her head.

"That will never happen," she said. "Memories are the one thing we all have, even when we are old. Now hurry and get dressed. Liese is waiting for you and you will be late for school.

As Peter walked to school with Liese, he noticed what a bright summer morning it was, the kind of morning when it felt good to be alive. Soon he would see his friends and classmates, and even the prospect of lessons didn't seem so bad. In fact he could hardly wait.

[quarterlifekitty]

Can we pretty please have König with the secret baby trope?

/)/)

( . .)

( づ♡

I offer a little bunny as a bribe [I really hope it works and doesn’t end up misshapen lol]

Bunny looks good to me…. I accept

So in this, I imagine that you were something of a friends with benefits to him. While it wasn’t a sugaring situation, he did insist upon treating you to a nice dinner whenever you met up. When he’d come home on leave, he’d reach out, you’d meet up and fuck, and eventually he’d ship back out and the cycle repeated.

Truthfully, he’d been planning on trying to make things less casual for a long time. He’s not the kind of person who can fuck someone repeatedly and not fall in love, as much as he tried to be when this began. He decided that on his next leave, he would tell you.

He didn’t expect his next leave to be as far away as it turned out to be. While he is within his rights as a mercenary to decline extending his time on the job, he often doesn’t. He’s a workaholic and one of the small number of people at KorTac with no family to speak of, so he often takes on the burden staying on longer when needed. The time gets away from him. He’s gone longer than a year.

He comes back, anxious about where he stands with you. What you had hadn’t exactly been exclusive, and it’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t have been snapped up in that time away. To him, there can be no shortage of other men in your life that are crazy about you.

He contacts you. You tell him that you’re not really in a position to meet up with him, and you don’t really know if you ever will be again, honestly. His hands are sweating and his fingers fuck up on the keyboard all the time, so he just decides to call. Ask you what he’s done, if there’s someone else, if you know that he’s madly in love—

Not thirty seconds into the phone call, just barely past the niceties and pleasant greetings, when all of those questions are on the tip of his tongue— he hears crying. A baby crying. You tell him hurriedly that you’ll have to call him back. He decides he just can’t wait that long. He goes to your place.

You answer the door with a baby in a sling around you, tucked up to your chest, markedly more calm than it had been over the phone. Red hair. Your expression is a little tightened, like you hadn’t really wanted to see him at the door.

“As you can see, I’m not really able to attend a dick appointment right now.”

Fuck, is that what it was? You thought he just wanted sex?

A Quick look at your apartment tells him there isn’t anyone else. No men’s shoes by the door. Photos on the wall are just you and your friends— no partner in sight. It’s also kind of a mess. If there was a man in your life, he deserved to have his head beat in for leaving you to deal with all of this alone all day.

Then comes the quick mental math.

“That’s not what I want. Let me come in, schatz. Let me talk to you.”

It breaks his heart to see how reticent you are to let him in. It’s part and parcel with how tired you look.

“Look, if you’re wondering— yes, he’s yours, biologically.” Well, that clarification at the end stings a little. “But it was my choice to keep him, so I don’t expect anything from you. If this feels like an obligation to you, I’d prefer if we just cut things off here.”

The words that follow spill from his mouth uncontrollably.

“I don’t just want him— I want you. I want the both of you. I want it to be us,” he nearly babbles, hoping what he says is even halfway coherent.

“You’re all I think of when I’m away. I cannot lie and say I’d imagined the… the order of events would be this way. But I’d thought of it— with you. Please let me in, and… and let me meet him properly, ja?”

There are tears in his eyes when his son holding his finger for the first time, not ten minutes later.

[cei1ne]

—How the MHA men would react to you wiping their kiss as a a prank!

დ”*•.Summary:

Reaction of male My hero academia character of you wiped their kiss after they had kissed your lips

◌⑅⃝♡⋆Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki ; Denki Kaminari ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Sero Hanta ; Shoto Todoroki

✩•̩̩͙*˚Tags: Fluff, funny, prank, loving, married life, aged up, kissing

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰Wordcount: 1.3k

❧◦°˚A/N:

I hope I included the very important sexy men ‌​and maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m not very famous right now but I think I will but also please don’t forget this is one of my first ‘story’? And English isn’t my first language! Ily guys!

Pt. 2. Masterlist

ᰔ ᩚ| Bakugou Katsuki (After he comes home from work)

The front door slammed, signaling Katsuki’s return from work. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he dropped his bag and ran a hand through his messy hair. His usual scowl was deeper than usual—clearly, it had been one of those days. You greeted him with a soft smile, moving closer to help him shed his jacket.

“Tch, don’t bother,” he grumbled, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Well, hello to you too,” you teased, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He froze for a second, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he leaned into the kiss. It was sweet, rare, and enough to make his bad day feel distant. But the moment he pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

“Ugh,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear. “Tastes like explosions.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and his brow twitched. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know,” you said with a casual shrug. “It’s like… smoky. A little bitter, maybe.”

His mouth opened as if to yell, but then he stopped, his expression shifting from irritation to disbelief. “Are you messing with me right now?”

You tried to keep a straight face, but the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away. “Maybe.”

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so sensitive!” you teased, poking his chest. “You’re not mad, are you?”

He scoffed, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Mad? Tch. Please. I don’t care.”

But as he turned away, you caught him muttering, “Next time, I’m making you taste like explosions.”

ঞ| Denki Kaminari (After he gives you a gift)

Denki burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear as he held a small, brightly wrapped box. “Guess what I got you!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Hmm, is it a puppy?”

“Better,” he said with a wink, handing you the box. Inside was a handmade bracelet, colorful and slightly mismatched, with beads spelling out your name and his. It was endearing and so Denki.

“Aw, Denki! It’s adorable,” you said, slipping it onto your wrist. “Thank you!”

Unable to contain your excitement, you leaned in and kissed him. He melted instantly, his cheeks glowing pink. But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated motion.

His face fell immediately. “Wait… what was that?”

“Just… something tasted off,” you said, feigning confusion.

His eyes widened in horror. “Off?! Like, bad? Oh no, am I a bad kisser?!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as he started pacing, mumbling to himself. “Maybe I need to brush my teeth more. Or chew mint gum before—”

“Kaminari, relax,” you interrupted, unable to hold it in anymore. “I’m joking.”

He froze mid-step, blinking at you. “Joking? You mean… I don’t taste bad?”

“Of course not! You’re fine, idiot.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Before you could react, he tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you wipe these off too!”

ஐ| Kirishima Eijirou (While working out together)

The gym echoed with the sound of weights clinking and Kirishima’s encouraging voice. “C’mon, just one more set! You’ve got this!”

You groaned, your arms trembling as you completed the last rep. “Done!” you announced, dropping the weights and collapsing onto the bench.

Kirishima laughed, offering you a water bottle. “Good work, babe. You’re getting stronger every day.”

“Thanks, coach,” you teased, taking a long sip. He leaned in, his red hair falling slightly over his eyes, and kissed you. It was quick and sweet, but as soon as he pulled away, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

His smile faltered. “Uh… what’s wrong?”

“Just… sweaty,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

His face turned red, and not from exertion. “Wait, I’m sweaty?!”

“Yeah, kinda gross,” you added, biting back a laugh.

For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt, his hand subconsciously touching his lips. “I—I didn’t think I was that bad…”

Unable to take it any longer, you burst out laughing. “Eijirou, I’m kidding! You’re fine.”

Realization dawned on his face, and he broke into a wide grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

Before you could escape, he grabbed you, pulling you into a bear hug. “If I’m sweaty, you’re gonna be too!”

“No, Eijirou, stop!” you laughed, squirming in his arms. But he just held you tighter, his laughter joining yours.

❦| Sero Hanta (While watching a movie)

You and Sero were sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by snacks and watching a cheesy rom-com he insisted on. His arm was casually draped over your shoulders, and every so often, he’d glance at you to check if you were enjoying the film. As the leads leaned in for a dramatic kiss on screen, Sero smirked and turned to you.

“Bet you didn’t know I can do it better,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and unhurried, his grin lingering even as he pulled back.

You wiped your mouth dramatically with the back of your hand, scrunching your face. “Ugh.”

Sero blinked, confused. “Uh… what was that?”

“Just… felt sticky. Like tape residue or something,” you said, fighting the urge to laugh.

His jaw dropped, and he let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no you didn’t. Are you saying I kiss like tape?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He stared at you for a moment before his lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Okay, you’re asking for it now.”

Before you could react, he launched himself at you, pinning you down on the couch and peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you can wipe all these off, huh?”

“Stop! Hanta!” you laughed, squirming beneath him, but he only laughed harder.

Shoto Todoroki (During a quiet moment in the garden)

The garden was peaceful, the air filled with the soft scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun. Shoto sat beside you on the bench, his mismatched eyes fixed on the petals of a nearby bloom. You loved moments like this, where his normally stoic demeanor softened into something tender.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. He returned it, his lips cool against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed still.

But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated frown.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Mm, kind of tastes… icy,” you said, smirking. “Like kissing a popsicle.”

He blinked, his face expressionless, but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips. “You knew I was cold, and you kissed me anyway. Complaining now seems counterproductive.”

You burst out laughing, and his smirk became more evident. “You’re such a troll,” you teased.

“I’m simply stating the facts,” he replied, but there was a rare glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Next time, I’ll use the hot side.”

[palmerzy]

Hi, I loved your recent Spencer Reid blurb, I was wondering if you would do another nsfw blurb with sub Spence and maybe some Somno?? Like he can’t help himself when he’s so tired and he barely realises what he’s doing? 🫶🫶

hey anon, thanks for requesting! i wasn’t totally sure if you meant reader to spencer or spencer to reader, so i went for the latter - i hope that’s okay! if that’s not what you meant, feel free to send another ask and i’ll appease that <3 for now, please enjoy!

NSFW! - explicit sexual content, incl. somnophilia. read at your own discretion.

spencer would be coming home late from a case, and he’s just desperate to spend some time with you - to spend some time inside of you.

his face falls when he pushes open the door to his bedroom, seeing your sleeping form already knocked out on his bed, and he internally chides himself for staying behind at the bau longer than he should have. now, his girlfriend is passed out, and he’s sporting a hard on - the taunting punishment for daydreaming on his journey home.

as a responsible man, somewhat, he grumbles to himself but gets ready for bed nonetheless, pouting at the thought of having to go to sleep without being able to share the night with you, knowing it’s his own fault.

he’d climb into bed beside you, narrowing his eyes at the sight of you in just your panties and one of his button ups, like you’re literally messing with him in your sleep. a defeated sigh passes his lips, and he snuggles up against you, his chest against your back as he wills sleep to take him before his thoughts wander too far.

of course, sleep doesn’t take him. not when he can feel you shifting in your unconscious state, your ass pressing just perfectly against his hard-on, something you’re blissfully unaware of. he tells himself he can’t wake you up, not for an issue as small as his petulant neediness.

and yet, spencer recalls a conversation in which you’d told him you wouldn’t mind being woken up with his head between your thighs, or with the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. well - you’d said it a lot more innocent than that, but he knew the implications. he knows what you’d meant, and he finds himself questioning his morals with how he’s considering it.

in his mind, he draws it up to him simply being tired and needy. he’s been at work all day, barely able to talk to you, and then he comes home to find you asleep. he can’t help feeling a little down, a little pouty, and a little bit guilty as he reaches down between your bodies to pull your panties aside.

he waits for a reaction, and even when he gets none, he perseveres. a finger dips beneath your folds, testing the waters, and his slightly drowsy mind is elated to find you just about wet enough for him. you’ve been wetter, sure, but he knows you’re sleeping, your body isn’t anticipating him. that’s what you wanted, right? to be woken up by him? he’s just providing his partner with what they’d wanted. he’s a good boyfriend.

his mind is a blur when he tugs his pyjama pants down and pushes forward, eyes rolling back when he sinks into your warmth, your body involuntarily clenching around him.

with furrowed brows, he studies your body, waiting for you to stir awake. he’s silently begging for you to wake up so he can continue, so he can have his fill of you and then the both of you can get some sleep.

when you don’t, he stills, keeping himself sheathed within you. he’s at war with his mind, debating on whether or not to keep going. he knows he’s not in his right mind, not with how tired he is after a long days work. he should pull out and just go take care of himself.

but he doesn’t, and it’s not long before he’s slowly thrusting up into you, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle his whines. he’s not a massive fan of taking you from behind, he likes to see your face, but he has no choice here - spooning you as he gently grasps your hip, his cock half submerged into your unknowing body.

he continues like that for at least a minute, muffled gasps and whimpers passing his pursed lips as he shallowly dips into you over and over, refusing to come from his invasion. he wants you to wake up, he really does, yet he can’t deny how good it feels to be able to satisfy himself with your body like this, and he finds his guilt rising more with each second.

when you finally awaken, his face lights up, his cock stilling and feeling your pussy clench around him, as if pulling him further in. “spence?” you’d mumble ever so quietly, and he swears he could’ve come just from the sound. he’d nod slowly, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder, whispering sweet apologies. “‘m so sorry,” “couldn’t help myself, i tried- mmph, i really tried,” “is this okay? please tell me it’s okay,” he’d whimper over and over, until you were nodding, telling him you were going back to sleep and allowing you to find his own pleasure, finally pressing his cock as deep as he’d originally wanted to, guilt washed away.

requests open! 🌶️ or come talk to me about spence <3

[sowearecleariamhere]

Penelope could easily be painted as the damsel yearning for her lover, the woman without much agency waiting for her husband to come home (which of course we all know she isn't, she is a literal and metaphorical queen), and in a lesser story*) she might have been cast into that stereotype. I think that is why I love her almost yelling "You're mine" at Odysseus in WYFILWMA.

It is so possessive and decisive, ruling out any "buts". It perfectly underlines her steadfastness, her loyalty, her agency. She claims Odysseus as hers without question once she knows it is really him, that he is finally back home. She is seemingly offended that Odysseus even suggests that she might not accept him after how much he has changed. (She will make her own mind up about that, thank you very much, and said mind has been made up for 20 years btw)

It is not only that Odysseus has come home and now she chooses him. No, she has been choosing him over and over and over for the past 20 years with every action she took. It is not him coming back that now puts her in the position to choose him - it only reveals that choice, that there never was another choice other than Odysseus. Which leads me to my honorable mention:

Ody: "[...] You’ve been waiting for love."

Pen: "I've been waiting for you."

Penelope definitely had a surplus of suitors (108) and even if their motives might have been questionable, she could have easily found a new husband if that was what she wanted, maybe even one that genuinely loved her. But Penelope's love is Odysseus. Love for her is synonymous with him. No one else is even worth considering, she would rather be alone or even die before she gives any other man the time of day.

tldr; I love love LOVE the wording in WYFILWMA, how it shows how Penelope is just not taking this shit from her husband. She knows what she wants and that is Odysseus, even if it is not the original model but the slightly banged up version, the heavily traumatized, now with grey hairs probably, war criminal, ruthless god torturer version of her husband.

Because he is still her husband, goddamn it.

This might very well not make much sense bc I am insane over them currently

*) "lesser story" is not referring to the odyssey or saying epic is better than the odyssey, I mean to compare them both to any completely different work (or franchise if you will) that does not give characters agency where they should have it

[strawberrykidneystone]

the blast that changed everything

sevika x female! reader

summary: your wife came home after being gone at work for more than a day with a limb missing and it was definitely an adjustment

a/n: i did do research for this fic about limb loss but if there's anything that i can do to improve this please don't hesitate to let me know!!

tags: loss of limb, angst to fluff, emetophobia tw, domestic moments, weed, making out, reassurance,

ao3 version

thank you for requesting anon!!!

when sevika had first told you that she was switching to work under silco, you were more than confused. but once she explained her reasoning and promised that she would be careful, you slowly got on board with her work. you knew that she wanted action instead of whatever "passive bullshit" that vander was negotiating with piltover, but you knew you couldn't talk her out of it even if you tried.

sevika got so many nasty looks whenever she was out in public for "betraying" vander, but a betrayal is a stab in the back, not the front, which is what sevika did when she left vander.

but working for silco meant going along with his scientist's experiments, which you were less than keen to learn about. sevika didn't tell you much because honestly, mainly because she didn't know much about it herself. she did tell you to never touch the substance, a shimmering purple substance would bring nothing but trouble.

so here you are, waiting on the couch for your wife to come home from work. you glanced up at the ticking clock in the living room, it was well past midnight, where was she? sure, she had late nights before, but she would always send someone to at least tell you that she was going to be late. you tried not to worry, but you felt a pit in your stomach that something just wasn't right.

your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a frantic knock on the door. bolting up and throwing the door open, you're met with a panting ran who takes a deep breath and rambles out something slightly incoherent, but you pick up the words "sevika" and "hurt". quickly throwing on a jacket and slipping on the nearest shoes you urge ran to bring you to her, the two of you tearing down the street until you go down a huge spiral staircase into a lab that had an open window view of the ocean.

frantically looking around, you raced to sevika's side as you saw her passed out on a crude surgical table and cupped her hand in yours, reassuring her that you were here even if she couldn't hear you.

then you saw her other arm.

it was charred as it she had stuck it directly into a fire, but it was glowing... blue? she had a scar running up from her shoulder to her cheek with blue cracks as if her skin were a glass that shattered. you had never seen an injury like this before. singed was working on her shoulder with a bone blade and you covered your mouth with her hand, there was no way that this arm was salvageable. you squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the crunching of her bone, she was losing her dominant hand and you had no idea how she would adjust to losing her primary arm. you felt nauseous and dizzy, quickly kneeling down by the nearest trash can and barfing your brains out. you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and took a shaky breath. you had to be strong for her, especially after she woke up. eventually, you fell asleep at her side and didn't wake until you felt movement near your head the next morning.

you quickly perked up and almost started crying when shew finally showed signs of life. sevika groggily looked around, clearly very disoriented until her eyes locked in on you. "baby? what happened?" she asked raspily, trying to shake the brain fog out of her head.

you gulped and took a deep breath, clutching her hand in yours, "after you pushed silco out of the way, the blast had some sort of blue technology in it, it wasn't a regular explosion. singed tried everything he could, but he had to amputate your arm up to you shoulder and there is some blue scarring going up your face that he couldn't explain to me how they got there."

sevika slowly nodded along and looked to her side at the stump that was now her arm. she seemed oddly calm, but sevika was never really one to let her emotions overtake her. by this point, you had tears streaming down your face and profusely apologizing as if you had been the one to set off the blast. she shook her head and placed her hand on your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your cheekbone, "baby it's okay, i'm okay. it's just an arm, silco's probably commissioning a new one for me as we speak. it's gonna be alright."

you sniffed and covered her hand with yours, leaning into her palm, "i'm supposed to be the one comforting you dummy, you're the one who got hurt."

she snorted and shook her head, "as long as i have you, i know everything's going to be alright."

you wiped your tears away and kissed the inside of her hand, "okay okay you sap, I'll stop worrying. but you're not going back to work until you feel ready, capeesh?"

"caposh, now get up here and kiss me," she said with a grin. you basically lunged up to her and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, throwing your arms around her neck as you smothered her in entire face in kisses. sevika was a little thrown off when she went to wrap her arms around you, but only one actually showed up.

this was definitely going to be an adjustment.

over the next few weeks, you had taken sevika to a decent physical therapist that you had found in zaun and worked with her to improve the handwriting in her right arm. her center of gravity was entirely off and she was unconsciously leaning to the right side when she walked, which she also had to work on in physical therapy as well as outside of it. she opens up to you after a while about how she swears that she can feel every finger in her left hand still, sometimes still reaching for things with a limb that is no longer there and mourning what she lost. she also asked you to cut off the left sleeve of her shirt to make it easier to dress herself, which you happily obliged as you had an excuse to practice your sewing.

when she started getting phantom limb pain, you started massaging the area and sitting down with her with a stand-up mirror so her mind gets tricked into thinking it still has all of the pathways in her body.

and smoking weed.

she joked that the doctor had basically given her a prescription to smoke weed, but that is kind of what happened. you would smoke with her and she loves it when you shotgun into her mouth, her brain releasing tension with the pain in her missing limb soon forgotten. it became a nightly ritual for the two of you to sit out on your bedroom balcony and smoke a shared blunt that usually ended up with you perched on her lap in a sloppy make-out session. life was slowly starting to feel normal again with her adjusted lifestyle. it took her a while to ask for help when she needed it, even from you, her close loved one. sevika was nothing if not resilient, but her patience usually wore thin when tasks started taking her twice the time it did before the accident. you were always there to lend a hand and reassure her that asking for help was nothing shameful, that you wanted to help her. it took her a while to accept, but when she did, her life drastically improved for the better.

during all of this, you were hounding silco's ass about her new prosthetic arm that he calmly said was still getting worked on. he would never admit it aloud, but he was a little scared of you.

when she came home one day with a new prosthetic arm attached to her shoulder, you looked at her in awe as your wife had the cheesiest grin on her face. she immediately wrapped you up in her arms and chuckled as she felt you shiver with her cold metal arm against your slightly exposed back. even though she had the new arm, she didn’t like wearing it around you since it was technically a weapon.

being able to write with her left hand again was. a huge relief for her, sure she made do with writing with her non-dominant hand, but this was different, it was almost like having her own arm back again.

plus, now she could write with both hands.

you were less than thrilled when she added a shimmer component to her arm, lecturing her on how it was hypocritical of her after she was so adamant about not using it when singed was first experimenting with it. however, silco kept sending her on harder missions and shimmer helped her do her best work, so you slowly came around, especially after seeing how feral the substance made her (especially in bed, shimmer strap who?)

eventually, things settled down and she was back at work with new additions to her arm every so often that she loved to show off to you. you admired them and asked about the new features, simply happy that she had new tools to keep her safe while she was out doing silco's dirty work.

it was all worth it for zaun to slowly take steps forward to becoming independent and governing themselves instead of the ever looming presence of piltover stopping them.

a/n: silco having workers comp??? maybe he's not so bad /j

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

[yoitsjay]

Hey I absolutely LOVE you…….(r) writing style. Do/Can you make a fic about what makes BatBoys feel like “home” with reader? Like relationship wise. If this doesn’t make sense I’m sorry, this m first time making a request 😭✌️. Ty's!

No it makes sense! Thank you for the request!

Like Home

Summary: How you're the batboys home.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Bruce Wayne:

To Bruce Wayne, home isn't a place. Its you.

Typically Bruce is wary of genuine, committed relationships, his kids definitely warned him about people dating him just for his money, but when he met you, right off the bat you were so different.

From the moment you rushed to pay for dinner before Bruce could was the moment he knew he wanted you.

Home to Bruce is waking up in the morning with you still fast asleep in his arms, lips parted slightly as soft snores escape your lips. Home to him is holding you from behind as you cook breakfast for everyone instead of Alfred.

Home to him is holding you close as he- (we won't finish that sentence)

you, and all the things you do, big or small, mean the world to him, and he wants things to stay like this forever…

Dick Grayson:

Home to Dick Grayson is freedom, or it was until he met you.

He had bumped into you in a coffee shop and you were in a pretty heated argument with one of the other patrons there, defending an elderly lady who was only just trying to buy coffee.

When the guy had raised his hand to you, Dick was about to step in and stop the fight, only to see you deflect the blow, twist the mans wrist and pin him to the wall within seconds.

After that he had to ask for your number.

Then on patrol the following evening, a new hero arrived in gotham, someone oddly familiar to him.

You and Dick started working together on patrol, and in person too, since you had been one of the new interns at Wayne Enterprises, so it was a good excuse to see you more often. Though you both had no idea about each others identities until one really rough battle… and to make a long story short you ended up in his apartment, kissing him when you had accidentally knocked his mask off.

“Dick!?”

You ended up revealing yourself that night, too, and after that, you and Dick started dating. Being with you, fighting alongside you, and cherishing freedom quickly changed to cherishing you, wanting you to be his forever. You became something he wanted to come back to alive every night… and that was good enough for him.

Jason Todd:

You had always been his home. From the moment you met Jason as kids, he always loved you, cared for you, and you did the same.

When he died you were broken, you mourned for who knows how long, and everyone knew that your spark had died along with Jason.

When he came back, you were stunned.

You had just gotten home from work, and noticed your living room window wide open, and in the room itself stood a large man.

You wasted no time in attacking. Jason and you trained together as kids, and after his death you continued training under Bruce and Dick, so you liked to think you were pretty good.

But for some reason your intruder wasnt hitting you back.

He only fell to his knees and he hugged your waist tightly.

“I’m home- im home- im so sorry-” He whispered, and you froze.

“Jason…?”

“Im home baby, im not leavin’ you again”

you both cried, for a while probably, but despite the tears, the trauma he revealed to you, you did nothing but comfort and love him, and hold him close as he cried into your chest about how much he missed you.

he found his home in you a long time ago… “If only i hadnt been so reckless, i would have never lost you-”

“you didnt lose me Jason, ive been here, waiting for the time i could see you again… it came alot sooner… Screw you Thalia Al Ghul, and thank you for bringing my Jason back to me”

Tim Drake:

You had Tim had been dating for a few years at this point, it had been more on the arranged side, Your father and Bruce were really close friends, and they had agreed after finding out that you and Tim were the same age and both single, that you two had to at least meet, and talk and get to know each other.

You agreed, Tim was more reluctant.

Turns out you and him were already friends. You had been close in High School, though you both never revealed much about your family lives, so being rich in Gotham kind of flew under the radar.

You and Tim both laughed about it over lunch, though in that time you really started to get to know each other. Had you always been so beautiful?

After a little bit, he asked you out officially. You said yes, and your relationship evolved into something he couldn't ever give up. Similar to Bruce, he found comfort in the littlest things. The way you held him ran your fingers through his hair and made his shoulders sag in relaxation. That was home to him.

Damian Wayne:

Damian Wayne hated you.

he despised you, and you had no idea why.

You were Alfred’s niece, and after your parents had died you had come to gotham to stay with Alfred since he had become your legal guardian.

You tried to mind your own business, you helped alfred clean, became a maid of sorts to earn your keep, even though Bruce, more than once assured you that you didnt need to worry. You still did.

Damian took advantage of that and took advantage of the whole maid aspect, you did a lot for that guy and yet, he despised you.

Then he found out that you had been asked out on a date by someone from Gotham Academy, a school you both went too.

“You’re not allowed.”

Damian stated as he walked up to you in the manor, and you looked over from where you were cleaning. “Huh?” You questioned, unsure as to what he was talking about.

“Your not allowed to go on a date with that child. Your my girlfriend now.” Damian stated, and your eyes went wide.

You kinda… just couldnt say no.

after that Damian started treating you a lot nicer, he did a lot of small things for you, payed attention to the things you looked at or liked, and more often then not, the same item would be on your bed.

he found comfort in the things you did for him, and you had no idea, but he treated you like dog shit because of his fat crush on you.

what… The… fuck.

Tag list:

All: @only-my-unexistent-fiances @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

Bruce Wayne: @ilaiise

Dick Grayson: @ilaiise

Jason Todd: @ilaiise

Tim Drake: @ilaiise

Damian Wayne: @ilaiise

[illbegottenfaith]

in sweetness (inspired by robin by t. swift)

visiting theo's childhood home grants you a deeper understanding of his inner workings (theo nott x reader)

a/n - I haven't genuinely loved a piece of writing like I do this one in a loooong time, I'm aware of how it strays away from the conventional flow/storyline of fanfic but I feel like that's what makes this so special! this is kind of the backstory of Theo I have in my head for pretty much any fic I write, regardless of the tropes/au's involved.

tropes/warnings - love?? hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, friends to lovers

word count - 2.7k

In their third year, Theodore Nott broke the nose of his then-teammate Mattheo Riddle. The fight had broken out on the Quidditch pitch after a practice; over what, no one could remember, least of all the boys themselves. Mattheo had said something undoubtedly incendiary in that arrogant, goading voice of his, and Theo had lunged at him, knocking the pair down. The brawl had come to a surprisingly quick end once he had decked the stockier boy in the face.

Years on, most people put it down to a culmination of red-hot emotions and pubescent testosterone. But it was more than that. Even then, you found the incident more telling than most others. Friend or foe, Theodore Nott never hesitated to exact justice by his own means, as he saw fit.

Perhaps it was his only means of control in a world that had treated him unforgivingly all his life.

You put down the photo of a bloody-nosed Mattheo sitting next to a busted-lipped Theo in the Hospital Wing, a photo taken to commemorate, as Blaise Zabini cheerfully put it, 'Baby's first fistfight.' You are standing in Theo's bedroom in his childhood home while waiting for him to return. You wanted to surprise him, but as his aunt had told you, he had popped out to drop by some old friends in the area. Still, she said that he would be returning soon and that you were welcome to wait in his room.

Looking around at every little photo, artifact, and piece of evidence of the years gone by feels like you are watching him grow up in front of your very eyes. And just like his life, something about the room feels disjointed and unharmonious. Other than a few obligatory photos or trinkets, most of the room appears sparsely decorated. The air feels heavy, as if it carries an unbearable silence even when he is home for the holidays.

There are posters of some vaguely familiar professional Quidditch players decorating one wall. Looking at the years printed in the corner, you glean that they must have been from before you met Theo. Although a layer of dust now sits on the untouched but otherwise pristine posters, it's clear that they were once highly beloved by their owner.

You see something similar in the rest of the room - different phases of his life cluttered different corners of his room. It was as though the room itself never changed; rather, he learned to grow in whatever space was left. You tilted your head up. There, hanging from the ceiling above his bed, appears to be a slightly misshapen, dusty baby mobile made of flimsy, plasticky dragonflies. It looks handmade. It sticks out like a sore thumb in what is otherwise a tidy room.

You wander over to the window on the other side of the room. You pick up another picture frame, this one containing a photograph of a toddler Theodore at the very windowsill you were standing in front of, taken from the garden just outside his window.

Back then, with a face that small, his dark curls seemed to overwhelm his tiny stature. He was laughing with a twinkle in his eye which he seemed to have lost over the years, unabashed with a face overflowing with love for whoever was behind the camera. You peer through the crooked window and imagine him scrambling up, not yet three feet tall, towards the photo-taker who humoured his nonsensical babbling with the forgiving kind of maternal patience. What had she looked like? Did she have his hair? His nose? His dry wit? His temper? His unexpected, if endearing, touchy side? It was a fragmented sort of picture in your head, but it was better than nothing.

You look back at the photo and your heart twinges with regret. Theo didn't talk about it much, but you knew he had lost her when he was very young - far too young. This had to be one of the last few moments when he was blissfully unaware of the horrors that waited for him in the real world. And even after that, how could he have anticipated just how much worse things could get? You bite your lip. No, you decide, he had no idea.

After the Quidditch pitch incident, unlike his newest best mate, Theo's penchant for violence was short-lived. Yet his ruthless efficiency remained almost cutthroat - whatever Theo wanted, he got, everyone else be damned. In fact, he hadn't really understood what it felt like to care for someone else until he met you.

With your round, trusting eyes and irrationally lovable affectations, you had somehow wormed your way into his otherwise cold, distant heart, and there you stayed. Your friends hadn't held back on the teasing, especially in the early days, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when an electric kind of thrill would run through you as he'd duck his head oh so slightly to better hear whatever spiel you had chosen to grace him with between lessons that day over the din of the moving staircases and their unfortunate victims. The electric thrill of having a friend, of course.

But that didn't stop you from noticing how his past seemed to hold him back, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. With his father's less-than-exemplary background, you saw him struggle to not follow him down that same path. After all, how did one break free of the only world they've ever known? Sometimes you could feel his frustration, as if he felt stuck or stagnant. While everyone else busied themselves with orchestrating life plans as graduation grew nearer, Theo seemed woefully encumbered by the one thing he could never rid himself of, shackled by the chains of his lineage.

You had picked up on this the time he had come down with a bout of the flu. "Maybe I should take your temperature again," you had said, anxiously looking at his wan face as his skin burned the back of your hand.

"I'm fine, really," he had repeated, as he dragged your hand down to his chest, eyes lidded. "I'll sleep it off."

You had pressed your lips into a thin line, highly conflicted over how much you wanted to argue with a clearly sick patient. Your other hand had drifted to his scalp as you had distractedly started raking your fingers through his hair. Theo's lips had parted as he sighed in relief, melting further into his pillow.

"Just...just stay. For a while." His eyes had been fully closed by then. "I get the worst dreams when I'm sick."

You had run your thumb along your clasped hands. "What do you dream about?"

Theo had paused. "Terrible things," he had said after a moment, in a pleasant, light voice, as if you were merely discussing the weather. "Terrible things that I can't change."

He had no idea.

The least you could do was let him feel free when he was with you. You knew just what to do to tug a smile onto his face, no matter how reluctant, on the greyest of days. It helped that it didn't take much for you to amuse him. It wasn't always easy, keeping spirits high enough for the both of you, but you managed. Anything to make his life a little brighter, a little sweeter.

And so the time he spent with you only served to further mellow him out, soften his sharp, unrelenting edges. His bloodlust moulded itself into something kinder, something that didn't itch for retribution for every wrong-doing or misdeed. A compassion that presented itself in the oddest of ways - like the time you had found Theo entertaining one of the toddlers from the annual gift donation drive in the Slytherin common room over the holidays. Your eyes had nearly fallen out of your head when you had seen him sitting cross-legged on the floor, highly engrossed with a bunch of plastic dinosaurs.

You had shot Mattheo a mystified look as you walked by, and he had shrugged from his place on one of the armchairs. But you had noticed how the crossword he had allegedly been pouring over had gone slack in his hand. Clearly, he had been just as intrigued as you were.

"I thought you never liked playing with toys," you had started, fixing a lock of hair falling into Theo's eyes as he looked up at you. He had looked so earnest as he put the toys down that you had had to fight the urge to laugh - not at him, but at how disconcertingly happy he looked. Why, Theo would have mocked anyone who looked half as delighted any other day of the week.

You had let your thumb run along his cheekbone. Perhaps it was an unintentional reclamation of the childhood he had been robbed of.

"I didn't. But maybe I just needed more time." He had glanced back at the child crudely now scribbling in his sketchbook and winced. "Erm, fourteen years more time."

You had nodded, trying to be more discreet about your staring at the smear of dirt you had just noticed on the side of his face. He had no idea. Over Theo's shoulder, you had frowned questioningly at Mattheo. Sand pit, he had mouthed back at you.

"You always were slow on the uptake," you had murmured. Something must have shown in yours or Mattheo's expression because he had started glancing between the two of you, gingerly touching his face.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

"No," the both of you chorused.

"I don't see anything on your face. Mattheo, do you see anything on Theo's face?"

"Not a speck," Mattheo had agreed, nonchalantly returning to his crossword. You had tapped Theo's face, making him flinch.

"You need to stop being so obsessed with your looks. Vanity doesn't become you."

And before he could catch on - as he was dangerously close to, if that suspicious frown of his was any indication - you excused yourself to put your coat away. Neither of you had wanted to snap Theo out of whatever weird trance he was in. A moment like that deserved to be preserved.

Standing in Theo's room, you suddenly felt claustrophobic, overwhelmed by memories you hadn't given a second thought in years. There was so much tragedy written in every crack in the wall. How did Theo bear it? Did he simply not see it?

You walked out of the room and explained to Theo's aunt that you were just heading out for a bit of fresh air. If she noticed how upset you looked, she didn't comment on it. Once you left, you started walking very quickly very blindly, anything to put as much distance between yourself and that house of horrors.

Eventually, you walked until there was nowhere else to walk, ending up at an old, slightly grimy playground. You sat on one of the swings, replaying those scenes you couldn't seem to move on from. The pallor on Theo's face as he shivered from that fever. The blood-soaked rag he had held to his mouth to stem the flow of blood. The grit that had decorated the side of his beautiful face. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the leaves crunching under the footsteps that approached you.

"Oh, my days," a familiar voice crowed from behind you, "is that Y/N L/N I see before me?"

You froze. He must have spotted you on his way back. You couldn't bring yourself to turn around to face him just yet.

"You're in my spot, you know," Theo continued smoothly. "That's the best spot on the swing set right there."

Reluctantly, you glanced behind to see Theo standing behind you, wearing a thick denim jacket, his teasing expression slightly shadowed by his stupid hair that was always falling into his stupid face, and all you can think is, he has no idea.

As soon as you turned, his face softened into something more concerned.

"Are you...crying?"

You brushed a hand against your cheek and realised he was right. You sniffed, turning away from him. Theo moved to kneel in front of you almost immediately, gently clasping your elbows when you refused to meet his gaze.

"Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Who hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No one hurt me."

Theo stared at you unrelentingly. There it was, the bloodlust. "What happened, cara mia?"

"Nothing," you said unconvincingly. "I was waiting for you at your house but I wanted a bit of fresh air."

"Was it my aunt? Did she say something? Honestly, the things she says about my hair -"

You laughed through your tears abruptly, and you could see Theo relax fractionally at your smile. You bit your lip hard enough to almost draw blood. Anything to stop the crying.

"No," you were saying, "your aunt was very sweet. She let me wait in your room."

"Okay."

"And there were -"

"- magazines?"

You frowned at Theo, who looked unreasonably panicked. "You have magazines in your room?"

He hesitated for a moment, before delicately clearing his throat. "No, of course not. So what did you see?"

"Pictures. From years ago."

"Oh, yeah. What about them?"

You stared back at him, fidgeting restlessly. How could you explain why you were suddenly so upset when you didn't fully understand it yourself? The pictures in his room were nothing revelatory - in fact, wasn't that why it was so heartbreaking? You knew what his life had been like, and you knew how it had shaped him. But maybe something about seeing unflinching proof of it firsthand made it all the more unbearable.

And then you started bawling again.

"I just -" you choked out, "you had such an awful time as a kid- no mother, a good-as-dead father -"

Theo had this strange look on his face like he was desperately trying not to laugh.

"Y/N," he was saying gently, "they're just pictures. And all that was such a long time ago. I'm fine." He grinned. "Really."

You glared at him. You had half a mind to shove him away.

"Well, I'm not fine. How do you expect me to turn a blind eye to your hellish childhood? When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I care for you and I love you and it hurts to think about all those years you spent unloved?"

That sobered the both of you fairly quickly. After all that, Theo had the audacity to blink at you like some half-wit goldfish.

"...what?"

You pressed on impatiently. "You have to understand," you muttered through gritted teeth, "I cannot help but wish you didn't have to deal with - with any of this. Year after year, I see you trying so hard, trying your best even with all the odds stacked against y- and you're amused. Honestly, you're impossible. I'm baring my heart, sobbing my fucking lungs out, and you look like you want to laugh."

"It's just..." Theo shook his head as he trailed off, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "I haven't thought about any of that in a while."

His eyes crinkled, and suddenly the runt of a boy from the picture and the long-legged nineteen-year-old in front of you were one and the same.

"I don't feel unloved." He dragged his thumb down the vein in the crook of your elbow, all while looking at you like you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. "Not anymore."

Your hand crept up until they were holding his face. He stiffened slightly, not like he wanted to pull away, but like he didn't know what to expect. You leaned forward, brushing his nose against yours, feeling his warm breath tickle your face. He wasn't pushing you away. If anything, his grip on your elbow turned more vice-like as his eyes fluttered close.

Maybe you misread his signals. Maybe he'd hate you for this afterwards. But you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.

A sweet memory to balance out all the bitter ones his home held.

[34tmyh34rt]

König wanting to be tied up but he’s nervous to ask

Tying up subby König

Smut Ahead!!

A/n: This scared me to be completely honest, like how do I write this 😭 BUT I CAN DO THIS.

Sorry for the wait, I wanted to make sure that this was good for all of y’all :)

Tags: gn reader, afab reader, fat friendly fic, no pronouns except for ‘you’, sub König, dom reader, bondage, degradation (m receiving), after care included, slight obsessive König, toxic masculinity mentioned, gender roles mentioned, König being a wuss, what color have we agreed his eyes are??? also this fic is a lil silly, don’t take me too seriously, gets better as you read lol

König’s huge and beefy. He’s not made to be gentle, vulnerable. When you’re in military you gotta have muscles, not feelings. But lord does this big man just want to be put in his place.

Whenever he had the time - or privacy - bondage was always his favorite to pleasure himself to. The lack of control, putting your body in the hands of someone else, having to take everything you were given.

The soldiers he worked with didn’t have much of a filter, using any chance they could to compete in some stupid testosterone pissing match. They boasted about coming back home to their submissive wife that they could fold into a million positions. Talking about how strong and dominant they were - but König couldn’t help but wish for the roles to be reversed.

Being a dom never really did it for him, he didn’t get all the hype. He’d much rather be the one being played with like clay. Pushed and pulled in all directions, used like a doll, treated like a slut. But he could never tell the other men this! No, he’d be ridiculed! I mean, he breaks open doors for a living! He can’t whimper and beg!

But oh lord does he.

He loves his relationship with you. He doesn’t think he could ever find anyone who cares for him as much as you do. God you’re just so fucking perfect. You understand him so well. You don’t make fun of him, you know that he comes with a lot of fucking baggage. You’re so patient with him, especially when his anxiety is taking over.

He’s been too scared to go too far with you in the bedroom. He won’t even let you touch him, worried that he’ll turn into subby mess right under your hands. He’ll finger you or eat you out, never using his dick. If you ever complain or feel bad about the only one getting pleasured, he’ll just tell you that you deserve to feel good, so why don’t you just sit back and let him play with your body?

You guessed that he was just too anxious or insecure to actually fuck yet. You remind him every day that you love him and you’d never leave him, I mean, even that bulge is impressive. If he let you suck his dick once you’d be his forever. He’s so fucking hot and god won’t he just fuck you already!! Nothing could turn you off of an absolute hunk of man like him.

You’ve been begging more and more every day, even resorting wearing only his shirt and your underwear, hoping he’ll rip it right off of you and take you right then and there. Crawling into his lap and grinding down. But of course he’ll just effortlessly pick you up and set you down next to him, giving you a kiss on the head as a sort of apology and racing to the bathroom to deal with his massive… problem

You rolled your eyes, seriously?!?!?

You know that he’s jerking off. This is ridiculous, he obviously wants to fuck you, what the hell is going on? You can’t do this anymore! That’s it, you’re confronting him and getting a goddamn answer.

Your knuckles knock against the wooden door of the bathroom, “König. Get out here. Right now. I know you’re jerking off in there.”

König felt heat rush from his tummy to his cock, goddamnit now he was even harder. He strained against his pants painfully, a soft whimper tumbling past his lips. You’ve never been so demanding before. He hate how much it turned him on.

With a large hand clumsily hiding his bulge, König stumbled out of the bathroom. He was sheepish, refusing to look you in the eye. He looked so fucking pathetic. And he still looked sexy.

“König,” you drawled out his name, frustration evident in your tone - it sent another rush south, König’s eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the sound, “Are you gonna keep beating your dick in the bathroom or are you going to fuck me?”

You could practically hear König gulp, his hand squeezing down over his hard on. His wide eyes flickered down to your lips, you looked so hot when you were angry.

He nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze from you. He’ll probably last long enough, he just has to go slow - that’s all! He just has to keep focusing on being strong and manly and he won’t melt at the feeling of your pussy around his cock! Oh god, who is he kidding, he can’t stay dominate around yo-

“You want me to top you, don’t you?”

His heart dropped. How do you know? He’s quiet, he never has told you anything about his preferences! He’s in the military! He acts like all his peers, right?

His thoughts are racing and you can tell. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes moving back and forth - something you realized that he does every time he’s deep in thought. You let out a small giggle, “König, don’t be so oblivious, baby.”

You walk up to him, hand reaching up to hold his face. The simple touch has him sinking into your hold. “God look at you, it’s not hard to tell. You always liked it when I took charge,” you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “You want me to tie you up? Ride your cock until you can’t see straight? Prove to you how much of a slut you are?”

His knees almost buckle under him, you’re all he could ever want. He’s fantasied about you so many nights, worried that he’d never be enough for you. Worried that he wouldn’t live up to your expectations. But that’s okay, you have all the time in the world to prove to him what a good boy he is.

He couldn’t even think, stumbling as you dragged him into your shared room. You quickly tore off your shirt and pants, only allowing him enough time to take off his shirt before throwing him down on the bed, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thick, muscular thighs.

You looked so pretty on top of him. He loved being under you, he wish he could spend the rest of his life right here.

You playfully rutted your heat down on his rock hard cock, König threw back his head. He let out a loud whine, fingers digging into your hips. “You know König, I’ve been planning for this for oh so long. I’ve seen how squirmy you get whenever someone’s tied up on TV. How you grab something to cover your lap. But you’re just so obvious, huh baby?” You squished his cheeks between your fingers. Your voice was so condescending and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips up into you.

“God, you’re such a whore for me König.”

He whined, loud. His pretty pink lip caught between his teeth, brows drawn together. He watched as you opened up your bedside drawer and pulled out a bundle of delicate black lace. His face flushed, cock throbbing against you.

He stayed perfectly still for you as you gently grabbed his hands, leading them up the headboard, and tying them together in a neat little bow. The intricate fabric looked perfect next to his bulging muscles. You ran your fingers up and down the sprawling vine like veins in his arms, you could feel him quivering beneath you. His shallow breathes and occasional low moans tumbling past his mouth.

He gave an experimental tug to his bindings, he could barely move. A rush of blood flowed down to his cock. You were so strong, tying him up so tight, leaving him to your mercy.

You could feel him harden even more, a smirk gracing your face, “You like that baby? You like being tied up under me?” His head quickly nodded, his pretty blue eyes looking up at you.

“Maybe I should just leave you here…” you trail off, leaving kisses along his collarbone, “all desperate and whiny… I mean, it’s only fair after making me wait this long.”

You don’t think you’ve seen König so panicked before. His eyes were blown wide, hands tugging at his bindings so he can hold onto you and keep you right where he needs you. “N-no! Schatz please… please! Bitte mein leibling… I- y/n, I can’t-“ His words slurred, strung together by his thick accent.

“Come on König, stop blabbering. I know you can beg me better than that.” Your words shut him right up. You could see him process, his mind clouded with lust.

“Liebling… ich braunche dich, I need to have you t-touch me…” he pleaded for you, lips trembling and dick pressing against your thigh. “I want to be inside of you so bad, maus… fuck, I’m so hard for you y/n…” How could you deny him when he was begging you so sweetly?

“Only because you’re being such a good boy for me.” You smirked as you oh so slowly unbuttoned his pants. He thrust into the air uncontrollably, even the slightest touch drove him mad. “Ah-ah, stay still König.” His teeth dug into his lip at your words.

You pulled him out of his boxers, his cock slapping up against his tummy with how aroused he was. Pre cum slid down to his base in pretty droplets. You wrapped your hand around him, barely covering him entirely from just how big he was. König let out small breathy whimpers, the heat of your hand was just so warm and nice against his hard on.

You gave him a small lick at his tip, the flavor of his cock spreading deliciously across your tongue. König let out a loud, drawn out groan. More and more peals dribbled from the slit and you quickly caught them in your mouth. König pulled down on his restraints as you slowly took the head of his dick in your mouth, sucking gently.

He loved when you treated him so sweetly, so softly. So lovingly. But lord could he not wait for you to fuck him up.

You started bobbing up and down on his cock effortlessly, taking him nice and easy. You looked up him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks and it sent his stomach in knots. It felt so good, the warmth and wetness of your mouth was like heaven. Your teeth grazing the skin of his dick, a small reminder that he was under your mercy and control. To another man it might be threatening to think that their pleasure could so easily be turned into something so painful if the person blowing them off only clamped slightly…

But it just pushed him closer to the edge. Being placed in between those pretty jaws of yours, so sweet but so dangerous. Of course you’d never hurt him, at least not more than he could handle - or enjoy.

He thrusted up into your mouth only for your hands to hold down his hips. Your eyes glowered at him in warning, you were in charge of his pleasure. He whimpered as a sort of apology, too enraptured in the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips to form words. Your saliva pooling at his base and mixing with his pre cum.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his stomach tightening in short spasms. “Maus, I- I’m gonna… ‘M gonna cum…” His breath came out heavy in between his words, your mouth never ceasing as you watched him stumble his words out.

Your lips pulled off his cock with a small ‘pop’, hand lazily moving up and down on his length. “Yeah? You gonna cum? Am I making you feel that good?” His eyes watered, your words so teasing and mean but so arousing. You let out a little chuckle at his state, feeling him twitch in your hand, “Go ahead, cum for me. Cum for me like the slut you are”

You brought your head back down on his dick, moving fast and rough. He loves the way you talk to him, the way you treat him. Like he’s yours. He pulled harder on the lace holding him in hopes of grounding himself, hoping to somehow deal with the overwhelming pleasure you were giving him.

You let his hips thrust into you as he chased his orgasm, loud whines and strings of your name leaving his mouth. You kept your gaze on his face as his brows pinched and eyes closed tight. You felt his cum spill past your lips and leaking down onto his lap. You kept sucking his off long past his high came down, aftershocks twitching throughout his body.

“W-wait it’s, it’s too much- ngh! Oh my god…- y/n!” You giggled watching him squirm with overstimulation. You laid one of your hands down on his hips, pressing down against him. The other hand traced up and down his cock. It was still hard, pressed against his tummy and smearing left over cum on his skin. He jumped with each ghost of your fingers and whined for your teasing to stop.

You eventually slowed your hand, grinning at the mess König had become beneath you, “Alright pretty boy, so fucking sensitive, huh? But if you’re too sensitive for me to even touch you, how am I going to properly fuck you?”

Standing at the edge of the bed you slowly pulled your underwear down, looking at every twitch of König cock as he watched you. You climbed into his lap, your bare cunt hovering above his dick.

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and he gazed at you as though you were sent by god just for him. “Du bist so schön, meine Liebe.”

König’s lip quivered as you lower yourself down onto him. His hard cock stretched out your walls so wonderfully. So hot and thick, and all yours. You threw back your head at the feeling of König disappearing into you inch by inch.

“König you feel so fucking good baby, filling me up soooo much”

König searched for your eyes, needing to know just how good he was making you feel. Him. Not anyone else, him. He felt like he’d cum just at the thought of pleasuring you so well.

His hands shook in his bindings, he craved the feeling of your skin. He needed to run his hands up the curves of your tits, and down the fat of your hips. He needed to grab your stomach and grope your thigh. He just needed to touch- but he was a good boy. He wouldn’t beg you to untie him, no, he needed to prove he could be nothing but a toy for you to use. This was all about you.

God, you.

Your hips met his and the final stretch lodged a moan through your pretty lips. König involuntarily bucked into you as a tear rolled down his cheek at the bliss of being inside of you.

You reached down a hand to dry his face, your other hand pressing down against his lap,

“Aw, Baby, it’s okay. Don’t get too excited though, you keep still.”

Your voice was soft but firm. So melodious. It sounded like honey to König and you could feel him throb inside of you as he held back another thrust.

You teasingly rolled your hips with his full dick inside of you, head thrown back and thoroughly enjoying yourself. König’s teeth burrowed into the soft plush of his lip, overwhelmed by the sight of your heavenly state and the overstimulation to his cock.

His jaw dropped open as he felt you slowly rise up until only the tip was encased in your warmth, and then quickly falling back down to his hips. You watched as König whimpered, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through him.

You picked up the pace with each movement, up and down, up and down. More and more whines tumbling past König’s lips as they harmonized with your own moans. Your slick and his cum mixed together over his hips and the insides of your thighs. You reached a hand forward, tracing patterns on his stone hard stomach. It was like chiseled marble, perfectly sculpted all for only you to see and to touch.

He jumped, the muscle in his tummy jumping at the feeling and relaxing at your chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are, König.” You leaned forward even more, lips teasing his ear. “It’s gonna make fucking you a lot harder for you and a lot more fun for me.”

You straightened your back, mean grin gracing your features. König’s eyes reached the back of his skull, too pleasured to feel real fear at your words. It only pushed him further to finishing. His stomach muscles spasming in preparation and his body tensing.

You suddenly stopped, his cock fully encased in your tight warmth. A twisted cry came from König, desperate for you to continue but not daring to thrust his hips into you. You leaned against your arms propped on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes as he stared back.

Your voice was low aa you spoke, “Are you gonna cum again, König? Cum for your first time from my pussy? Cumming like the pussy drunk slut you are?”

A small sob left König, tears falling from his face. It was as all so much, almost too much. Having you be everything he’s ever dreamed of. He nodded his head, your word bouncing around his skull.

“Y-yes meine liebe, please. Please, let me. I love you.” Another sob, “Ngh, I’m- I’m your slut y/n, I’m your whore.”

“Awww.” You smiled wickedly at him, crashing your lips against his as you continued to ride him. His cock reached all the right places, leading you to your own release. You bit at his lips and even his tongue, his moans filling your mouth. Drool dribbled down his chin and slid down his neck.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave. The sound of your skin connecting was like music to König’s ears. The sound of accomplishment. The sound of his love in physical form. The sound of you taking him and putting him right where he fucking belonged.

His tummy tightened again, dick pulsing inside of you. You felt your own stomach pool with pleasure. You momentarily broke from König’s mouth, saliva stringing you together. His tongue lolled out, desperate for your connection to resume.

“Cum for me König, cum with me and prove to me that you’re mine and only mine.” Your lips reached his yet again as your hips moved faster and faster. You even allowed König to sloppily thrust into you. Each time your bodies met it felt like heaven, pushing you further and further to what you knew would be an other worldly orgasm.

All that mattered in this moment was you, it didn’t matter if he fucked before or if he’d cum from someone else before. It felt like he was doing it for the first time. Like this was the only time that mattered. The only person that made him feel this fucking good. This fucking loved.

The pleasure rose and rose, until it snapped. Euphoria rushing over your bodies in waves. A strangled cry pushed into your mouth from König. You could feel him filling you up, warmth spreading throughout your body. You did a few more slow lazy thrusts before pulling yourself off of him, sitting up and looking down at the mess you made.

God he was pathetic, tears drying against his face, lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes looking at you with pure admiration.

You lazily crawled off the bed, leaving König whining for you. When you returned you had a warm wet towel. You sat next to König and gently cleaned him off, careful to not overwhelm him too much. You could feel him jump underneath you every now and then from his overstimulation. When you were done you quickly cleaned your self off and laid the towel on the bed side table, turning back to König who watched your every move with a soft gaze.

You untied the lace around his wrists, holding them in your hands and massaging them lightly. “Does your skin hurt at all baby?”

“N-no. Well, not unbearably. The sting… feels nice.” His voice was husky and low. You smiled at him, before lying down and cuddling up to his chest. He was damp with sweat and his flesh was feverishly hot under your hands. His arm snaked under you and held you tight against him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much maus, thank you… thank you for making me yours.”

A/n: oh. my. god. It’s finally over. I finally finished it. Sorry for being gone for so long! Hope this makes up for my absence :)

[eggyrocks]

OVERNIGHT: SAKUSA K. in an empty bar on new year's eve, sakusa meets a girl, and he can't bring himself to say goodbye

tags/warnings: sakusa x f!reader, meet cute, new years, strangers to lovers, timeskip, alcohol mention, ooc sakura, background atsuhina, flirting via gossip, just lonely people finding each other

word count: 3.4k

It’s New Year's Eve, and Sakusa is alone. 

Unless you count Atsumu and Hinata, tucked into a corner and drunkenly singing into fake microphones (because the bar doesn’t offer real karaoke), to an eighties pop-ballad. Or the old man stoically sitting in a cracked leather booth, gripping a half-empty glass of scotch that it looks like he’s been drinking since the seventies. Or the bartender who has not once looked up from his phone in the past twenty minutes and would clearly rather be at a better bar. Or the girl who’s collapsed onto the bartop, face hidden by her arms and her second drink empty besides her. 

Which Sakusa doesn’t. So, he’s alone. 

If he had his way, he’d be at home. He would be asleep by the time the clock struck midnight, and he would wake up to the new year. But Sakusa doesn’t have his way, because apparently the words no, I don’t want to go out, don’t have the same weight they used to, and two idiots will show up at your door and drag you out, anyways. 

He looks over his shoulder. Two more hours until New Years, and Atsumu and Hinata are already drunk, arms sloppily thrown over each other’s shoulders, leaning on each other for support. Maybe Bokuto has the right idea, and getting into a serious relationship is the only sure-fire way to avoid nights like this. 

Sakusa glances over to the bartender, who’s adjusted his position so he could plug in his phone to charge. He then glances over to the old man, and it looks like he hasn’t moved an inch, but there’s definitely less scotch in his glass now. And then, he looks to his left, to the girl who’s face down at the bar.

Sakusa eyes her, a bit. He wonders if she’s okay, or if she’s just that drunk. This thought concerns him, and it annoys him. Because if she’s so drunk that she can’t sit up, it sort of becomes his problem. He can’t just leave her here, limp and unmoving in a sketchy bar with none of her friends around. 

He contemplates saying something to her, and has already decided against poking at her arm to try and rouse her. His mouth opens underneath his mask to say something, but Sakusa closes it. He doesn’t know what the proper thing is to say. 

“I can feel you staring at me,” comes a muffled voice from the lump of limbs that is the girl at the bar. “I’m not passed out, I’m just miserable.” 

Sakusa’s face heats up at the notion of being caught, and his shoulders stiffen up. “Um, okay,” he says. 

The girl straightens up, slightly groaning as she does so. When she turns to face Sakusa, he has the thought that she’s actually pretty, if you ignore the indents left on her face from it being pressed against the bar. “Are you here alone?” she asks. 

“No, I’m with them over there,” he says, gesturing behind him towards Atsumu and Hinata, answering without realizing it. “Unfortunately.” 

She spins around on the barstool to get a good look at them, and when she spins back around, her shoulders are slumped and the corners of her mouth are downturned into a pout. Sakusa almost laughs at the way her expressions are so dramatized. But he doesn’t, his mouth remains pressed in a flat line. 

“I’m here alone,” she explains, though she doesn’t have to, Sakusa figured. Unless she was here with the old man or the world’s rudest bartender. “I was supposed to go out with my friend tonight, but that didn’t work out,” she says, and then pauses, like she’s waiting for Sakusa to ask her about it. He doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s pretty depressing,” she comments, resting her cheek on her hand, “being alone on New Year’s. I feel like a fucking loser.” 

“Not that bad,” Sakusa comments, twisting his hands together in his lap. “It’s how I would’ve preferred to spend the night.” 

In the corner of the bar, the singing duo of Atsumu and Hinata trails off, and the sound of their silence turns Sakusa’s head. He peers over his shoulder again to see them both, clinging onto each other, in hysterics, laughing silently as they grip at each other. 

There’s a small lurch in Sakusa’s gut, though he can’t quite place it. He turns his attention back to the girl. 

“Your friends seem fun,” she comments. “And you seem kind of like a buzzkill.” 

Sakusa bristles, though he supposes he has no reason to be offended. All she knows about him is that he’s sitting at a bar, pouting, while his loud, drunk friends have more fun than him. “I’m not the one alone at a bar on New Year’s,” he retorts half-heartedly.

He expects her to be equally as offended as he was, but she doesn’t seem to be. She just sort of shrugs, looking deflated. “I mean, you’ve got me there.” 

She removes the heel of her palm from her cheek and drags the tip of her finger along the rim of her empty glass. He’s sure she would go for another one if the bartender was paying closer attention. She looks lonely. And maybe he’s just bored. Maybe he feels bad for insulting her. Maybe he just feels the same. But, regardless, he has this odd urge to keep her company. And that odd urge makes him ask, “What happened with your friend?” 

She sighs. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“I have time,” Sakusa replies.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The bartender pulled himself away from his phone long enough to top off their drinks, and now Sakusa’s body feels warm. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he says, words dragged out by the alcohol in his veins. 

“See, that’s exactly what I’m saying!” she exclaims. Sakusa’s noticed that the more she drinks, the more expressive she gets. She waves around her arms and speaks with her hands and slams them down on the bartop when she gets too excited. “Because it would’ve been fine if she didn’t have the money for rent one time, I don’t mind covering if she’s going through it, but obviously she did have the money, and she just wanted to use it for her stupid birthday party and then not invite me.” 

Sakusa’s eyes feel heavier than they did before. There’s an hour-twenty until the new year. He’s more invested in her story-telling than he thought she would be. “So she was essentially asking you to pay for a party that you weren’t invited to.” 

“Isn’t it such a dick move?” she questions excitedly, like she’s ecstatic to have someone agree with her, to tell her she’s right, even if it is a half-drunk stranger at a bar. “And, it’s like she was going for the biggest dick in the universe award, because on top of all of that, she just straight up lied to me about that stupid party and told me her parents were taking her out for dinner. Like, do you think I’m an idiot? We have the same friends. We literally live together. I’m not that stupid.”

Sakusa likes listening to her talk. She has a pretty voice. He likes listening to it, hearing when it cracks or when it rises an octave. She’s gotten prettier, too. It might have something to do with the drink in his hands, but it’s like she has this soft glow that emits from her, soft and warm. And despite her raging, Sakusa feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He’s abandoned his mask in favor of drinking, so it’s out in the open, there for her to see. 

She doesn’t notice, though, she’s caught up in her storytelling, talking loudly to eclipse the music that plays. “And I wasn’t going to say anything at first, because I was really trying to keep the peace until I was able to move out, but then I found out that she was talking-” 

“Omi!” 

She is cut off by Atsumu, properly drunk and not even attempting to hide it. “We were gonna walk back to my place so me and Sho could count down the New Year there. Wanna come?” 

“No,” Sakusa answers sharply. Atsumu tosses an arm over his shoulder and it nearly makes Sakusa shudder. He shoves Atsumu’s hot, sweaty arm off of him, and Atsumu pays no mind to this, just switches his embrace over to Hinata, who flanks him with his eyes fluttering shut. “Can’t you just stay here?” 

“This bar sucks,” Hinata whines, head flopping onto Atsumu’s shoulders, and Sakusa can swear he sees the bartender glare at him from the corner of his eye. “Come back with us, I hate it here.” 

Hinata seemed to like it plenty twenty minutes ago when he was singing his lungs out to city pop, Sakusa’s not exactly sure what’s changed since then. And while he’s trying to figure it out, Atsumu seems to notice that Sakusa’s not exactly alone at the bar anymore. 

“You can bring the hot girl back with you, if you want, I don’t care,” Atsumu says, which earns him a light whack upside the head. 

“Don’t be a dick,” Sakusa chastises him. He looks back at the girl at the bar, and he realizes then that he never asked her name. “I’m sorry about him, he’s a jackass.” 

She has this expression on her face that seems half-way between uncomfortable and amused. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “And you don’t have to stay here on my account. I was probably going to head home soon, anyways.” 

That’s a lie, Sakusa thinks, and he’s irritated with the interruption. He wants to know what she was going to say next. He wants to know exactly how it is that she ended up here, alone. “No, you were talking. I want to hear the rest of your story.” 

Hinata perks up. “Sakusa, just stay here and talk to your new friend, and we’ll just go back.” 

“Yeah,” Atsumu agrees, “you don’t ever make new friends. We don’t wanna ruin it for you.” 

Sakusa hopes she doesn’t notice the way his face starts to burn up. “I don’t trust you two to get back. You’re too drunk, you’ll end up frozen in a park by morning.” 

“You know,” she interrupts, and Sakusa turns to look at her, “if you guys walked, I wouldn’t mind going with you. I could finish my story on the go.” 

Sakusa blinks. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

She’s bundled up for the cold, a knit hat pulled down over her ears and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck several times. And even though her hands are covered by a pair of mittens, she still shoves them deep into the pockets of her jacket, trying to shield them further from the wind. Sakusa cannot stop thinking about how cute he finds this. 

They walk several paces behind Atsumu and Hinata, who, since leaving the bar, have not detached from each other. Still, Sakusa can hear their laughter, and he wonders if there was a reason he had to be dragged out tonight, if it was just going to be those two all over each other. 

For some reason, though, he feels more appreciative of it now. 

“I think your friends are in love with each other,” she comments, voice slightly muffled from the scarf that obscures her mouth. 

Sakusa scoffs. “Yeah, it’s been like this for a while. Tonight might be their breaking point.” 

The wind blows between them. There’s old, icy snow on either side of them. The sidewalk is gray and covered in salt. The night looks as cold as it feels, and Sakusa can feel it run down his spine. His jacket’s too thin for the wind. He shivers, and she looks up at him. 

“Here,” she says, grabbing at the end of her scarf and unraveling it from her neck. “Take this.” 

“No, you don’t have to-” Sakusa starts, but is cut off when she tosses the scarf around the back of his neck, and throws the end of it over his shoulder. 

Sakusa blanks, for a moment, stunned. The scarf smells warm, like cinnamon, and when it touches the back of his neck, he gets goosebumps. “Thanks,” he says. 

She pulls the hood of her jacket up over her head to make up for the loss. “You looked too cold. It was making me colder.” 

“So what happened next?” Sakusa questions, and she looks at him with a raised brow. “In your story. You said you were trying to keep the peace with your roommate, and then you got cut off. What happened next?”

For a moment, she looks at Sakusa, and she smiles. It feels nice to be on the receiving end of it. It eases a strain in Sakusa’s chest that he didn’t even realize was there. “Yeah, right. I was going to try and keep the peace, but then I found out she was talking to my ex-boyfriend behind my back, and that was like, the whole reason she didn’t want to invite me to her party in the first place. Which, I mean, if they’re going to talk, fine, that’s none of my business, but I just think it’s so weird to choose a man you’re not dating over your friend. Especially because no one was making her choose!” 

She immediately falls back into her animated retelling, and Sakusa notices that her pace is matching his. He listens, and watches as their footprints leave faint, matching prints in the salt and dust of the sidewalk. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The scarf makes him warmer. So does her voice. Sakusa gets so caught up in it he doesn’t realize they’ve reached Atsumu’s apartment. 

“Hey Omi!” Atsumu calls from the front door, her and Sakusa still lagging several feet behind them. “Are you going to come up?” 

“No,” he replies, “I’m gonna walk her home.” 

From the corner of his eye, Sakusa can see her look up at him in surprise, her raised eyebrows hidden under the hood of her jacket. It makes him smile, despite himself. 

Atsumu shrugs. He takes Hinata’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “Alright man, I get you. See you next year!” 

Once Atsumu and Hinata have disappeared, she says, “You don’t have to walk me home, y’know.” 

“Yes I do,” Sakusa counters. “It’s late, you can’t walk back alone. Plus you haven’t finished your story yet.” 

She hasn’t, and Sakusa needs her too. She was in the middle of telling him about how her roommate’s mother sent her a scathing letter, and Sakusa’s too invested to give up on it now. Her mouth twists into a smile, like she’s fighting it. “My apartment’s kinda far from here.” 

And despite her warning, she turns, and starts walking back in the direction she came from, and Sakusa follows, eagerly falling back into place and matching her step. “Gives you plenty of time to finish what you were saying.”

“You know, I’m surprised you actually care this much,” she tells him, half-teasing. Her gloves hand brushes against him as her arms swing. “You kinda seemed like the type who loves not caring about shit.” 

He doesn’t want to be offended, because she’s right, but he is. Sakusa’s irked that that’s her perspective on him, and he’s irked that he does care so much. “I just wanna know how I ended up meeting you tonight.” 

Sakusa watches from the corner of her eye as she tilts her head, and she makes this little noise of contemplation in the back of her throat that gives Sakusa goosebumps again. “It is nice to have someone to talk to,” she says. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to talk to about it. Hey, what’s your name by the way? I heard your friends call you Omi.” 

He looks down at his feet. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.” 

She tells him her name, and it fits her. He repeats it over in his head a few times, once under his breath. He likes the sound of it. He likes the way it feels when he says it. 

“Thanks for spending New Year’s listening to me rant, Sakusa,” she tells him with a smile. 

He returns it, because he can’t help himself. “No problem.” 

There’s a beat of silence, the only noise being their shoes crunching against small, harmless patches of ice. She takes a deep breath. “So, anyways, when I got that letter from her mom, I basically freaked the fuck out, because so far that was like, the most insane thing to happen to me ever.” 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

By the time she leads them back to her apartment, Sakusa hates her roommate more than he’s ever hated anyone, and he can’t feel the tips of his fingers. He keeps thinking about taking one of his hands out of his jacket pocket, and stuffing it into hers, their hands becoming one, clammy, knotted-up, warm mess. The thought makes him nervous. 

“So then, earlier tonight, I got a call from her, and she told me she was moving out, and leaving me alone with the lease, but we could still go out tonight if I wanted. But at that point, I just kind of gave up, and I told her to go out without me. Then I looked up cheap bars nearby, and I ended up meeting you.” 

Her timing’s perfect. She stops on the sidewalk in front of her building, and turns to face Sakusa directly. He hums. “That’s a pretty fucked up story,” he tells her. 

“I know,” she replies with a nod. “It’s a great start to the new year, right?” 

“At least I got to meet you,” he tells her, and he doesn’t know why he says it. He just sort of says it, naturally, and even though his cheeks go red, he doesn’t regret it. 

She gives him a soft smile. “This is my place. Thanks for walking me back.” 

“Of course, I was happy to.” 

Her hand pulls out of her pocket, and her phone comes with it. She presses a button on the side, and the screen lights up. “It’s twelve o’one,” she tells him. “We missed it, fuck.” 

Sakusa is suddenly flushed with thoughts of a New Year’s kiss, and he lets himself think them, because there’s no harm if he doesn’t say it outloud. He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

She nods, and keeps her eyes down on her feet. Sakusa has this odd urge to grab her by the chin and make her meet his eye. He doesn’t know what it is about her, or her squeaky voice and terrible roommate and her dramatics and extravagant storytelling, but he feels like he’s been hooked by something. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to her. 

Her feet shift her weight around. “I have other stories, by the way.” 

Sakusa raises his brow. “What do you mean?” 

She looks behind her, for a second, and then back at him. Not quite looking him in the eye, her gaze hovers somewhere around his chest. “I have a lot of stories, actually. Horrible exes. Family drama. Lots of stuff I could tell you about sometime, if you wanted to hear it.” 

His chest feels like it’s expanding. “I want to hear them,” he tells her outright. “Any time you want to tell them.” 

She reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, and pulls out a slip of paper. A teared up piece of the receipt from the bar. She hands it to him, and Sakusa takes it, her gloves brushing against his finger tips. “I was hoping you’d ask for my number, so I came prepared. Call me the next time you want to hear something crazy.” 

Sakusa smiles. “I will.” 

“Happy New Year, Sakusa,” she says, and she stands on the tips of her toes to place a soft, quick kiss to her cheek. 

And before he has time to react, she rushes away, disappearing behind the front door of her apartment building. Sakusa’s hand reaches up to hover the spot where her lips touched him, and it feels numb. 

He looks down at the paper in her hand. Her number, written in smudged pen ink, and a note that says, the girl slumped over at the bar who talks too much-call me if you’re into that. 

Sakusa smiles, with her scarf still around his neck and folds it neatly back up, placing it in the front pocket of his jacket.

an: happy new year i love u all

[adioringhamzah]

idk if u take requests but it’s worth giving a shot lolll!!! you dont have to but im sooo in need of the idea of being friends with benefits with hamzah. like there are deeper feelings attached and both of them clearly like each other but neither know or can bring it up…. this could be a one shot or a series IDKKKK BUT ID BE SO GRATEFUL

when you started being friends with benefits with one of your best friends, hamzah, you didn't think you would catch feelings

a.n : fwb y/n x hamzah, fem reader, sfw : fluff & mentions of sex, no fc, might make it into a series with pt 2 being hamzah's pov but only if u want!

you’re scrolling on tiktok when a notification pops up from one of your dearest friends : hamzah. "can i come over pls pls? :((" you read, reacting quickly with a thumbs up.

you already know why he wants to come, and it’s definitely not to watch a movie or drink tea.

for almost a month now, your platonic relationship has turned into something more. or, not really... technically, you’re still just platonic friends, but now with a few added perks.

it all started when you both realized you were single and seriously touch starved, but not quite ready for a real relationship.

the whole thing came up during a random movie night, when you watched a film about friends with benefits. at first, it was just jokes– both of you laughing and pointing out how relatable the characters were.

but then… you started wondering, what if this actually works? and it turns out it does.

now, whenever one of you feels like it, you just send a quick text, pick a place, and that’s it. no strings, no mandatory daily good morning texts, no explaining where you’re going or who you’re with.

while waiting for him to arrive, you brush through your hair quickly, wipe the mascara that smudged under your eyes, and for a second, think about changing into something sexier.

but decide against it since you don’t need to impress him and feel comfier in your pyjamas anyway.

when you open the door, hamzah’s standing there in his "vote kanye" sweater (which, annoyingly, you kind of love) and oversize blue jeans.

you let him in without a word, and he kicks his uggs off like it's his own home.

“so, how was your day?” you ask as he sits down on your couch.

“boring as hell,” he says, stretching out, “you?”

“same,” you reply, sitting next to him.

you both look at each other and just know you’re about to make this boring day a little more interesting.

"so what did you have in mind?" you ask him.

"ermmm" he starts to mumble, slowly getting closer to you, leaving your question unanswered.

he places his big hand on your waist and moves you even closer to him, now both of you being just centimetres away from each other.

this is not the first time you've made use of those benefits, obviously.

in the one month you have been doing this, it almost always went the same : you make the shortest small talk, then start by making out, before getting a lot more intimate and you can probably guess the rest.

hamzah actually loves making you try sabrina carpenter's poses, which had become almost a ritual.

usually, there wasn't any awkward tension. it felt natural as if he were your boyfriend. but this time felt weirdly different.

being so close to hamzah made you feel somewhat shy. you can feel his gaze all over your body while you look into his dark eyes filled with excitement.

he seems to feel your discomfort, backing up a little and looking into your eyes, trying to decipher whatever's wrong with you.

you brush it off quickly, explaining you were just lost in your thoughts and he seems to believe you, now getting closer to kiss you.

if you're actually honest with yourself, this friendship might not be that platonic (on your side at least)... you've been friends for about a year, and it had been one of the best of your life.

he always seems to "get" you, and you could spend hours just playing overcooked or listening to lana while talking about whatever news you just saw on tiktok.

but since you became friends with benefits, you felt different around him.

before, you had always loved him–as a friend–and really appreciated his company.

truthfully, it was the kind of friendship where if he asked you to be his girlfriend, you probably would've said yes.

but obviously, it never happened, and you consoled yourself with knowing that those faint feelings you have couldn't be confirmed... until you had sex with him.

fantasising about you two together was one thing. and doing everything you wanted to do to him but as friends was completely another.

you can't tell him, but after he leaves, you always feel lonely. a boyfriend would stay the night, make you breakfast, and check in with you.

whereas for you, instead of date proposals or check-ins, you get sent silly tiktoks or the shortest texts asking you to come at your house. never mentioning the intimate moments you shared.

once he closes the door and you're left all alone, you can't help but reminisce about his muscled arms around your body or his veiny hands on your boobs.

or even his soft lips on yours and his faint smell of bleu de chanel cologne.

and now, with him kissing you, all these thoughts came rushing back.

you start playing with his hair–that smells incredible thanks to his shea shampoo–, trying to distract yourself while he continues kissing you as if it was the cure to all of his problems (he must have a lot of those).

moreover, you can't help but feel jealous seeing his followings : a girlfriend could have a say in that. but you can't, and have to listen to him talking about whatever pretty girl he saw on his fyp.

but you aren't quite ready to give up on those benefits...

after all, what if hamzah has those hidden feelings for you too?..

next part

i hope u liked it!! also i love getting all of your feedback and what you thought of it, and tysm for the anon that requested this <3

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 22. bumping into... you? (half-written)

a/n: i need tim tams rn i'm so hungry... either that or ketchup chips or lowk i would kill for rice crackers oh myogosdkjadllksda

after checking your phone to read the numbers plastered on your screen, you were appalled.

you've woken up at the most ungodly hour. since you passed out early, your body naturally decided to wake you up at three in the morning. maybe that's because you took a nap prior to (getting scared to death) meeting up with anton.

you rolled around in bed for at least fifteen minutes, trying to keep your eyes closed and force yourself back to sleep. nothing worked, sleep is not happening again tonight—or, well, this morning.

now you're in the bathroom of anton's grandparents' (who are the sweetest couple ever for letting you stay the night, even telling you to visit more often when you're free) house looking at yourself in the mirror. your eyes are a bit puffy after sleeping, and your hair is a bit disheveled. but now that you're up there's no going back to sleep for another few hours.

after glancing at yourself once more and splashing cold water on your face, you decide that maybe a late-night walk—and snack run—isn't the worst option. your stomach growls just a bit after you've made the decision, and you come to the conclusion that this has to happen, especially since the nearest convenience store isn't too far.

when you go back to the room, you search around for your puffer jacket, plopping it on the t-shirt you stole from anton and deciding to keep the gray sweatpants you have on. before you leave the room, you also steal a beanie—anton's. speaking of him, he's passed out on the large bed clinging onto a pillow, facing the other direction and snoring lightly. you sneak a picture, it's what best friends are for.

the store is a fifteen-minute walk away, which is enough time to clear your head and listen to a few songs from your playlist. and when you get there, you scan the to-go food section, grab one roll of gimbap, then head to the drink aisle.

you scan the options before reaching over to grab a peach tea, then your hand brushes against someone else's suddenly. startled, you glance up. the girl next to you is wearing a mask, and you've got your earbuds in, so you silently nod your head and mouth an apology before stepping back to let them take the drink.

the girl pauses, her eyes widening slightly. then, to your surprise, she lowers her mask.

it's hanni.

you both freeze for a second, taking in the absurdity of the situation before breaking into quiet laughter. "no way," she says, "what a coincidence."

"couldn't wait to see me again? it's only been a few days." you reply, voice light and teasing. a bold response, but hanni laughs brightly, matching your energy.

"you could say that, if you want to get ahead of yourself."

you chuckle softly before grabbing your own drink, and before you know it, you're walking side by side to the register together. after you two pay, hanni is the first to question you.

"so, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"i woke up early on accident, couldn't sleep after that." you admit. "i was sleeping over at my friends' grandparents' place. the house isn't far from here and i like walking..." you glance at her. "you?"

"it's one of my off days," she says, tucking her hands into the pocket of her cardigan. "but i accidentally set my alarm way too early, and once i woke up, i couldn't go back to sleep. so... here i am."

you both chuckle, the conversation flowing easily after that while you snack and sip. hanni seems pleasantly surprised by how casual it all feels, especially given how tense your first meeting had been. the two of you talk about everything—from yunjin's antics to random late-night thoughts, even snacks.

hanni finds herself smiling at the anecdote you drop about your favorite dried squid snack from a store near your house back home. when you sigh, looking up at the moon acting all sad, it makes her laugh. and then hanni starts talking about tim tams, talking about how much she misses the taste of them and that she'd do anything to have one right now. you agree with her, both of you are a tad bit homesick.

the two of you continue to talk about snacks, specifically getting heated over snacks you both hate. it's then that you catch hanni shivering a bit, offering to give her your jacket since she's only in a cardigan and a long sleeve thermal.

her eyes widen at the offer. "no, it's fine, really." hanni assures, "you're so sweet, thank you."

"just wear it for now." you slip one arm out and continue as you fully take it off. "i have a really warm hoodie underneath."

hanni hesitates, biting the inside of her lip before she takes the puffer.

"thank you y/n," hanni says as she takes the jacket, slipping it on and immediately grateful for the warmth it provides. "i owe you."

"it's nothing." you shrug, sipping on your tea and smiling. "can't have you getting sick, you know?"

hanni realizes that wow, you're even better than the little version of yourself she's made up in her head. you're real and sweet and kind and cute. you're more than just a great singer, but a great person. and with that though hanni wonders if she should tell you about, well, how she's a fangirl

before she can do so, you bashfully admit as you kick a rock, "so, uh, i've been listening to your group more lately. after running into you last time, i felt bad about not knowing much about you and the others."

"oh. you don't have to feel bad," she says quickly, her voice soft and assuring.

"well, i do." you say with a small laugh. "but i'm glad i did. i've had ditto on repeat, i made my friend from new jersey—the one from the sleepover—listen and watch the music videos. and also..." you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck before continuing, "you look really pretty in the music video and the performances."

hanni blinks, her steps faltering for just a moment before her cheeks turn pink. she looks away, biting back a shy smile. "thanks," she murmurs, clearly flustered.

before long, it's time to part ways. hanni slips off your puffer jacket, and when you put it back on, it smells more like sugar cookie than your normal scent of jasmine. and as soon as you look back at hanni, you realize that your puffer suited her well despite it being a bit long and oversized.

you stand in front of her after throwing away the packaging, mustering up some courage. "hey, before um, you know, we part..."

"yeah?" hanni asks, suddenly nervous as well.

"would it be okay if i got your number? i know it might be too forward, with you being an idol and all, so no worries if—"

"of course." hanni interrupts, smiling as she pulls out her phone. "i don't mind at all."

a smile pulls at your lips and hanni can't help but mirror your expression. you exchange numbers, and as she tucks her phone back into her pocket, she glances back up at you. "i'm glad we ran into each other, it's no surprise that you and yunjin are friends, haha."

"i'm glad we ran into each other as well. you're really interesting, i like you—your energy! i mean. yeah, you're um, you're cool." you cringe internally, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words? gosh, you sound like a child, who says 'you're cool—'

"hey y/n?"

"ah. yeah?"

"it'd be nice to get to know you more. i'd, i'd um, i'd like to hangout with you again sometime. it can be just us— o-or you know, yunjin too... maybe my members, y-you know." hanni is stuttering, and now she wants to turn and run and never look back. she looks back into your eyes, taking a quick breath in. "if you're down."

"i'd like that a lot." you respond immediately, grinning.

"right, okay." hanni smiles and it's then you realize just how short she is. it's kind of funny, but maybe you'll tease her another time. she tilts her head up just a bit to meet your gaze and the street lamp really makes her eyes stand out.

you can't believe you've just landed a new bond with not only an interesting person, but a whole idol. after getting to know hanni more, the whole idol thing doesn't really shake you as much. you just see her as someone who's really funny when discussing how much she loves eating everything and anything.

"i'll text you later." you say, "is that okay?"

"of course it is." hanni beams.

"okay." you give her a thumbs up before fixing the beanie on your head.

"you should try to sleep in again," she adds.

"yeah... i should." you giggle—hanni does too.

hanni waves at you and walks off. you watch her go for a moment, a strange fluttery feeling in your chest. as you turn and head back toward anton's grandparents' place, you can't help but smile to yourself.

it's a little past six in the morning, which means you've been out with hanni for around two hours.

two hours well spent, you conclude.

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @sonotcopingatall @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld

[sschizoid]

Hello :3 may I pretty please request like, hcs of the tulpar crew traveling together?

I mean imagine this, they gather all their last paychecks from Pony Express and decide a place to go, how, what to see...etc

I just think I'd have some fun dynamics

omg hehe this ask has so much room for fun interpretation, like where are they going, how they're getting there, etc. but I think I'm gonna narrow this down tooooo badadadadadadadadum AIRPORT! where they're going is up to you!

-- curly

he's what you would call an Airport Dad™. wakes up EARLY to pack everything into the car and to pick everyone else up. keeps worrying that they're going to be late but they end up arriving 3 hours before boarding

overpacks. has a checked luggage just barely within weight parameters, as well as a carry-on AND a backpack. he packs for every scenario, every weather type, every activity

he's the one that bought everybody's ticket and holds onto them for safekeeping. he's also got one of those airline SkyMile credit cards, so he got everyone a pretty good deal regarding expenses!

brought one of those neck pillows since he gets stiff pretty easily when sitting down for too long. also brought one of those cooling eye masks and comfy socks. bro is the plane equivalent of a passenger princess

jimmy

he was still sleeping when curly got to his house. oh also he forgot to pack the night before, so he makes everyone wait in the car for 30 extra minutes while he takes his sweet ass time shoving random shit into a backpack

probably the least traveled of the group. his family never took vacations when he was growing up, so the furthest he's been from home is just a state or two, and even then it was just for work and not leisure

takes up as much space as humanly possible, stretching his legs, spreading his elbows wide, etc. if the person sitting next to him tries to ask for a bit more space, he puts on headphones after the fact then pretends he doesn't hear them

definitely the type to glare at the mother of a crying baby in hopes of making her feel embarrassed or ashamed

anya

super forgetful and cannot remember if she packed toiletries or not. oh god, what about socks? did she pack socks ??? ends up spending $50 on various airport-priced items just in case

lowkey really scared of flying. she's done it tons of times before but still white-knuckle clenches the armrests during takeoff

brings lots of books. this is a great time for her to catch up on the reading she's been putting off with all of her work and schooling

never gets to reading said books, and instead sleeps like a log the whole trip. she's tired !!

swansea

was the only person ready in time when curly came around to pick everyone up. like, standing outside on the porch, bags at his feet ready

waits 20 minutes in line for coffee, but when he gets to the front and sees that a 12oz black drip is $5 he turns around and walks away. complains about airport prices for the next few hours, talking about "highway robbery" until they're finally boarded

"remember to pop your ears, you'll get a headache if you don't"

aisle seat. NEEDS an aisle seat. if the ticket curly bought him isn't in the aisle, he'll shamelessly ask other passengers to switch with him. he likes the extra leg room and ease of access to the bathroom

daisuke

makes the metal detector go off multiple times. "oops, forgot my belt!" BEEP "oh, man, that's probably my keys, sorry." BEEP "oh shit, my phone!" BEEP "waitwaitwait hold on hold on—"

his goal is to be that one person you see in passing at the airport that is just the most beautiful stranger you've ever seen. his hair? styled. his skin? dewy. his fit? fun, colorful, and literally insane for the setting. he dresses to impress!

checking out all the shops and food options before boarding, just straight wandering off without saying anything. comes back 20 min later with a keychain that says "I LEFT MY ❤️ AT ______ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT" because he thinks its funny as fuck

insists he take the window seat but keeps the curtain closed the entire flight because the sun is casting a glare on his handheld

--

THANK UUUU for your request, I hope this is sufficient! if anyone else has any requests; my asks are open !! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

[strang3lov3]

Underfoot

You get off on Roman's shoe.

Tags - dom!roman, smut, rough sex, gross sex, shoe humping/grinding, shoe licking, humiliation, degradation, masturbation, cum eating, biting, hitting, kicking, a sprinkling of ass play, nipple biting, dacryphilia, no aftercare we die like men, sex as sh, manipulative romey, bully romey calls you all sorts of nasty things, oneshot. Idk. believe it or not this is consensual. romey’s all fucknutty, reader has self esteem issues.  A/N - this one’s an acquired taste, i think. it made me squirm as i wrote it lol. This is a one shot and can be read alone buuuuut in my mind it works as a continuation of tear you apart. Thank you @cum-a-calla for holding my hand and @endlessthxxghts for betaing you sick fucks that i hold so dearly in my heart!

“You again, huh?” 

Roman’s lips curl into an amused smirk. He licks them as his eyes lazily scan down the length of your body, tracing the long, curved lines of your breasts and waist and hips. You pick at your nails and shift your weight between your two feet, a nervous tick. He loves that tick. “Yeah,” you mutter reluctantly. “Hi.” 

Roman grins. “Hi,” he says, and something about his voice mocks you. He’s good at that. Making you feel uncertain and squirm uncomfortably without saying much of anything. It’s all in the way he looks at you, how he smiles. You know it when you see it. It’s just him. 

You know what you’re here for, the same thing you always want when you visit him like this. The pain that walks the line between good hurt and bad hurt, the pleasure and the agony. That specific violence you crave, only from Roman’s hands. All that ache inside releases with the way he hits you hard enough to bruise, blood rushing to the surface. The drawing of your blood, skin burning in that horrible way that only he can ignite. Only Roman can scratch that itch, satisfy your raw, instinctive need to be hurt by him. 

It’s that strange intimacy, too. The way bodies connect, that vulnerable proximity that comes with breath shared, the faintest bit of tenderness that hangs through the air even when it’s wrapped in something darker. Your special little arrangement that only makes sense between the two of you. But it works, right?

The room is dark, lit only by lamps. It’s late and everyone’s gone home - should have, at least. But Roman, Roman’s still here. Lying on his stupid gray couch as if he was waiting for you, almost like he knew you’d be here. He probably did, honestly, how he knows you so well. In ways you don’t even know yourself. You wonder what tipped him off, what about you today told him that you’d show up for him to satisfy your shared, twisted craving. You could ask, but he’d never tell you. 

“Was wondering how long you’d make it without it,” Roman says, voice dripping with that smug superiority. “My little slut. Slut for pain,” he smirks.

Roman stretches then, neck craning over the armrest, back arching in a languid movement as he groans. You watch him, caught in the strange, raw beauty of the way he exists - so profoundly human, the folds in the fabric of his shirt shifting with his breaths. He looks so lovely like this, Like someone could love him. You could, honestly. Would be nothing new for you, the moth drawn to the flame. “Well, c’mon, then,” he snaps, the sharp command cutting through the quietness. “Quickly.”  

You know the rules. You’re naked and he is not. Never is. As you take off each of your garments, baring yourself completely to him, Roman unbuckles his belt and only pushes his pants just enough down his thighs. He does this just to fuck with you, twist the knife a little as he knows how badly you want to feel his skin on your skin, or the full weight of him on top of you. You want that, don’t you? Will you ever admit it?

You’ll only ever get fragments of Roman, scraps tossed at you like you’re a dog begging under the table. Enough of him to tide you over for the moment, never satisfying you fully. 

Roman spits into his palm before reaching for his cock, working it to its full length. “Fuck yourself first,” he says, voice flat, dismissive. “I’m really not in the mood to hear you bitching and moaning when it hurts, so. Do what you need to. It’s kinda supposed to hurt anyway, y’know. Guess you can add this to the list of favors I’ve done for you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

With two fingers, you trace your seam, already starting to drip with arousal and you hate yourself for it.

“Ah-ah. One finger. One. C’mon, you know better.”

Roman’s done this before. He likes the show of you fucking yourself with just one finger, knowing it’s not enough to prepare you for his cock. It doesn’t even do much to get you wet, really. It’s just another way for him to humiliate you or something, no real desire behind it. It’s all control, making you rub salt in your own wound. 

You push a single digit past your lips and slide it through your slick folds, circling your clit just once  “In,” Roman instructs, and you push your finger inside yourself, feeling your hot, throbbing insides, “And out,” Roman says, voice still irritatingly casual, like he’s watching a performance. But he is, isn’t he?

Roman squints slightly, eyes narrowing as he watches you fuck yourself, a lazy smile curlling at the corner of his lips. He continues to fuck his fist, all lazy and slow, like he’s bored, couldn’t give a shit. 

“Yeah, like that, sweetheart. Think that’s enough? That good?”

“I-”

“Changed my mind, I don’t care,” Roman interrupts with his tone clipped, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Just shut up and come here.” 

He sits up and slaps his thigh twice in invitation - or command, really - before reclining back against the couch, settling in as he folds his arms behind his head.

You hesitate for a moment, then move toward him, straddling his lap as his eyes flick over you. You grip his toned shoulders instinctively as you steady yourself. You reach between your bodies and touch the head of his cock, wet with his sticky precum, and line him up with your entrance. “Yep, like that. Down you fuckin’ go,” he says, hands finding your hips as he takes the liberty to force you down with a firm push. The sting is immediate and sharp, and you inhale slowly, breath catching in your throat as your eyes squeeze shut. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You let out a long exhale to match. 

“Is that a new coping mechanism or something, huh?” Roman mocks. He shifts beneath you, adjusting so that he’s buried inside you completely, his smirk never faltering. “No, no, I’m kidding. That’s good, you know. Healthy.”

You hold onto the back of the couch, knowing better than to hold onto Roman. Can’t get too friendly, he says. He’s almost maniacal in this way, how he keeps you isolated while being inside you. Minimal contact. Everything he does, he does to you. You’re a vessel, he tells you. A fleshlight with a head attached. 

“Hey, right here. Focus right here for a second,” Roman grabs your jaw, digging his thumb and forefinger into the hollows of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh against your molars. “You remember the rules, right, sweetheart? You don’t get to cum on my cock, yeah?” Your skin tickles as Roman pushes some hair out of your eyes, the action starkly tender in comparison to the harsh way he holds your face. 

You nod quickly. “And you remember why?” he adds.

“I don’t deserve to,” you answer through your teeth, voice all muffled with the effort it takes to get the words out. Your jaw aches under his grip, and you remain obedient.

Roman tilts his head. “Repeat it,” he demands, tone low and unyielding.

“I don’t deserve it.” The words feel heavier this time and tears begin to blur your vision, stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“Yeah, good. Good girl. Took you long enough to remember, though that’s how it always goes with dumb sluts like you, huh? Always all stupid and fuck drunk. I know you can’t help it,” he murmurs, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Whatever. Just fuckin’ move.” 

You move yourself up on Roman’s cock almost all the way, then sink back down again. It takes you a minute to build a pace but Roman demonstrates patience, surprisingly. The fullness of his cock inside you, the ache it brings. 

“I hate you,” Roman whispers. “Do you have any idea how much I fucking hate you?” Without allowing you to answer, he takes control then, like he’s unable to help himself. He bounces you hard and fast, your ass hitting the top of his firm thighs with each pass. His eyes are dark and wild as he watches your body move, all that rippling, moving flesh just for him. “I’d even bet I hate you more than you hate yourself. How about that?”

Roman grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head to the side harshly, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your neck, causing an involuntary whine to escape your throat. He bites your shoulder, growling as he pounds into you. “Hey. Does it hurt yet?” he mumbles, squeezing his jaw even tighter, breaking your tender skin with his sharp canine teeth. 

“Yeah,” you whimper, keeping your eyes tightly closed to fight back tears. In truth, you love the release that comes when he makes you cry. But it’s the game, you know? How long can you hold out, how long until he breaks you?

“Yeah, good,” he grunts. “How about this one, then? Tell me, scale of one to ten.” Roman pushes you back and lowers his head, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth before pinching it hard between his teeth, causing you to cry out. “Shhhh, shut the fuck up and take it. Fucking take it,” he growls, swatting your ass before repeating the action with your other breast. “Give me a number.” 

“Ten, fuck- oh, fuck. Ten,” you wail. 

“Damn. That bad, huh? You gonna cry?”

You shake your head, gripping the couch cushions hard enough that you could tear the upholstery, dig your fingers inside. “Mm. Wearing your big girl panties today, I see. Very cute,” he says, shifting so he’s lying back against the couch again, dragging you along with your nipple still between his teeth. “You’ll cry, just like you always do. Watch.” 

Roman slaps you across the cheek, and it’s more of a beating than a proper smack. He’s done it to you before, and you sobbed for hours when he did. Must’ve hit a nerve. He watches your reaction with a twisted smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling. You look away, biting down on your wobbling bottom lip. “Oh, man. You’re trying so very hard to hold back those tears, aren’t you? Hey–look at me.” 

You turn your head back to look at Roman, and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears. He’s so handsome and so fucking sick, and you are too. Roman looks satisfied with himself, murmuring some insult before resuming his brutal assault on your cunt. “Yeah, there it is. Cry for me.”

Your crying turns Roman on even more, makes him feel like an animal. Breaking you down like this. Not like it’s hard, but still. He relishes in the power, knowing it’s all him that does this to you. His violence. Roman’s. 

 Roman fucks you brutally, just like he always does. Hands on your ass, one slides up your waist to squeeze and grope your tits. He inches the other toward your ass, circling the tight ring of muscle with his middle finger before pushing it inside, making you feel fuller than you already do. All you can do is take it, sobbing above him as he uses you. You summon the courage to look at him, with his cheeks flushed all over, a light sheen of sweat glittering at his temples. “You’re so fucked,” he tells you. “Just–all fucked up. I think–fuck– think you’re prettier like this. Really, I mean it. C’mere, baby.”

Roman wraps his arms around you, leaving you with no choice but to hold him too. It feels…unnatural, but you relish in the closeness all the same. He changes the way he fucks you so that it’s less of a clean thrusting and more of an intense rolling of his hips, as he knows your clit is grinding against his pubic bone, his wiry hair only adding to the friction. You can’t help the moan that spills from your lips, “Oh, Roman.” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Roman groans, his cheek pressed against yours as he rocks his hips over and over into your dripping, tight pussy. He makes noises in your ear, knowing how much you love it. Kisses your throat to add insult to injury. You’re gonna come, and Roman knows it. Planned it. It’s a test, all part of the game. And look at you, falling for it. You really should know better.

It sort of takes you by surprise, that hot, sticky pleasure building in your gut. But nonetheless, it’s there. Roman’s tongue is tracing patterns on your neck and his hands hold you tightly, and you feel like you’re his. You cave, allowing yourself to touch him as your orgasm approaches. Feel the twitching veins in his neck, the muscles in his biceps tensing as he moves with you. 

Roman times it perfectly. Right when you’re about to come he pulls out of you, the sudden loss of his cock causing you to cry out in frustration. “You stupid fucking cunt. What’d I tell you, huh? What did we talk about? Get the fuck off of me. Down.”

Roman shoves you backward with brutal force and you land on that awful, rough carpet, the wind knocked from your lungs. He stands above you, cock in fist as he lifts a leg and presses it against your ribcage, dragging it down, down, down your tummy until it rests against your mound. And you can’t fucking help yourself. You rock your hips, grinding your clit against the bottom of his shoe, and Roman’s beside himself. And you, you’re not even here. You’re trying to tell yourself that this isn’t happening, you poor thing. Cute.

“Oh my god,” he laughs. “You’re gonna get yourself off on my fucking - my shoe, you fucking loser?”

You figure the picture in front of him should be enough of an answer, but it’s not. “Hey–” Roman gives you a little kick against your cunt. “Answer me, you fucking slut.” 

“Yes,” you sob, release once again approaching. Roman smiles in surprised delight, fucking his fist as he watches you writhe below him. Hair falling in front of his face, a lopsided grin with the dimples to match. He looks so tall like this, and you follow the line down his torso and his legs until all you’re looking at is his fucking shoe. The shiny black leather, the patterned socks. God. You moan his name loudly as you come, and to ruin your orgasm for his own amusement, he kicks you. And you moan louder, convulse even harder, pussy clenching around nothing. Fucking pathetic.

“Oh- fuck. Are you fucking real? I kick you and you come harder? Holy fuck,” he scoffs, squeezing his cock harder as he strokes it. “That’s fucking gross. Seriously, you are so fucking disgusting. Yeah, you should be crying. Jeeesus,” he laughs, his giggles turning into breathy moans as he rapidly pumps his fist. Roman comes then, spurting hot ropes of his come all over you - your face and your neck, your eyes, hair. Nothing that’ll be easy to clean up, of course. Roman hopes you’ll pass someone on your way home who’ll see the wreck he made of you and judge you for it worse than you judge yourself.

You’re a mess of drool, tears, and come by the end of it. Roman’s fucking drunk on power, absolutely elated with how this all turned out. Couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. You sit up then, but Roman quickly steps closer to your head, pressing the sole of his shoe against your throat and forcing you back down. “Ah-ah,” he tuts, dangling his shoe above your face before pressing the rubbery tip of the sole against your lips. “You know better than to leave a mess.”

If you enjoyed, it is MANDATORY that you drool and slobber in the comments or rb's or in my inbox. Be feral i DEMAND IT In all seriousness, your kind words mean the world to me ♡ ty for reading

Romey Tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

[purplefangirl42]

Relive the Memories

Summary: Two days at the Winter Solstice Festival, years apart.

Pairing: Silco/Reader (F)

A/N: This was written as part of a gift exchange for my friend @sirenofzaun. Love you Lauren!

Tags: Slight Angst, Established Relationship, Time Skip

AO3 Link Divider by saradika-graphics

The breeze that blew through the alley chilled you down to your bones, setting off a round of shivers that made your teeth chatter. You leaned against the wall behind you and wrapped your arms around your midsection in an attempt to trap some of the remaining body heat. You should have dressed warmer, but the thin sweater you wore was one of the only warm pieces of clothing that you had. 

Why, in Janna’s name, had you agreed to meet Silco up here?

It would have been much warmer down in the Undercity. The closeness of the walls, the hot air coming from the fissures in the ground, and even Jericho’s cooking would have been ten times better than this. Up here, everything was open and exposed. This alley was the closest thing to shelter you had been able to find while you waited for Silco to join you.

Just when you were about to give up and head back home before your fingers froze off, you heard footsteps from the other end of the alley. You turned to look and saw a lanky figure that you knew well heading in your direction. He seemed to be carrying something bulky in his arms, something you couldn’t identify from this distance.

“Kept me waiting long enough,” you accused, shaking your head at him.  “What do you have?”

“Something that I hope will help you forgive me for making you wait so long,” Silco said, lifting the large bundle. “I worked hard to get it for you, so please take that into consideration before you yell at me.”

You scowled slightly before closing the remaining distance between the two of you. Your gaze trailed up and down the thing Silco was holding, still not quite sure what it was. He lifted it higher and the bundle unfurled into its full size, nearly touching the ground.

It was a coat. A nice, long, fuzzy coat. Just looking at it made you feel a bit warmer. You reached out a hand to touch the sleeve and nearly gasped at how soft it felt. You had never gotten close to something this nice, let alone touched it. Your gaze shifted up to meet Silco’s and you tilted your head, raising your eyebrow in a questioning manner.

“Did you rob some poor Piltie lady in the street?”

Silco’s smile faltered slightly before he shook his head.

“First of all, I don’t think you can use ‘poor’ and ‘Piltie’ together in a sentence like that,” he said with a sniff. “And secondly, I acquired this for you as a gift. Worked hard to get it.”

“And by worked hard, you mean…” you started, leaving the rest of your question unspoken.

“I mean…I had Vander distract the shopkeeper while I took it off the rack and threw it out the delivery window while they weren’t looking.”

“Uh, huh,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s what I thought.”

“If you don’t want it, I can give it to Felicia or Sevika. I’m sure they’d both appreciate a new coat.”

“I didn’t say that. Just wanted to know where it came from, that’s all,” you said, stepping forward. “I appreciate your ‘work’.”

You leaned in and placed a kiss on Silco’s cheek before taking the coat from him. You pulled it on and wrapped it around yourself, instantly feeling warmer as it closed around your body. Silco seemed pleased to see you wearing it, as his grin had returned in full force.

“Thank you, Silco. Not only for the coat, but for the thought that went into acquiring it for me. I really needed something like this.”

“I know,” Silco said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around your midsection beneath the coat. “I can hear your teeth chattering everytime we go scouting together. It’s not very covert if the people we’re spying on hear that.”

You laughed softly and returned his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m trying not to freeze to death,” you said. “Now, could you please tell me why we needed to meet up here for you to give me this coat? Couldn’t we have met somewhere warmer?”

Silco stepped back from you a small amount and smiled, pulling on the lapels of the coat and closing it in front of you. He reached for your hand and started to pull you down the alley in the direction he had come from.

“It’s time to test out your new coat. We’re going to the Winter Solstice festival. I know you’ve always wanted to go and I was able to get us some tickets.”

“Did you work hard to get those too?” you asked.

“No comment.”

You laughed again as he pulled you along. Though you teased him about his methods, the thought behind the actions meant a great deal to you. He was always surprising you with gestures, both grand and small. This was just another thing on the list of surprises he had concocted for you in your time together.

When the pair of you reached the edge of the festival, you stopped short, bringing Silco to a halt as well. He turned to look at you with a questioning glance, his brows furrowed in slight concern. You stared at the sight before you in amazement, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Silco asked.

“Yes,” you said, your gaze switching from the festival to Silco, “everything is perfect.”

His concerned expression evaporated and a cheerful one took its place as you started moving again in the direction of the ticket gate. Silco gave the man at the entrance the tickets he had procured, and once you got the approval, pulled you through the gate. 

The sights inside the festival were even better than the glimpse you had gotten from the outside. Little twinkling lights on chains hung over the streets, swinging between poles covered in strands of gold and red tinsel. A mixture of savory and sweet smells drifted through the air, carried to your nostrils on the breeze that had previously sent a chill down your spine. You could even hear soft music playing from various places around you, its source unseen by you, which only seemed to add to the magic of the place.

“So, does it live up to your expectations?” Silco asked, diverting your attention away from the environment surrounding you.

“It’s even better than I thought it would be,” you said. “Thank you for bringing me here, Silco.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Silco leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple before the pair of you continued down the path to take in all the sights the festival had to offer.

The air felt just as cold as you remembered, possibly colder if you were truly being honest with yourself. You pulled the edges of your coat together to seal in the warmth and block out the cold wind. Over the years, your nice, warm coat had worn down and didn’t quite do the job it used to when it came to keeping you warm. You could never bear to part with it and acquire a new one though. Your heart wouldn’t let you.

The festival around you didn’t seem as magical as you thought it was in the past. Things didn’t sparkle like before, the music seemed out of sync, and even the smells were a bit off. It was almost as if something was missing. The key element that solidified the magic.

You hadn’t been to the festival since the day with Silco, and that had been many years ago. After he disappeared; or died as you had heard but didn’t believe; you didn’t feel it was right to experience any kind of happiness that you had attached to him without him there beside you. You felt it would taint the memories.

You couldn’t say what had brought you to the festival on this day. Something in your gut told you that you needed to go when you saw the poster on the bridge. Maybe it was a voice inside you telling you that you needed some closure. You needed to do something to end that chapter of your life and finally move on. Perhaps this was the way to do it.

As you walked between the various stalls, you thought over your memories of the last time you had been here. Of course, you hadn’t really had the money to buy anything, but it had still been fun to look at things. You had a little money this time, but no desire to make any purchases. You didn’t even truly look at the items on the tables you passed, your gaze just glancing over vague shapes and colors as you walked along.

With such an unfocused air about you, you weren’t watching where you were walking and ran into someone. You nearly lost your balance and reached out to grab the arm of the man you had collided with to steady yourself.

“My apologies, sir. I wasn’t watching where I was walking.”

Without looking at the man, face down to hide your embarrassment, you moved to walk past him when you heard a familiar voice speak your name. You halted in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of the voice.

“When I said I worked hard to get you that coat, I didn’t mean you had to wear it forever.”

You slowly turned in place to look at the man you assumed was talking to you. What you saw made you believe that you had hit your head when you ran into him before. The man standing before you was none other than Silco. Alive and present, wrapped in a coat with a large collar. He was older and looked different, most noticeable things being a large scar across one side of his face and an eye that was black and orange.

But it was still Silco.

You were at a loss for words. You probably looked like a fish, standing there staring at him with your mouth wide open. He seemed to understand that you were unable to speak and stepped towards you, holding out a hand.

“I’ll explain later. Right now, we can just relive the memories.”

You took his offered hand and let him pull you closer. The sensation of his touch seemed to right all the things that had seemed off before about the festival. The music regained its melody, the food smelled delicious again, and the lights seemed to shine even brighter than they had the first time.

The magic had returned.

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