#this means more to me than I can ever express

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

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Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

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Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

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"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even litteler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

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Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

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[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[lucygraysboy]

“my ma had once attempted to teach me when i was little, but i was too rambunctious to be able to focus on knitting for more than fifteen minutes. promise i’m a lot more patient now,” the cowboy laughs, pale blue eyes taking in the look on lucy gray’s face, hypnotized. these doe-like hues will be the death of him. all the kindness that’s buried deep inside her chest seems to be shining right through, making him feel so mushy and warm on the inside. she truly deserves the world, and he’ll do everything in his power to give it to her. “speakin’ of songs… was you singin’ a song when i first saw you? i was so exhausted and dehydrated, it’s all so blurry now but i thought i was at the gates of heaven and an angel was welcomin’ me with a song. what were you singin’ ‘bout?” he wonders out loud, just now reminded of the moment he first laid eyes on her. he was so out of it, and now he can barely tell what really happened and what’s only a figment of his imagination. “thanks for thinkin’ so. i didn’t want ‘im to be no outlaw. i wanted ‘im to have an honest job an’ a good life.” but now that joe’s gone, billy can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little too hard on the boy, expected too much of him. “always. well, except for the time i went and beat up her husband ‘cause he kept makin’ her cry, bringin’ no money home, stealin’ hers… spendin’ it all in brothels and saloons. she told me to leave ‘im be, but i couldn’t.” his pride and honor and the love he had for her wouldn’t let him. 

“yeah? good ‘cause i would never.” boss her around. he thinks that’s how it should be — men should listen to women more often, they’d benefit from that. “i’m mr. sugar bucket sweet potato, and you’re miss birdie boo little carrot,” he laughs, not caring the names make little to no sense. it’s the thought and affection that counts. “i mean, i kind of understand. if i was a goat, i wouldn’t let no strange cowboy near my udders either. i’d kick ‘im in the head.” expression softening as she touches his cheek, his heart melting into a puddle, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the way her hand feels so nice and somehow soothes the sunburn on his skin. “i’m hungry, too. it’s ‘cause of that lake. water always makes you hungry, is what i’ve noticed.” he follows her back outside, where the last rays of the setting sun have painted the porch a warm, golden hue. it’s a little more humid now, but the wind remains pleasant, lacking its bite. he lays the potatoes down on the table and takes a seat opposite to her, just so that he can admire her beautiful features in this light. if he only could paint, he’d paint her like this. “this is real nice. this table, i mean. beautiful carpentry.” he praises, but what he actually means is this, the two of them doing something so mundane together after a long, fun day, is nice. he wouldn’t mind spending every afternoon for the rest of his life doing this. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you this, but i’m a very experienced potato-peeler. it was always my job to peel ‘em when i was little,” he brags with a smile, his hands, rough and calloused moving with practiced ease, as if peeling potatoes was as natural as roping a steer to him. 

"that's exactly why i was thinkin' it'd be good to teach you." he already read her mind, she was thinking it could be useful when he sets out on his own. a shy smile spills over kind visage at being called sweet, of course she remembered. and of course each time he says another sweet thing, it flushes her in a warm sensation of love. fills that void and all the hurt that being talked down to by the preacher that has carved a hole in her chest with, a little at each time. "course i think so. poem's are beautiful. poem's are a lot like songs... and i do love writin' songs." speaking fondly, smiling affectionately. "well, for some reason i think that's cute," lucy gray laughs, the part about bossing his brother around because he wanted to take good care of him. "and at least you listened to your mother." so safe to say, she finds that cute too. putting a cute grin on her face because it's adorable he was stubborn but still so respectful to his mama. "i'm just playin' with you, billy. i don't think you would." a gentle expression softens her features as she peers up at him, after handing him his armful of vegetables. "you're a sweet potato." since they're holding potatoes, small laugh emitting.

hand reaches up to gently pat his cheek, he's so cute, he's gotta stop being that cute in personality and his eyes are too big and pure for her heart to handle. "it's best i do that, anyway. she really is picky with that. she might really try to bite you if you grab on her udders." the brunette laughs, but genuinely feels bad for shamus for being scarred by men. "i'm hungry." amusingly replying, scooping out an armful of carrots next before shutting the lid back. "alright, let's go." grabbing a pan, she leads them back out of the house and off the porch and climbs onto the picnic table's seat before dumping her vegetables on the table top and sitting the pan down. she's got a knife sitting in the middle, she goes ahead and grabs that and starts cutting.

[bomber-grl]

The Distraction I Needed

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

Word count: 2,581

-

Damian Wayne stared across the classroom, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and a faint scowl on his face. He was not happy. Not with the assignment, not with the teacher, and certainly not with the person sitting just two desks away from him.

You.

For months now, you and Damian had been engaged in a bitter academic rivalry. Whether it was the most difficult calculus problem or a history essay on ancient civilizations, you two were constantly battling for the top spot in every class. There were no alliances on the battlefield of academia. No mercy. Just pure, unadulterated competition.

Damian had, of course, figured out your secret identity. It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together. You were his enemy in every way. You were a villain– and that’s not just what he called you in his head. You had an uncanny ability to throw him off his game, whether it was with your sarcastic remarks or... well, that thing you did with your smile. You were his biggest grievance and biggest distraction.

It was infuriating.

“Damian,” you said, tilting your head with a teasing grin. “Struggling with the homework, or just busy being edgy again?”

Damian glared at you from across the room. He could practically hear your thoughts: teasing him, messing with him—like always. You weren’t a truly evil villain, not like the others. You had your own quirky way of causing chaos, and it often involved messing with him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I’m not pretending,” Damian muttered under his breath. “I’m just not wasting my time on a distraction that doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m a distraction?” you shot back, your grin widening. “That’s cute.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You're insufferable."

You laughed, not deterred by his less-than-thorny comments, “Well, you say insufferable, I say irresistible. But hey, we can agree to disagree.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, it’s ridiculous, huh?” You smirked, leaning across your desk to get closer. “Well, if it’s so ridiculous, why do you keep coming back for more?”

His face flushed and his collar suddenly seemed tighter, uncomfortably so. He huffed as he heard you distant laugh, knowing when you had won all too well.

You were a constant thorn in his side, but it wasn’t just the rivalry. You had a way of getting under his skin—flirting, teasing, and constantly making everything more complicated.

Again, Of course, he knew your secret identity. It wasn’t like you were subtle about it, after all. As V/N, you were someone he was supposed to stop. Someone he was supposed to defeat. Someone who, despite your occasional teasing, was still technically his enemy.

But that didn’t make you any less... intriguing.

After class, you sidled up to Damian by his locker, grinning as if you owned the entire hallway.

“You owe me,” you said with a cocky tone, hands on your hips. “You’re always so stiff in class. Must suck having been born with a stick up your ass, so how about I treat you to lunch?”

Damian, fully prepared to shut you down, found himself momentarily distracted by how you were standing there, your expression somehow a perfect mix of playful and dangerous. You were ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to see where this absurd interaction would lead.

“I’m not paying for your food,” he said flatly, though he didn’t move to walk away.

“A little frugal don't you think? But, I know,” you said, giving him that sly smile. “You’re coming with me, though. It’ll be fun.”

Damian glanced around—he couldn’t just walk away now. Besides, it was... lunch. What harm could it do?

-

The two of you ended up at a small café in town, the kind that you would have never guessed a high-profile heir to Wayne Enterprises would ever be seen in. But there he was, sitting across from you, pretending not to be completely distracted by your presence.

“I’ll have the usual,” you told the waiter, then turned to Damian, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should try something new. A little adventure in your otherwise dull life for once.”

Damian didn’t want to admit it, but... you had a point. He always played everything safe. He might’ve been strict through and through, but his interactions with you were anything but predictable.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, trying to hide the way he was genuinely curious about what you’d pick. “This is stupid.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you teased, leaning back in your chair, completely unbothered. “But we both know you can’t get me out of your head. Not with that look on your face.”

Damian’s eyebrow twitched as he looked away. “I’m not—” He cut himself off, realizing how stupid that sounded. “I’m not thinking about you, In fact, you’re the last thing on my mind.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, giving him that look that said you knew exactly what was going on inside his head. “Because it looks to me like you are. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Damian.”

Damian’s grip on his drink tightened. “Stop making everything... complicated.”

“Well, someone has to,” you said, tapping your fingers on the table, seemingly too pleased with the effect you had on him. “It’s too easy to mess with you, Damian. It’s fun. Deny how you feel about me but you can't deny that.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t very well admit that he was starting to wonder if you were right. Maybe he did think about you more than he wanted to. Maybe you were starting to get under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to. And maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as indifferent as he liked to think.

-

Later that night, after a very complicated altercation involving the two of you fighting side-by-side against a group of criminals (which neither of you had really expected to happen), Damian found himself alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. Sure, you were technically a villain, stealing candy from babies and all, but you actually teamed up with him for this.

It had been a mess, but a fun one. He had to admit, for a villain, you were... not bad. He thought about how, after taking down the bad guys, you’d playfully ruffled his hair, called him a "stubborn little knight," and teased him for “being too serious.”

It was honestly... kind of endearing.

But that was impossible, right?

He wasn’t supposed to like you. You were a villain. A villain. His father had warned him time and time again about those kinds of entanglements. And yet...

“He still fell for Catwoman,” Damian muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. Was he really becoming like his father? The thought made him groan in frustration. How could someone like him—someone who was so focused, so serious—even think about you like that?

“Absurd,” he muttered again, slamming his pillow down onto his bed. “I’m just being distracted. That’s all.”

-

The next day, you found him in the hallway again, as if you were always waiting around to throw him off balance.

“Ready for class?” you asked innocently, though the playful smirk tugging at your lips suggested otherwise.

Damian sighed, looking at you with the same exasperated expression as always. But this time, there was something different about the way he stared at you.

He couldn’t explain it. But for once, the rivalry—academic or otherwise—didn’t seem as important as the fact that, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as annoyed by you as he liked to pretend.

“Stop doing that,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up slightly. “You’re distracting.”

You grinned wider, eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint. “I know. But you like it, don’t you?”

Damian froze, his mind spiraling into chaos. He didn’t want to admit it, but... he didn’t have to, did he? The more you teased him, the more he realized just how impossible it all was.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning away before you could see the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

And in the back of his mind, despite every bit of logic telling him to keep away, Damian couldn't stop the thought from creeping in:

Maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous rivalry—this ridiculous teasing—wasn’t as bad as he thought.

-

It had been a week since you’d been absent from school. A whole week.

At first, Damian didn’t think much of it. Sure, he had gotten used to your teasing, your constant attempts to throw him off course, and your infuriatingly distracting presence. But no big deal, right? He could handle it. The quiet, the lack of you trying to “distract” him in class... it wasn’t like he needed you there. Not at all.

But as the days went on, something started to feel... off.

Damian found himself staring at his empty desk next to him in class. The seat that usually held you, with your smug little smile and obnoxious comments, was eerily vacant. The whole dynamic of the room felt empty. The lessons, the homework, the constant battle for first place—it was all so boring without you there. He didn’t have to think about your teasing or try to keep his cool around you anymore. And that, strangely enough, was the problem. He missed it.

He missed you. And it bugged the hell out of him.

It wasn’t like he was waiting for you to show up so you could mess with him, but... okay, maybe a little. There was something about your antics, something about how unpredictable and ridiculous you were, that had wormed its way into his heart. He never admitted it, of course, but he was more aware of it than he liked to admit. And now? Now, with you gone, there was a noticeable hole in his routine.

On the seventh day of your absence, as Damian sat at his desk, trying—unsuccessfully—to focus on an assignment, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen. Unknown number.

“Hello?” Damian answered, frowning. He didn’t trust random calls, especially when they were so cryptic.

The voice on the other end was distorted, obviously masked. “Damian Wayne. We have someone you care about. You know who they are.” There was a pause, a deep, unsettling breath before the voice continued. “If you want them back, come alone. They’re close, but not for long.”

Damian’s heart skipped. His mind immediately went to you. You were his rival, his annoyance, but—damn it—he cared about you. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He clenched his jaw. “Where are they?”

“Come find out,” the voice mocked, before hanging up.

Damian’s eyes blazed with fury. He didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing his suit and mask from the nearby closet, he donned the Robin persona, immediately gearing up for what would inevitably be a chaotic rescue mission. He wasn’t going to wait for his father, or Nightwing, or anyone. This was his fight. His responsibility. His problem.

Within minutes, he was in the Batcave, and he went straight for the Batmobile. “Damian, where are you going?” Alfred's Voice rang out, calm and collected as always.

“I’m going alone. I don’t need backup,” Damian shot back, his voice hard and unwavering.

“Master Damian—”

“I said, I don’t need backup, don’t tell anyone else where I’m headed.”

Alfred sighed, but he knew better than to argue. Damian was already out the door before he could stop him.

-

Damian arrived at the location—a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. As he stalked in, his senses went on high alert. There were too many men. Too many voices. Too much noise. But there was no sign of you yet.

“Where are they?” he demanded, voice low, as he threw one of the thugs across the room. The other men scattered, yelling in confusion. He had no patience for this.

One thug tried to come at him with a crowbar. Damian knocked him out with a swift punch to the face. He couldn’t afford to waste time with these idiots. All he cared about was getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of beating up bad guys and tossing them out of the warehouse toward the police, he spotted you, tied to a chair in the far corner of the room.

You looked beat up—bruises covering your face, your clothes torn. But you were still conscious, still... you.

“Damian…” You smiled weakly, your voice still laced with that same mischievous tone. “Well, well. If it isn’t my knight in shining armor.”

Damian’s chest tightened. “Can you stand?” he asked, trying to hide how worried he was.

You chuckled softly, even though it sounded strained. “Well, it’s not every day I get rescued by a charming vigilante. This is definitely a new look for you, Robin.” You smirked, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

Damian was fuming, both angry at the situation and relieved you were still alive. “Don’t make jokes,” he muttered, quickly cutting the ropes that bound you. “You look like you’ve been through hell, don’t torture me now as payback.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there was a flicker of gratitude in your voice. “I’ve had worse. I had to stitch a cut across my entire stomach once–”

“Stop being so difficult,” Damian snapped, not even trying to hide the concern in his tone as he helped you to your feet. “You’re lucky I even came for you.”

“Oh, don’t sound so upset, my little knight,” you teased, winking at him despite your battered state. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy the attention.”

Damian scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you,” you replied with a playful grin, ignoring how wobbly your legs were. “Come on, admit it. You’ve missed me.”

Damian’s face flushed, and he quickly averted his eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, clearly enjoying making him squirm. “You’ve probably been lonely without me. Bet the whole school feels empty without my sparkling presence.”

He shot you a look that could kill. “I’m not answering that.”

You laughed, clearly amused by the whole situation. But it wasn’t lost on you that Damian’s icy exterior was starting to crack, just a little.

As the two of you walked out of the warehouse together, Damian’s mind was whirling. His usual irritation toward you was clouded by something else—something much more complicated that he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Once you were safely away from the scene, in a more neutral space to talk, you couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So, how’s the whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ thing working out for you, Mr. ‘I’m so edgy, and oh did I mention that I’m a lone wolf’?” you asked with a smirk.

Damian shook his head, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “You’re impossible.”

But, deep down, he couldn’t help but feel... relieved that you were safe.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that like a million times” You grinned up at him, your usual playful attitude as strong as ever. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

Damian just muttered something under his breath, refusing to admit anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You were insufferable. And yet, somehow, you’d wormed your way into his heart.

[arbitrarykiwi]

omfg i think i speak for everyone when i say we need more thanos and nam gyu boyfriend content bc OHMYGOD i need them i need them to pass ME like a blunt

Passed Around

omg uhhh..... YES??!!! there's just somethin about the idea of smoking with them and then getting absolutely RUINED by both of them. you would have to pull me out of a room with them by the back of my neck like a fucking DOG!!! I NEED BOAF EM SO BAYYYYDDDDD!!!! I hope you enjoy anon!!! <3

Warnings: smut (18+), bro..I took this and fucking ran with it omg, weed smoking, sex while high, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), they both eat you out at the same time, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, recording sex (they both do it), missionary, doggy style, deep throating/ throat fucking, name calling (bitch, slut, whore) ((but they really mean it endearingly)) , facial, lil bit of cum play, spit, spanking, Thanos slaps you like once (not in a mean way), fuckeddumb! Reader, probably more, read at your own risk

If anyone comes across this that’s not familiar with my profile- first off hiiii!- second, this request bounces of a previous thangyu x reader request you can find here - it’s not needed to read it before this, just wanted to put it here if you wish to find more of my thangyu content :D

If someone asked if you were lucky, you’d say yes without a doubt in your mind. And it’s all because of your two doting boyfriends!

Thanos and Nam-gyu were admittedly like night and day, they couldn’t be more different from each other- but that’s what makes them work so well! You got the best of both worlds.

You hardly could ever spend a moment alone, they always had to be by you. If they both weren’t there, one of them was. But thankfully tonight, you have both of them at your sides. You’re sandwiched in between them on Nam-gyu’s bed. A blunt is being passed between the three of you, the room smoky and only lit by the bright colors of the TV that blares the show you guys were watching. You think you guys are on your third or fourth blunt of the night- you weren’t sure they just kept rolling anytime one was finished, and you just kept smoking them.

You’re laid back against the headboard of Nam-gyu’s bed. Your hooded eyes watching the TV with a dazed expression. The warmth of their body’s only helping to relax you further than you already are.

They’re curled around you, Thanos was to your left, he had his arm slung around you, your head on his shoulder, one of his tattooed fingers playing with your hair. He’d alternate between stroking your hair or just having his hand slung over your shoulder, going under the collar of your shirt to grab at one of your breasts- it wasn’t even sexual, he just loved the feel of your tits in his hands. It calmed him down! At least that’s what he always told you.

Nam-gyu is lying on top of your stomach, legs entangled with yours. His cold hands are under your shirt, drawing random patterns against the skin of your stomach. Your hand is in his hair, twirling the black strands around your fingers. Anytime you’d poke his head to pas him the blunt, he’d remove his hands from under your shirt to reach up and take the blunt, hit it, then pass it back to Thanos- returning his hands to under your shirt. Following in Thanos’ footsteps as he’d reach his hand up to your other breast that Thanos wasn’t occupying and copy his movements.

And that’s how you guys stay for a bit as you smoked, Thanos and Nam-gyu would occasionally have a hand on one of your tits, removing themselves from you only to hit the blunt.

You were either too high, too entranced in the show on TV or in such a calm haze by their gentle touches and presence, or a mixture of all three- but you seem to miss the look your two boyfriends give each other. It’s a silent confirmation that they both want the same thing-you. There’s a hungry glint in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. Thanos nods, his grin widening as he nudges you with his arm that’s skin around your shoulder.

Thanos takes a long drag, sucking in the smoke, and holding it in for a moment. You think he’s trying to show you something, why else would he get your attention by nudging you like that? You also feel Nam-gyu twist his head against your stomach. You look down to find his chin resting against your flesh, looking up at you with red tinted eyes and a hazy smile, “Hi my baby.” You coo quickly, with a confused giggle, hand running over his hair making sure to acknowledge him- god forbid you give Thanos more attention than Nam-gyu.

You’re then quickly turning your face back to Thanos, trying to see what he wanted to show you. You watch him as he stares at you with his hooded eyes. He lets his breath go, the yellow-ish smoke is billowing out of his mouth. Your eyes widen, “ooohhh! It’s yellow, you guys picked up really good shit this time.” You praise, figuring that’s that he wanted to show you. But it wasn’t.

They both chuckle, Thanos passes the blunt to Nam-gyu, reaching over you and skipping your turn in the rotation completely. You’re pulled out of your stoned haze as you whip your head to look at Thanos accusatorially. “What the fuck?! You skipped me.” You pout looking over to Nam-gyu who smirks at you and hits the blunt, staring at you mockingly from his spot against your stomach.

The purple haired man to your left just laughs, leaning in and beginning to trail his nose up your neck, inhaling your scent. His hand, now free from the blunt runs up your stomach, over your chest, and up your neck to your jaw, turning your face back to him. “You don’t need to be hittin’ that Señorita, you’re gonna be busy.” He mumbles, a wicked grin on his face as he brings you closer to him, capturing your lips in his.

You sigh into it, it’s slow and full of tongue. You always hate how easily they can make you melt. Your lips move in sync, Thanos’ tattooed hands come to cup the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting you for all you’re worth.

You let out a surprised sound that was akin to a squeak as from your right side, Nam-gyu’s hands are all over you, gripping at your waist as he pushes your shirt up to begin leaving open mouthed kisses on your stomach, the blunt hanging loosely between his fingers as he pushes himself upwards to begin to kiss along your neck as you continue kissing his purple haired counterpart part. Thanos is suddenly pulling away from the kiss, biting your bottom lip as he retreats. His hands push your face to your right and immediately Nam-gyu’s lips are on yours.

Any time they do something like this, pushing you or guiding you to the other when they’re finished- truly sharing you rather than competing with each other- it has you spinning. The contrast between Thanos’ desperate, rough kiss to Nam-gyu’s forceful and needy one already has you feeling hot and bothered.

Nam-gyu always kisses you so fervently, like you’re a dream that he never wants to wake up from. His hands are working up your waist to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. Thanos hisses, feeling his cock harden as he watches you two make out, gritting his teeth and drawing in a shaky breath when he sees one of Nam-gyu’s hands remove itself from under your shirt and come up to grip at your throat as he pulls away from the kiss.

It’s an instant reaction when his grip tightens on your neck, you whine out desperately, eyebrows upturning and pupils blowing wide. You can hear the both of them chuckle. Nam-gyu is pulling you up, guiding you by your throat to a kneeling position. Thanos situates himself behind you, hands reaching up under your shirt, immediately beginning to pull at your perky nipples. Thankfully, you hardly ever wore a bra when you were with them- why would you? It just gets in the way more often than not.

“See… all it takes is me choking her and she gets so worked up f’us. ‘S like a lil on switch ain’t it?” Nam-gyu chides with a mocking tone, punctuating his words by squeezing your throat harder. It causes you to bite your lip, your body temperature sky rocketing, you can feel your pussy begin to throb. The pressure that’s added to your neck causes you to arch back into Thanos, pressing your ass back into him.

You hear Thanos chuckle darkly as he hooks his chin over one of your shoulders his hands dropping from your breasts to your hips, his fingers slipping below the waist band of your shorts- which were actually a pair of Nam-gyu’s boxers- to feel you against his palms entirely- he honestly wished you weren’t even wearing those stupid fucking boxers, they just get in the way. He’s pulling your ass back onto his hardening cock, “I know right…” he hums back in response to Nam-gyu who’s still using one hand to hold your throat while the other works to roughly grope at your breasts.

Thanos begins to grind his erection on your ass, you can only begin to breath heavier when you feel the thick heat of his cock begin to grow against your back. “Cute little thing just loves being man handled…” Thanos mocks into your ear. “Bet she’s already dripping just by us fondling her a bit, so easy…” he adds, you can hear the mocking pout in his voice although you can’t see his face.

Nam-gyu is staring at you like you’re an ancient greek statue of a long forgotten goddess that he wants to devote himself to and devour, and you can only imagine that Thanos facial expression is similar. “Of course she is…” Nam-gyu hums, his hand pulls away from your breast, pulling your nipple with as he does.

You bite down on your bottom lip harder, your eyes squeeze shut and you let out a soft moan. It makes both of them become infinitely harder. As Nam-gyu releases your nipple, Thanos is leaning further over your shoulder. They both watch hungrily as the flesh bounces back to your chest, jiggling a bit before settling back into place. “Why don’t you check? Check to see how wet her slutty pussy is just from us barely messin’ with her.” Thanos directs at Nam-gyu.

Thanos is pulling away quickly working to pull your (his) shirt over your head. When the shirt’s is thrown off to the side, Thanos’ hand replaces Nam-gyu’s on your throat, pulling you back into him. His mouth is on your neck, teeth biting into the flesh. His other tattooed hand is attaching to the swell of your breasts his thumb rubbing over your nipples before pinching.

At the same time one of Nam-gyu’s hands is gripping at your hip and the other is slipping his hand down into the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing. His hand molds to your pussy, letting out a low growl when he feels how wet you’re becoming.

“She’s fucking soaked…” he directs towards Thanos, you can tell by his voice that with his discovery, a new level of hunger is reached within the dark haired male. Nam-gyu moves his hand on your hip reaches up and pulls one of Thanos’ hand off your breasts, “outta my way.” He grumbles before his mouth is around your nipple.

Thanos is behind you, grumbling under his breath, his cock rutting into your back harder, “fuckin’ selfish.” He scolds Nam-gyu. He releases his hand on your throat to drop it to the breast that his counterpart wasn’t occupying, “yer already playin with her pussy, bro, c’mon.” He continues. It only makes your chest heave faster. Something about them fighting over you always made your heart and pussy flutter.

Nam-gyu’s mouth always was, and currently is relentless. He’s sucking your nipple into his mouth and moaning into your flesh like he’s in heaven. His fingers are practically finger painting with your arousal, smearing the syrupy liquid that is gushing out of you around your cunt and thighs. “Mhm…” Nam-gyu responds, mouth still attached to your breast. He pulls off with a wet pop, looking up to Thanos who was still leaning over your shoulder “And she’s soooo fuckin’ wet dude…such a messy fuckin’ pussy.” Nam-gyu teases, knowing it would only piss Thanos off that he wasn’t tasting or feeling your sweet cunt like Nam-gyu was.

Nam-gyu’s fingers worked magic, playing with your folds and coaxing more and more sweet and wetness to drip out of your cunt. He’s practically massaging your pussy, moaning into your tits as he savors the soft feeling of your soaking cunt on his fingers. You’re a panting mess against Thanos, soft moans beginning to slip through your lips.

“Oh fuck you…” Thanos seethes at Nam-gyu, taking his irritation out on you- squeezing harder at your breast and grinding his hard cock against your ass. “I can’t wait any longer. I needa taste ‘er.” Thanos growls, lightly shoving you forward into Nam-gyu as he begins to move out from behind you, scooting on his knees around the bed. “Finally somethin’ we agree on.” Nam-gyu scoffs with a laugh.

It’s a skillfully rehearsed set of movements, one they’ve done hundreds of times. Thanos pushes you forward, Nam-gyu pulls you into him, removing his hand out of the boxers you wore and pulling them down your thighs. The boxers you wore are thrown haphazardly across the room. The raven haired male is then pushing you back onto the bed, your head hits the pillows. Thanos soon joins Nam-gyu in front of you.

They each take one of your ankles in their hands. Their hands mirror each other as they slide down your legs. At this point you know you’re fucking drenched, it’s embarrassing really. And as they look down at you like two wolves ready to pounce on a fawn you’re whimpering eyes frantically darting between the two, not being able to figure out where to focus.

They’re pushing your thighs open, spreading you wide, your glistening cunt on full display for them. “Oh-ho…” Thanos chuckles, “you were right, pretty thing’s dripping for us..” his hand comes to cup your pussy, grinding his palm into your clit. He exhilerated by your sloppy state, your thighs and pubic bone covered in your own arousal thanks to Nam-gyu’s earlier work. “‘Gyu did a good job huh? His fingers feel good?” Thanos muses down to you, his tattooed middle finger beginning to trace around the outside of your cunt. You twitch against his hand, the way your pussy clenches with the minimal attention makes the both of him draw in sharp breaths.

“Mhm..” you whine out in response to Thanos your eyes trained on him as you bite your lip and nod, your hips canting up into his touch trying to get him to touch where you needed it. Your eyes dart over to Nam-gyu who’s licking his lips, hand gripping at your one of your inner thighs, thumb pulling your cunt open for them to see you better. “Made me feel so good.” You direct towards Nam-gyu. His yes look up to you, a soft smile spreading across his lips at the praise- in an instant the hungry, devious grin is back.

They seem to think the same thing, they’re both laying down on the bed, their faces becoming level with your cunt. Nam-gyu is the first to touch you again, his hand coming up to rest on your pubic bone, hand turning down, his thumb and pointer finger coming to spread you nice ‘n wide. It’s a beautiful sight, pretty pink cunt just drooling milky white arousal that spills down to your ass.

“Fucking Christ….” Thanos says with a wide grin, the hand around your thigh gripping harder, he’s looking at your pussy like it’s the million dollar jackpot at the casino or a free ounce of weed. “Perfect fucking cunt..” Nam-gyu muses, his eyes staring at your pussy hungrily, his fingers pinching together slightly causing you to whimper and arch into his touch.

“You needy, baby? Wan’ us to eat your pretty ‘lil pussy?” Thanos asks, you let out a breathless laugh, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look down at the perfect view below you. “F-fuck yes. P-please I need it. Need both of you…” You beg them desperately. They seem to look at each other for a moment before either agreeing your begging was good enough or they just couldn’t wait any longer.

The feeling of both their tongues meeting your cunt at the same time is exhilarating. They’ve done it plenty of times before but you’ve never gotten used to it. They both watch you out differently, leaving you with two different patterns lapping greedily at your pussy. Your hands are gripping the sheets of the bed beside you in a white-knuckled grip. The obscene sounds of your wet pussy and they’re slurping is sure to be heard through the walls of nam-gyu’s apartment.

They’re messy, unforgiving. Their tongues intertwine on top of your clit. Both pairs of lips wrapping around the bud. You can tell they’re just as fucked out as you are, their eyes peer up at you from between your legs, taking in every one of your reactions. It’s a view you always will think about, both of their faces buried deep in your cunt, noses bumping against your clit in alternate movements.

You’re crying out, stomach tensing. Fighting your head from falling back in ecstasy on the pillows, you really don’t want to look away from the two men who are slurping at your messy cunt like your arousal is the elixir of life. “H-holy f-fuck…” you gasp out, hips grinding up into their mouths. You can feel the vibrations of their laughs, it only sends more shocks of pleasure through your body. Thanos pulls away, leaning his face against your thigh, Nam-gyu wastes no time to fill in his place, his mouth engulfing you- tongue thrusting into your tight head.

“Mhm…” Thanos coos at you, his eyes trained on the way Nam-gyu messily tongue fucks you. “So fuckin messy…” he mocks, “you hear how loud your pussy is? Needed us so bad, huh, princess?” Thanos asks, Nam-gyu’s eyes open again and lock with yours, wanting to see your reaction. Your eyebrows are upturned, your pillowy lips wet and swollen, heaving breaths causing your breasts to jiggle with each exhale. “F-fuck ohmygod ‘Gyu..” you cry out, “y-yes needed you two so fuck- so fucking bad.” You finish.

Thanos is leaning back down, shoving Nam-Gyu to the side so he can get his own fill. Thanos is always so much more erratic than Nam-gyu. While Nam-Gyu eats you out like a dog lapping at water on a hot day, long, languid, deep strokes of his tongue trying to savor the taste of you, Thanos eats your cunt like a man starved. It’s fast paced, messy, and he’s all over you. He’s even pulling back to spit on your puffy cunt before going back in for seconds

Nam-gyu watches Thanos, his face wet by your arousal, “Such a whore…” he says, even with the harsh pet name, there’s an odd softness to his voice, he’s praising you. His hand reaching up to your face, his middle and ring finger pulling at your bottom lip. You knew what to do, your lips part sucking in his fingers. “Mhm…” he says nodding at you as your tongue swirls around his digits, the pads of his fingers pushing at your tongue, “so good f’us, smart girl knows what she needs to do….” He adds.

The purple haired rapper is pulling away from your cunt, your clit sucked into his lips as he does. You’re crying around Nam-Gyu’s fingers, eyes rolling back at the wet ‘pop’ that sounds through the room as Thanos releases your clit. “We’ve trained her well.” He mumbles against your pussy. You’re shaking against the bed, whining around Nam-gyu’s fingers. His fingers pull themselves from your mouth, wet with your saliva. He’s quickly settling back down next to Thanos, his fingers beginning to play with your puffy cunt. Your head kicks back onto the pillow as you moan out a mix of both their names.

You can hear Thanos chuckle darkly and you’re weakly pulling your head off the pillow to look down. They both have their cheeks rested against one of your thighs, just staring at the way your cunt continuously gushes thick streams of your arousal, clenching impatiently. “Ya’ didn’t even have to wet your fingers…she’s already so fuckin wet…” Thanos hisses through grit teeth, like your pussy is the most delicious sight he could ever lay his eyes upon. “Just wanted your fingers in her throat you pervert.” He laughs, looking over to Nam-gyu with a wide grin.

“Can you blame me? You seen the way she looks at you with your cock shoved down her throat, ‘s the same look.” Nam-gyu scoffs, his fingers teasing your entrance. You’re trying to grind down into his fingers, wanting your cunt to finally be full but the weight of their heads on your thighs keeps you from moving.

They either seem to have come to the conclusion they teased you enough or have waited long enough because in a second Nam-gyu’s fingers are deep within your spongy walls and both their tongues were back on your clit. Your back arches off the bed, your head tilting heavenward as you let out a choked sob. They don’t ease you into it, no they’ve been fucking you- ruining you- for well over a year now they know you can take it. And with the weed coursing through their system their mind is only set on one thing and that is feeling you, tasting you, as you cum on their tongues.

It’s so fucking filthy, the sounds that come from in between your legs only turn you on more. Nam-gyu’s fingers are pistoning into your cunt, scissoring themselves inside you and reaching places you know your fingers never could. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly where to curl his fingers to brush against that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Nam-gyu pulls away from your cunt, his fingers never ceasing. Thanos wastes no time in shifting over the slightest bit to fully coat your throbbing clit with the soft, wet warmth of his tongue.

“Ya’ know how much of a slut you are?” Nam-gyu hums, dark eyes watching as his fingers disappear into your leaking hole, pushing out more of your arousal onto the bed and observing how Thanos’ lips suck on your clit, tongue playing with it in swiveling motions. “Letting two men eat your depraved cunt…” The black haired male chides. Your eyebrows are upturned, your wide eyes looking at him with a fucked out haze to them. You’re just nodding alone to his words dumbly, hips grinding down on his fingers as you let out choked ‘uh-huh!’s. “And you just love it.” His eyebrow quirks up when he feels you tighten at his words, “yeeeahhh you do…can feel you squeezing me pretty girl.” He muses, beginning to curl his fingers upward in a devine, fast paced curling motion that makes the wet ‘schlick, schlick, schlick” sound that comes from your cunt become even louder.

Thanos chuckled against your cunt, pulling off of you. Nam-gyu immediately takes his place, his fingers and mouth working at your raw pussy desperate to have you cum on his tongue. Thanos is sitting up and leaning over you, laughing when he sees how your head is tilted back and your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. He grips your chin, hard, yanking you to face him. Your eyes shoot open to look at him, your body jerking upwards with every harsh thrust of Nam-Gyu’s fingers. “Ohhhh….” Thanos lets out in a low hum, “you’re close aren’t you? Gonna cum f’us?” He asks.

You’re babbling incoherently at this point, the way Nam-gyu is sucking at your cunt as his fingers burry themselves deep in your twitching walls makes you not be able to even think straight. Thanos is laughing, his hand coming up to connect with the side of your face in a harsh slap. It wasn’t hard, it was enough to sting, and fuck, did it make your cunt throb. You can tell Nam-gyu feels it because he scoffs against your pussy, letting out a muffled ‘filthy fuckin slut’ against your puffy folds when he feels you tighten around his fingers when you’re slapped.

Thanos hand goes back to gripping your chin after the slap, shaking your head around in a degrading manner “Answer me sweetheart. We haven’t even fucked ya’ yet and you’re already acting like a brainless whore. C’mon now, tell ‘Gyu how good he’s doin’, gonna make you cum huh?” The purple haired man growls.

“F-fuck y-yes! Feels, oh shit, feels so fucking good, ‘m g-gonna, ohmygod.” Your eyes are fluttering back as the heat in your lower stomach grows almost painful, your words cut off by choked sobs, Thanos is reaching his free hand down to push on your lower stomach, a high-pitched squeal falling out of your lips as you’re hurled towards your orgasm.

“O-oh fuck! ‘m cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” Your words are slurred and babbled, your eyes screwing shut as you’re cumming hard. You can hear the wet gush of your cunt spraying down Nam-Gyu’s hand, drenching the sheets below you, and he’s drinking you up for all your worth, practically sucking your orgasm out of you.

“Oho! There you go! Fuck you’re makin such a mess.” Thanos praises, eyes never straying from the view of you soaking Nam-gyu’s face. You’re thrashing against the bed, hips rutting into his face as he greedily swallows your cum. You have to reach a hand up and push at his head, his lips still wrapped around your clit even after your orgasm is over. When he pulls his face up you whine breathlessly- he’s covered. His face, neck, and chest are soaked with droplets of your arousal.

“Could fuckin’ eat your sweet pussy all day..” Nam-gyu says breathlessly as his dark eyes look down to see the mess he’s made of you. Your cunt is raw and puffy, coated in your arousal and cream they worked out of you. Nam-gyu is reaching into his back pocket with one hand and using the other to spread you open so he can see your pretty pussy entirely. His and comes back around, pulling out his phone and opening the camera to take a couple pictures of his artwork. You’re whining in protest- though you really love when they do that, you know they’re only ever shared between the two of them. Both of them have albums of pictures of you once they’re through with you- they have to have things to look at if you’re not around!!

You’re pretty sure they plan out every time they’re going to fuck you. It’s like they meet before and type out an itinerary of who gets to fuck your cunt when and who’s taking your throat. Like they plan a play by play so when it comes down to it they’re not wasting any time.

You see Nam-gyu typing and then hear Thanos phone go off a moment later. They’re both maneuvering back down to your cunt, tongues going back and enveloping your pussy. You cry out, entirely overstimulated at the moment but they have to clean you up!!

They’re pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and saliva, tongues hanging out like dogs panting. Thanos is looking at your fucked out form when Nam-gyu goes back in for seconds (thirds.), his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue working against it. You’re moaning out broken syllables of their names, hips grinding against his tongue. Thanos looks down annoyed at Nam-gyu, obviously straying from whatever plan they had made up.

Thanos’ painted nails are tangling themselves into Nam-gyu’s hair, yanking him off your cunt roughly. You and the male between your thighs let out echoing moans. “Quit being greedy.” He scolds at Nam-gyu,

You’re still coming down from your orgasm as they bicker, you don’t think you could ever get used to the both of them eating you out at once. Your cunt is still leaking syrupy cum, a thick trail of the creamy arousal beginning to drop down to your ass. Nam-gyu fights against Thanos’ hold to drop back down and begin devouring the rest of your cum. He’s moaning in your pussy, the taste of your orgasm one of his worst addictions, he could never get enough and always needed a fix. Thank god you were a timely dealer!

He’s pulling away from your cunt and smirking, “Couldn’t let it go to waste, bro…’s a delicacy.” Nam-Gyu says turning back to Thanos with a shit eating grin. In no time, They’re crawing off the bed, ridding themselves of their pants and boxers, beginning to maneuver you expertly. Nam-gyu grabs a hold of your ankles, spinning you horizontally across the bed. Thanos is then gripping your wrists and pulling you towards him, your head hanging off the bed.

You’re looking at him upside down as his tattooed hand begins to fist his hard cock over your face, his other hand reaching down to slap one of your breasts sharply then grabbing at the flesh. You’re whining out looking up at him, his grin is nearly sadistic as you know what’s about to come next.

Since this arrangement has been going on for a long while now, they’ve come to have favorite positions for both of them to use you in. It was a long and arduous task to try and find the happy neutral ground. Hey! No one ever said having two boyfriends was easy work.

This position happened to be one they compromised on. Thanos loved seeing the imprint of his cock sliding in and out of your throat, he loved being able to choke you. And Nam-gyu loved nothing more than to be able to see your cunt stretched out around your cock and your tits bounce as he fucked you. And you? Well, you were getting absolutely destroyed by them either way so you were just happy they found something that they didn’t have to fight over.

You feel the bed shift under the weight of Nam-gyu crawling back onto the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs, hands reaching down to your hips to lift you up, your legs resting limply over his hips. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock against your stomach. His ring clad hands are running up and down your thighs.

“Been waiting for this all day…could never get enough of this tight cunt…” Nam-gyu growls, looking up to Thanos as he nods in agreement, his hips beginning to move back and forth to grind his cock in the mess that was spread around your cunt and pubic bone. The underside of his dick catching your clit with each motion.

“Best pussy and mouth out there, aren’t we lucky….” Thanos praises, eyes flicking down to you. He quirks up an amused eyebrow when he sees your desperate state, your mouth hung open nice and wide, already waiting for his cock. He releases your breast from his grip, Nam-gyu’s hands now sliding up your stomach to replace them.

Thanos’ hand that isn’t occupied by fisting his cock runs up to your neck, dragging a squeezed hand up the expanse of your throat. “What a greedy slut you are, beautiful..” Thanos mocks, “Just had two men devour your sloppy pussy and now you just can’t wait to get stuffed…”

“Wouldn’t be nice to keep her waiting, would it?” Nam-gyu hums, hand coming to splay itself on your pubic bone, thumb reaching down to flick at your clit. You can feel him begin to rub the leaking tip of his cock between your folds, a breathy falling from your lips.

“Yeahhh…” Thanos grins watching as Nam-gyu teases your cunt, “Wants it bad doesn’t she…” he continues, his thumb pinching at your pert nipple as he lowers his hefty cock to your face, you know exactly what to do. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses down his thick shaft, lathing your tongue over the hot skin as you twitch against Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu pushes the tip of his bulbous cock-head into your sopping walls, it’s a stretch you don’t think you could ever be prepared for no matter how many times he’s fucked you. You let out a cracked whine, the blissful fullness of his cock entering you being quickly ripped away as he pulls back out. Maybe it’s some kind of obscure fetish he had, but he loved just sinking his fat cock-head into your tight cunt, watching as you greedily suck him in and consume his tip in a wet, sopping warmth. He’s edging himself while edging you.

Thanos laughs as you moan out, head falling further off the bed as you throw it back in pleasure. “So mean…” he directs at the raven haired man who fucks you shallowly, “She jus’ wants to be stuffed and you’re teasing her..” Thanos says, you can tell he really doesn’t feel bad for you, in fact he likes watching as Nam-gyu rocks into your cunt, he loves being able to see your face twist into a contorted expression of bliss.

“‘M not stopping you from fucking her slutty mouth..fill ‘er up if she’s wants to be stuffed so bad..” Nam-gyu grunts, pulling all the way out and slapping his thick cock against your weeping cunt with a wet ‘plap plap plap’ before beginning to sink back into you.

And only a few moments later, stuffed you are. Thanos is balls deep in your throat, heavy balls hanging over your eyes as he slides his cock in and out of your tight throat. Your face, his balls, and anything in the vicinity is covered in your spit. It’s sloppy. Debauched. Hes thrusting into your throat without abandon, one of his hands coming down to caress your throat feeling the bulge of his thick cock slide down your esophagus. You’re helplessly gagging and moaning around him, fountains of spit bubbling out of your throat- making it all the more sloppy which only urges Thanos to fuck your throat harder. “Takin me so well…letting me use this fuckin’ throat.” He growls, “Can feel how fuckin’ deep I am ohmygod…” he’s hissing, his words punctuated by him grabbing your throat harder, his teeth clenched.

Nam-gyu finally sinks fully into you, wasting no time to begin thrusting into your sopping cunt. It’s damn near violent, every thrust jolting you forward, shoving Thanos’ cock deeper into your throat. All you can do is let out choked muffled moans. “‘Gyu makin’ you feel good, sweetheart?”

You let out a muffled ‘mhm! mhm!” The vibrations making Thanos stiffen. His hand grips harder at your throat, “easy, girl..fuck!…Fuckin do that and I’ll cum too quick” Thanos is growling, beginning to choke you with his hand as his cock stuffs your throat.

Between your legs Nam-gyu’s hips jackhammer into yours at a damn near evil pace. Your pussy is stretched impossibly wide, yet you still grip his thick length with a tightness that could fool him into thinking he’s never ruined your sweet cunt before. It’s one of the reasons he can never get enough. Anytime he draws his hips back a streak of milky-white coats his cock, forming a ring as the base of his dick anytime he slams back into you. He reaches so deep, filling your cunt until you’re moaning out mindlessly, though your sounds come out choked and garbled around Thanos’ cock that’s shoved in your mouth.

Thanos’ hand was still on your throat, his head kicked back as his hips thrust brutally into the tight cavern of your throat. Your tongue sliding along the top of his cock as his tip bullies its way down your throat. You’re gagging and spitting around his length, choked moaned muffled by the thick dick sliding up and down your throat. “F-fuck.” He stutters out in a breathless laugh, a blissful grin stretched across his lips. “Such a good cock sucker, so fuckin sloppy.” He says pulling all the way out of your throat with a sickening wet sound. You’re gasping for air, a messy string of spit coming out of your mouth and connecting your mouth to the tip of his throbbing cock. His hand releases his harsh grip on your throat, hand moving up and down the expanse of your neck in a soothing motion. “Look at you Señorita…” he says in a proud tone, “such a beautiful sight..” he hums.

You then watch from an upside down view as he fumbles for his phone that was on the ground. You se him unlock it and presumably go to the camera app. He comes back closer to you, resting his heavy cock on your face. Your suspicions are proved correct when the flash of his camera flicks on, you only get impossibly righter- clenching around Nam-gyu who lets out a choked, “slut loves to be filmed”

Thanos is pointing the phone down at you as he slides his cock past your pillowy lips. He watches through the phone screen as he sinks deeper into your mouth, you’re gagging around him as he begins to push past the tight ring of your throat. “Mhm…” he mumbles to himself, eyes trained on the bulge that begins to show in your throat on the image displayed on his phone. His hand is back on your throat, squeezing it before trailing down, his phone camera following his movements. He leans over you, his cock sinking deeper into your throat. His hand grips at your tits that bounce with Nam-gyu’s thrusts. He then pans the camera up, catching how Nam-gyu fucks into your cunt.

The corner of Nam-gyu’s bottom lip is caught in his teeth, one of his hands is around your hip, holding you up slightly as he thrusts into you, the other is reaching up to take his hair back and out of his face before dropping back down to his side. The wet sound of skin slapping on skin is resounding through the room, most certainly being picked up by the camera recording you three. Thanos cannot deny how fucking hot the view is that the phone camera captures. He watches on through the screen as Nam-gyu reaches his free up and begins to play with your clit. You sob out in pleasure round Thanos’ cock. The vibrations cause him to nearly fall over, he has to stop his recording abruptly- throwing his phone to the side before pulling out of your throat.

“C’mon man I gotta fuck her cunt.” Thanos nearly begs Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu thrusts into your pussy once more, sinking balls deep in you, wanting to hear you cry out for him without Thanos’ cock muffling the sounds. And that you do, it’s a choked, wracked whine, it’s a cute sound that has both of them groaning in response. Nam-gyu is pulling out of you, looking down to see how your cunt holds the shape of his tick cock for a second before desperately clenching around nothing. “Fine, fine….i wanna feel her choke on my cock too anyway.” The longer haired male is scoffing.

Once again, they’re moving you with a swiftness that leaves you no time to process what position you’re in until you feel the tips of their cocks touch you. You’re on all fours, back arched so prettily. Thanos is behind you painted nails digging into the flesh of your ass as he rocks his dick against you. Nam-gyu is in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he runs his leaking tip against your lips- smearing his pre-cum on your lips like a new personalized lipgloss- his other hand gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

In tandem they’re sinking back inside you. Your moans muffled by Nam-gyu’s cock. Despite being stretched out by Nam-gyu fucking you previously, you’re were still gripping down on Thanos’ cock like a vice. His hips are drawing back, watching the way your cunt sucks him back into your tight walls. Your eyes look up at Nam-gyu his head tilted back and his mouth hung open singing praises of your name as your tongue swirled around him.

“Still so fuckin’ tight…” Thanos growls, his hips slapping into your ass violently, his painted nails leaving crescent moon shaped imprints in the far of your ass. One of his hands releases its grip to smack your ass, it’s hard and painful, making you sob out and choke around Nam-gyu’s cock. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch.” The male in front of you growls, feeling your moans around his dick when Thanos spanks you. It’s resounding through your head as deep rumble that only makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Creamin’ all over my fuckin’ cock.” You hear Thanos growl from above you, his thrust becoming rougher, jolting you forward and further down Nam-Gyu’s cock. You feel one of Thanos’ hand grip at one of the globes of your ass, pushing up and spreading you so he can see the mess that is your pussy. Anytime he draws his hips back, sticky strings of your thick arousal coat his thighs and pelvis, dripping down to his heavy balls that slap against your clit with every mind numbing thrust. “Just love getting ruined by two fuckin’ cocks, don’t’cha pretty girl?” Thanos says, and you feel him spit downwards, the warm saliva dripping down the valley of your ass and mixing with the mess between your thighs as he pile drives into you.

Nam-gyu’s hand that holds your tightens, a signal for you to respond. You let out a muffled ‘mhm!’ your eyes fluttering closed and screwing shut as you feel yourself about to cum. Every time Thanos thrusts into you the fat tip of his cock brutally fucks into your g-spot. “Oh you’re close…fuckin milkin’ me” Thanos growls lowly, your eyes are welling with tears at this point. Thanos looks up at the black haired male in front of him, “she already squirted and she still wants to cum again…how fuckin’ greedy.. makin’ us do all the work.” He finishes, one of his hands reaching diagonally across your back to grip at your ass.

“You’re right..” Nam-gyu responds, pushing your mouth impossibly deeper down his shaft, your tongue lapping at his balls. “Make her to the work this time…” And you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Thanos nods in response, his hand coming down to slap your ass, “You heard him. Work for it.” He hisses. “Wanna cum so bad? Fuck yourself on my cock like the slut you are.” The purple haired male finishes in a deep rasp from behind you.

You can do nothing but obey, lest you don’t want to cum. You’re grinding back onto him, looking up at Nam-Gyu as he releases the make shift ponytail he has your hair in and begins to cradle your face in both his hands, “C’mon you can do better than that….” Nam-gyu says lowly, looking down at you, beginning to fuck his cock down your throat, “Don’t you wanna cum? You’re not actin’ like it…” he says, you know it’s a threat.

You begin to fuck your self back onto the purple hairs man behind you, a loud ‘slap’ of wet skin resounds through the room every time your ass connects to the fronts of his thighs, the flesh recoiling against his skin. “That’s it. F-fuck.” Thanos hisses out, his hand on your ass moving with the flesh that jiggles each time you sink him balls deep, “Look at that fuckin’ ass…” he grumbles in a low voice, more to himself than anyone, but Nam-Gyu hums in approval as he watches on, low moans of praise falling from his lips as you suck him down eagerly, moaning around him with more ferocity.

“Yeah…you’re gonna cum, can fuckin feel it, go on make a mess f’me, pretty girl.” Thanos says, his hand wrapping around you to play with your throbbing clit in erratic circles. The stimulation immediately throws you over the edge, you’re clenching down on Thanos’ cock so hard it stills his movements. Nam-Gyu pulls out of your throat, his hand fisting his cock as you gasp, catching your breath. Immediately you’re moaning and whining out, your hips are simultaneously thrusting back onto the thick length in sloppy motions and trying to bring your clit into his fingers.

You’re orgasm sprays out of you in a violent fountain, and Thanos adjusts his hands to grip both of your hips, brutally pulling you back against him and fucking your cum out of you in gushing spurts. You’re sobbing out a mix of their names, babbled and choked as you see stars. Your breath is heaving, you would have fallen down if it wasn’t for the both of them reaching down to hold you up.

And as fucked out as you are, overstimulated beyond belief- you can only think of the fact they have yet to cum. You look at them desperately, like it’s the one thing you truly need to be satisfied after all this. Your adrenaline keeps you coherent enough to keep wanting more. You wouldn’t be satiated until you felt them cum on you or in you- you never were.

They’re working together to pull you off the bed and you follow excitedly, being this position all too many times- it was one of your favorites. As you situate yourself on your knees in front of them and look up at them teary eyed and fucked out- hair matted and sticking to your face and lips swollen from taking both of them in your mouth- they’re fisting their cocks over you, singing praises of your form as you kneel below them.

“So fuckin pretty, cryin’ f’us.” Nam-gyu grunts out, squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock before working to fist the rest of his length. “Such a good girl…knew just what to do…” Thanos mumbles, his words broken by a moan, “fuck…look at you kneelin’ like the good whore ya are.” He finishes. You’re addicted to the way both their fists work furiously against their cocks, each having their own rhythm and particular way of doing it.

“Gonna be a good girl and let us paint y’er face?” Nam-Gyu says, quirking an eyebrow up at you. When you nod and part your lips, sticking out your tongue they both groan. “F-fuck you look so good, wanna record this.” Thanos grunts, Nam-gyu seems to have the same idea as they’re both reaching over and grabbing their phones that were scattered about the bed. They’re quickly returning in front of you, looming over you as they work their hands along their cocks above you.

You look up at them, your face stained with tears, eyes red, puffy and covered in mascara- but you still eagerly await what they’re gonna give you with your tongue out. Your eyes are squinting against the harsh light of the flash from both your phones. It should make you embarrassed that you’re letting them record you in this state but you’re not- you love it.

“Yeeeahhh….” Thanos growls, his hand fisting his cock rapidly, “that’s it pretty girl, you look so fuckin good.” He praises, his voice becoming shaky. You look over to Nam-Gyu who is obviously just as close to cumming, his hand jerking his thick length, using your spit as lube. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good covered in our cum, princess.” Nam-Gyu is hissing out.

You nod, moaning out, wanting nothing more than to be painted by the both of them. Thanos kicks his head back, moaning out your name in a low hiss, his cum beginning to fall to your face in pearly white ropes. Nam-gyu is right behind him, phone in his hand shaking slightly as he jerks his cock over your face.

You can feel the alternating ropes of their warm cum covering your face. Your eyes shutting as you collect what you could on your tongue. You feel a large drop land on one of your eyelids, thankful you closed your eyes, but something about the raunchiness of it just makes you sigh out.

They’re both stepping forward, placing the tips of their cocks on your tongue. Like the good girl you are, you’re eagerly cleaning them up. Tongue rolling between the two thick cocks and taking them into your mouth, you open your one eye- looking up to the camera as you make more of a show of stretching your mouth around the both of them, sucking them both dry.

They’re ending the video and throwing their phones to the ground almost simultaneously, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. When they tilt their heads back down to look at the mess they made, you’re swiping a finger across your face to collect the mix of their cum and suck it off your fingers. You smile up innocently at them and they both groan, smiling down at you.

Nam-Gyu is picking you up off the floor like you’re a rag doll, “you’re gonna be the death of us” he chuckles. He’s throwing you onto his bed and you bounce softly on the plush mattress letting out a giggle. You didn’t even realize Thanos had stepped away until he’s hovering over your face from the side of the bed and wiping you clean with a cool towel.

You can help but giggle and smile as he does it. It’s so odd, they just fucked you like a whore and now they’re doting on you. Nam-gyu is filling up your water bottle that you kept on the bedside table and begging to roll another blunt while Thanos is trying to fight your giggles to keep you still enough to clean you. Something he knows you love after being so completely ruined, it allows you to relax.

They really were the best boyfriends. You really don’t know what you’d do without them and you’re glad that you’re able to see the two varying sides of the both of them.

Buut…They never fail to remind you of their other side of them, the raunchy personalities that originally drew you towards them. Like days later with your out to dinner with your friends and you see they both send a couple videos in your group chat, and you open it unexpectedly to see the most sinful pictures and videos- trying desperately to shield the very obvious image that blares across your screen.

Up next on requests I got another thangyu non-squid games request focused on silky dynamics of the relationship

After that is more thangyu with thick!reader smut. Including double penetration n thick thigh love!

3rd in line we have a namgyu smut with naive! / innocent! Reader >:)

4th we got a new ask for a dead beat baby daddy! Namgyu x reader smut involving hate fucking

As always thank you all for reading and requesting! It’s always so much fun getting to interact with you guys and write them!!! - love always <3 kiwi

[kirain]

Can I request Emmrich giving Rook a message that gets a bit...spicy? 👀

Did you mean "massage"? I don't usually write stuff like this, but I gave it a go. Please let me know if it's sexy, because I genuinely have no idea. 😅

A dull ache coiled through Vae's body as she stirred awake, her limbs stiff from yesterday's battle. She inhaled sharply, blinking against the shimmering amber light that filtered through the curtains. The warmth beside her shifted as she did, and before she could school her expression, a silken voice murmured, "You're hurting."

Vae barely had time to glance at Emmrich before his fingers ghosted over her bare shoulder, her gown hanging lower than she usually allowed. She tried to wave her hand, feigning indifference.

"I'm fine," she lied, rolling towards the edge of the bed. But the moment she pushed herself upright, a piercing twinge shot through her back. She hissed, her muscles protesting the movement.

Emmrich was on her in an instant.

Large hands settled on her shoulders, warm and firm, kneading gently. The initial pressure sent a shiver down her spine, earning a breathy chuckle.

"Emmrich, really, it's nothing—"

"Shhh," he hushed her, pressing his thumbs into a tight knot near her shoulder blade.

Vae bit her lip, unable to suppress the low moan that escaped her throat. His touch was precise, reverent, as if he were committing every joint, every curve of her body to memory. His thumbs worked slow circles, his palms gliding down her arms; squeezing, stroking.

"You push yourself too hard," he whispered, his voice like velvet, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Her breath hitched, heat surging in her belly as his fingers traced the delicate ridges of her spine, smoothing away the tension. Then his lips replaced his hands, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of her neck. Vae melted, tilting her head to grant him better access.

Insatiable, the older man took full advantage.

His kisses grew more insistent, more passionate, trailing inwards and nipping lightly before soothing a particularly sensitive spot with his tongue.

"Exquisite," he whirred, basking in the taste of her natural essence and leftover hints of perfume. "Divine."

Vae's head lolled back, her pulse quickening as his mouth worshipped every inch of exposed skin.

"Emmrich..." she breathed, a soft gasp echoing through the room when he sucked at the tender junction of her neck.

"Darling," he purred in response.

Suddenly, his body pressed flush against her back, solid and yearning, his heat sinking into her. One arm wrapped around her waist, fingers splayed possessively over her stomach.

"Let me take care of you," he rasped, his voice thick with intent.

Vae's fingers curled into the sheets, her body thrumming with anticipation. She arched back, craving more, her heart pounding as his kisses pressed deeper, wetter—his hand slipped between her thighs.

Knock, knock, knock!

They both froze.

With a growl of frustration, Emmrich's forehead dropped against her shoulder, and Vae groaned, choking back a curse.

"Are you two coming?" Taash yelled, the sound muffled by the door.

Vae forced a calming breath, ignoring the rousing sensation pooling in her core. "We'll be there soon," she called, keeping her voice genial despite her irritation.

It wasn't Taash's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

Duty called.

There was a pause. Then Taash, oblivious as ever, said, "Hurry up. We're waiting for you downstairs, and Manfred's getting antsy without you around. I'm not a damn babysitter."

Footsteps retreated. The moment they were gone, Emmrich's lips found Vae's neck again. He kissed the spot he had just abandoned, slowly, sensually, almost teasing.

"Tonight," he muttered against her skin, "I'll work out all the kinks."

Vae shivered.

Emmrich smirked.

And with great reluctance, they finally got out of bed.

[mikashisus]

❛ ── INTRICATELY ENTWINED ❜

⤷ synopsis. to be so intricately connected with someone was a blessing, but it could also be a curse.

mydei x gn!reader. 789. ( contents : fluff! angst if u squint ) ╱ taglist. @wystiix @pneumosia @kazuinvocation @pixelcafe-network ( art creds : quinii09 ) HAPPY BIRTHDAY @st6rly !!!

Mydei liked to watch you. There was nothing more intimate to the both of you than gazing upon the other while they flourished in their trade. 

And right now, you with your tongue sticking out of your mouth as you furiously jotted down new song lyrics and hummed a soft tune under your breath, was nothing short of enchanting. You had your moments. You could be utterly disheveled from a fight, all battered and bruised, yet he’d still find a way to see the beauty in you. 

His way of portraying how he saw you was entirely different from the way you viewed him. To you, he was the words you wrote feverishly on parchment, a harmonious melody in your ears, elegant brush strokes on a canvas, the whistling of the wind in your ears and the softness of the breeze on your skin. He was the light guiding your path, the ink tattooed on your skin, the flow of pomegranate juice down your throat. 

Mydei was all that and more. He was the sun you chased after, the morning star that led you home. 

He brought color into your life. He was your muse. 

To him, you were something worth fighting for. The people of Kremnos valued the thrill of battle and personal honor above all, yet he always needed a purpose for fighting. Battle was not a game. It was an art. However, in that art, there was a purpose— a meaning that he so desperately sought for. Yes… battle was thrilling and the thrum in his veins during a fight was unlike anything he ever felt, but… it wasn’t something that consumed him. To be consumed by battle and bloodlust was a dishonor to Nikador’s core values. 

You were the purpose he found. You were the reason he continued to fight. 

The both of you could not be any more different, as was the way you saw each other— but it was also all the same. 

He was the finest melody, and you were the cherished fire setting him alight with purpose. 

Your eyes gazed up from your rough draft of the new song you were working on, drifting to the open window in your study. The market was bustling with life, but it missed your presence on the streets. 

A smile tugged at your lips. You’d return once more with a new song, and you’d sing it for the very muse who had been staring at you this whole time. You could feel his gaze on you, just like always, and with a soft sigh, you met his eyes. 

“You know… you should take a picture— maybe you’ll stare at that more than me, then.” 

He smirked. “Am I distracting you, bard?” 

You hummed. “Evidently so. But… you are fueling this— explosive creativity I have, so maybe you can stay.” 

“I was going to anyway.” He quipped, taking a sip of the pomegranate juice you offered him earlier. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Could say the same to you, my dear warrior.” 

He was stuck with you now— and you with him. The two of you didn’t mind, though, as this exchange meant more than all the words you could ever string together, and more than all the battles he could ever fight in your honor. 

To be so intricately connected with someone was a blessing. It could also be a curse, but ultimately, it was a blessing. It was healing, in a way. 

You were seated across from him, your legs propped up on your desk as you scribbled in the notebook resting on your lap. Yet, you felt near to him, wrapped up in his embrace just from the soft expression in his eyes as he continued to stare at you like a cat. He was seated across from you, his chin resting in his palm and a lazy smile on his face. However, he could feel the coolness of your touch on his skin as you sent him an occasional fond smile. 

You didn’t have to be right next to each other to feel each other’s embrace. You didn’t have to be near the other to feel their love, adoration, or passion. You could be anywhere in the world and know exactly how he felt for you— how his life force connected with yours and intertwined with it so deeply. 

Was this what they called soulmates? 

The lingering thought in your mind gave rise to new inspiration, and suddenly you were grabbing your lute and finishing the remainder of the song meant to express your unconditional love for the man looking at you as if you had been the one to bear the world on your back instead of Kephale.

notes. happy birthday atlys!!! i hope u enjoyed this drabble! i'm really happy with how it turned out! this was more or less a continuation of the last mydei oneshot i wrote, but it can be considered a stand alone too. i'm hoping to start writing drabbles like this for moots for their birthdays!! i hope u have a wonderful bday atlys, and welcome to adulthood! 🤍

© 2025 mikashisus.

[strangeaxel]

you appear to draw isaac and gerard as being very physically close. cuddly even (:3c), and i want to learn more about this specific aspect because its so cute.. were they always like that? did they have to build up a lot of trust in each other first? how do they see and engage with touch? are/were they ever touch starved?

Drawing a made for the ask lalalala

First of all, thanks for the question! <3

In Gerard's case he used to touch Isaac's hands for example or shoulders to basically indicate he was safe with him and also try to communicate he wanted something more than a friendship with him when they were starting to know each other. I feel like even tho Gerard doesn't consider he's romantic himself in a traditional way i feel he actually is-- (Like when Susana Gimenez asked Charly Garcia if he was romantic and he said yes and Susana asked him "really? You like a dinner, with roses and candles??" And he said "i said im romantic, not stupid" lmao) He calls bitch pet names and cute things even tho she's always abusive towards him, he still tries, so imagine how much freedom could he have with someone like Isaac, a guy that has an anxious attachedment style. I feel he is the way he is in the game as a way of self defense, a way for him to cope with all the shit he has to go through all the time xD so he can't show much emotion or tries to hide it with humor, but in Isaac's world, this paradise isn't so bad, it's more,,, realistic. He doesn't have the constant need to hide his needs in a relationship like he used to (Well, only in private since ... its the 90s-2000s, duh). Gerard started to be more expressive with his physical touch towards Isaac as went time on, cuz of isaac's delusions of people being infected or sinful (this last one mostly because of his alters, for example, Demon) and also so Isaac could have time to process his own feelings, being someone who tries/tried to be a devoted christian this relationship felt wrong in all senses, it took him some time to accept he indeed liked him. Isaac isn't someone who would be nagging you on the streets is he saw you in, for example, a gay relationship, he's ignorant mostly, he doesn't have evil intentions (he also uses this ignorant/innocent view as a way to cope with his own emotions towards man).

While in Isaac's case, once he accepted it/half accepted it started to do your typical couple stuff, only in private, he gets mad when Gerard holds his hand on public and even tho this bothers Gerard a little bit he just can't complain, he understands but also well... his wife was much worst than this. Isaac feels safe cuddling with him, he feels like nothing wrong can happend when he's around (even tho Gerard's bad luck follows him everywhere lol), sometimes when he's having strong episodes because of his delusion it feels like he and him are the only non infected. Isaac has BPD so touch and words mean a lot to him even tho he isn't the best showing his love in a conventional way + he's non verbal for most of the time, it's like they both have two different types of autism lol

I think that's all i have to say about this at least for now, i'm still working on the ship but these types of questions really help me to understand and think of ways to improve it, thanks a lot for the question once again, i'm glad people are interested in knowing about my au/ship.

The song i used as lyrics for the drawing (i love this Tribute so much, please go check it out):

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 6 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇we FINALLY meet other characters

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Antinous leaned against the cold stone wall of the training grounds, his chains rattling softly with each movement. His sharp eyes tracked Telemachus, who stood across from him, tense and visibly fraying at the edges as the weight of the looming war pressed down on him. “Tell me something, king,” Antinous began, his tone dripping with venom. “Do you really think you’ll make it to y/n in time? Or do you just enjoy playing the tragic hero for show?”

Telemachus’s fists clenched, but he didn’t turn around. “We’re preparing. Every soldier is being trained, every ship outfitted. I’ll get her back, Antinous. I swear it.”

Antinous scoffed, the sound filled with derision. “Swear all you want. Swear to the gods, swear to me. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. And who knows what that bastard is doing to her right now?”

Telemachus spun around, his eyes blazing with fury. “Shut your mouth!” he snapped. “You think I’m not already tormented enough?”

Antinous took a step forward, his chains clinking as he moved, the mocking smile on his face fading into something cruel and unrelenting. “Tormented?” he repeated, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word, Telemachus. Do you realize what could happen while you waste time preparing? She might already be carrying that monster’s child by the time you finally decide to act. Or worse…” He leaned in closer, his words slicing through the air like a blade. “She might not be alive at all.”

Telemachus froze, the weight of those words slamming into him like a blow. He opened his mouth to argue, to scream back, but nothing came. His breathing turned ragged, his mind flashing with horrifying images he didn’t want to believe. “You think she’s just sitting there, waiting for you to come save her?” Antinous continued relentlessly, his voice rising with bitter anger. “She’s suffering, Telemachus. Every second you waste is another second she’s being tormented by that prince you so graciously welcomed into your home. You let this happen. You let him near her. And now, you’re just standing here, hoping war will fix everything.”

Telemachus’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of guilt pressing him down. “I’m doing everything I can…” he murmured, his voice cracking.

Antinous sneered. “Everything you can? Clearly, it’s not enough. You’re her husband, aren’t you? Her protector? Then why is she gone? Why is my sister—your wife—at the mercy of a man who doesn’t know the meaning of mercy?”

Telemachus took a shaky step back, his mind a storm of emotions: anger, shame, fear. Antinous’s words were cruel, yes, but they carried the sting of truth. “I’ll get her back,” Telemachus finally whispered, his voice hollow but determined.

Antinous shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’d better. Because if you don’t, if she’s already lost by the time you finally get to her…” His expression twisted into something cold and menacing. “You’ll wish I was still chained when you return.” The words echoed in the space between them as Telemachus turned away, his heart heavy and his resolve burning brighter than ever.

——

The salt laden wind whipped Telemachus’s cloak as the Ithacan ships sailed eastward, their oars cutting through the restless waves. Determination burned in his chest. He needed more men—strategists, warriors, anyone who could strengthen their force and ensure his wife’s safe return. He scanned the horizon as their fleet neared the ports of various islands, each harbor holding the potential to tip the war in his favor.

Druses

Telemachus stepped onto the polished marble streets of Lyris, a city known for its artists and beauty. Among the crowd gathered in the marketplace stood Druses, a man with an ethereal elegance that rivaled the gods. His long black hair flowed like a river of silk, and his piercing purple eyes seemed to strip away all pretense. When Telemachus approached him, Druses’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “King of Ithaca,” he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What brings you here, so far from your shores?”

“I’ve come to ask for your sword,” Telemachus said plainly, meeting his gaze. “Your reputation precedes you, Druses. I need warriors of your skill.”

Druses tilted his head, inspecting Telemachus like one might study a sculpture. “And why should I care about your war? What honor is there in chasing after a stolen wife?”

Telemachus clenched his jaw but kept his tone steady. “This isn’t just about my wife. It’s about justice. If men like Raphael can take what they please without consequence, then what’s to stop them from doing it again? Stand with me, Druses, and your name will be sung for generations as a champion of righteousness.”

Druses’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Honor, you say?” He paused, letting the word linger in the air before nodding. “Very well. I’ll join you, if only to see if your conviction matches your words. But be warned—I expect no less than glory on this campaign.”

Florus

Their next stop was the tranquil island of Myrinthos, where the forests stretched endlessly and whispers of an unmatched strategist echoed through the villages. Telemachus found Florus perched in a tree, his bow strung lazily across his back. The young man was slight, with an air of calm intelligence that belied his sharp wit.

“Florus,” Telemachus called out, drawing the archer’s attention.

Florus glanced down, one brow raised. “And who might you be, shouting into my forest?”

“King Telemachus of Ithaca,” he replied. “I’ve heard of your skill with the bow and your brilliant mind for strategy. I’ve come to ask for your aid in a war.”

Florus hopped down from the tree, dusting off his hands. “A war, you say? Sounds messy. And loud.” He gave Telemachus a lazy smile. “Not exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Would you rather stay here, bored out of your mind, while the world changes around you?” Telemachus countered. “You’re too sharp to waste your talents in obscurity. Join us, and you’ll have the chance to shape the course of history.”

Florus considered this, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Boredom has been a problem lately…” He grinned. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. But only because I can’t resist a good challenge. Just don’t expect me to get my hands dirty too often.”

Cassander

Their final stop brought them to the bustling city of Almyros, where Cassander was found in a tavern, charming a group of women with his cocky grin and boastful tales. The man was tall and broad shouldered, his confidence radiating like the sun. Telemachus approached, his presence commanding enough to make Cassander glance up from his admirers. “And who are you?” Cassander asked, raising a brow.

“King Telemachus of Ithaca,” he introduced himself. “I’m forming an army to wage war against Skiaphos. I need men like you—strong, fearless, and skilled in battle.”

Cassander laughed, leaning back in his chair. “And what’s in it for me, your majesty? Gold? Glory?” His grin widened. “Or perhaps the promise of beautiful women to claim as prizes after victory?”

Telemachus fought back a grimace. “If it’s women you want, then you’ll find no shortage of them on the battlefield,” he said evenly, though his tone carried a subtle edge. “But if you’re truly as skilled as they say, then you’ll also earn the respect of kings and warriors alike. Your name will be known far beyond Almyros.”

Cassander chuckled, clearly pleased by the prospect. “Alright, King Telemachus. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t forget—when this is all over, I expect my rewards to be worth the trouble.”

With Druses, Florus, and Cassander aboard his fleet, Telemachus felt the weight of his army grow stronger. Each man brought something unique to the table, honor, strategy, brute strength, but as the ships sailed onward, Telemachus’s mind remained focused on one thing: bringing y/n and Adonis home. No matter the cost.

——

The sea stretched endlessly before them, the waves rocking the fleet of warships as they made their way toward Skiaphos. But no amount of salt air or open water could calm the growing tension aboard the Ithacan flagship—thanks entirely to Antinous and Eurymachus. “Can you not chew like a wild boar?” Antinous snapped, glaring at Eurymachus, who was sitting on a crate and loudly munching on a piece of dried bread.

Eurymachus smirked, deliberately chewing even louder. “What’s the matter, dungeon boy? Can’t handle the sound of freedom?”

Antinous’s jaw twitched as he took a threatening step forward. “Say that again, and I’ll throw you overboard.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eurymachus shot back.

Before Antinous could follow through on his threat, acrisios groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For the gods’ sake, can you two not brawl for five minutes? Some of us are trying to work!” Antinous crossed his arms, muttering under his breath, while Eurymachus grinned smugly, enjoying his small victory.

Later, Telemachus assigned Antinous and Eurymachus to work together, hoping the shared responsibility would force them to cooperate. It didn’t. “You’re supposed to tie the knots tighter than that,” Antinous barked as Eurymachus attempted to secure a sail.

Eurymachus raised an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to be useful. Guess we’re both failing today.” The knot slipped loose, and the sail whipped wildly in the wind. Antinous cursed, lunging to fix it while Eurymachus leaned lazily against the mast, clearly enjoying the chaos.

When the sail was finally secured, Antinous turned on him, his face red with fury. “Do you have any idea how close that was to tearing?”

“Relax,” Eurymachus said with a shrug. “You caught it. No harm done.”

Antinous lunged at him, and the two ended up wrestling on the deck, much to the crew’s dismay. It wasn’t just each other they tormented, Antinous and Eurymachus managed to irritate everyone else on the ship as well.

Antinous had a habit of pacing the deck at all hours, his restless energy keeping half the crew awake at night. “Could you not stomp around like an elephant?” one sailor finally snapped.

“I’ll stomp wherever I want,” Antinous retorted, glaring at the man.

By the third day at sea, Telemachus was at his wit’s end. He cornered the two troublemakers on the deck, his voice low but filled with warning. “If either of you causes one more problem, I’ll personally throw you both overboard,” he growled.

Antinous crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “I didn’t ask to be here with him, king.”

“And I didn’t ask to babysit a dungeon rat,” Eurymachus added, grinning. Telemachus rubbed his temples, wondering leaving them chained together in the brig for the remainder of the journey might actually be worth it.

Despite their constant bickering and knack for causing chaos, there was an odd energy between Antinous and Eurymachus that somehow managed to keep morale from sinking entirely. Whether it was the absurdity of their arguments or the sheer entertainment of watching them try to one up each other, the crew found themselves laughing more often than not, even if it was through gritted teeth.

——

The ships rowed steadily through the darkened waves, the creak of the oars and the low murmur of voices filling the air. But even the rhythm of the sea couldn’t drown out the constant bickering and antics of Antinous and Eurymachus. Their usual antics got on the nerves of the crew, especially Druses, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, trying to focus on sharpening his blade.

Finally, with a loud clang, Druses slammed his dagger down onto the wooden crate beside him. His usually composed and serene face twisted with frustration as he stood up abruptly, his long black hair whipping around him like a dark storm. “Enough!” he roared, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. Everyone froze. Even Antinous and Eurymachus stopped mid insult, turning to look at him. “What is the point of this ridiculous expedition?” Druses snapped, his violet eyes blazing as he gestured toward Telemachus. “All this effort, all this chaos, to save a woman who, let’s be honest, has likely already been defiled and used by that Skiaphosian prince you’re so obsessed with! She’s probably broken by now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The words hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, and the crew shifted uncomfortably, some exchanging nervous glances. Telemachus’s hand shot out, slamming against the mast as he pushed himself to his feet. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with a cold fury that made even the bravest men step back. He locked eyes with Druses, his voice dangerously low but steady.

“Say that again,” Telemachus hissed, each word laced with venom. “Insult my wife one more time, and I’ll throw you as a sacrifice to Poseidon myself.”

Druses scoffed, crossing his arms but stepping back a fraction. “You’re blind, Telemachus. You think she’s waiting for you with open arms? You think she hasn’t been ruined—”

Telemachus didn’t let him finish. He strode forward, grabbing Druses by the collar and yanking him close, his teeth bared in a snarl. “She is my wife,” he growled. “The mother of my son. You will not speak of her that way. Ever.”

The tension was suffocating, the other men watching with bated breath. Antinous leaned against the railing, clearly enjoying the show, while Eurymachus raised an eyebrow, muttering, “Didn’t think Druses had it in him.”

Druses, though shaken by Telemachus’s fury, held his ground, meeting the king’s glare with a defiant gaze. “Fine,” he said evenly, though his voice was quieter now. “But don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re leading us into war over one woman. If this fails, it’s not just your loss—it’s ours.”

Telemachus released him with a rough shove, his hands trembling slightly from the sheer force of his rage. “Then stay behind if you’re so concerned about your loss,” he snapped. “No one’s forcing you to be here, Druses. But don’t you dare insult her again, or I’ll make sure you regret it.” Druses straightened his tunic, his jaw tightening as he turned away without another word. The crew remained silent, the tension thick as Telemachus stood there, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths.

Finally, Eurymachus broke the silence with a lazy drawl, “Well, that was entertaining. Let’s see who snaps next.”

“Shut up, Eurymachus,” Telemachus barked, and the former suitor raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. The king returned to his spot, his eyes fixed on the horizon. His heart ached, not from Druses’s words, but from the fear that they might be true. But he shook the thought away. She was strong. She was his—and he would bring her home, no matter the situation.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world

@simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl @dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 11 - More Then Friends

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: mentions of blood, its all fluff.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Price, Ghost and Gaz left first. Leaving before the sun was up in a somewhat hectic rush. Their plan was to get over the border then commandeer a car or something. Price said it could be a few days before you hear from them but they will send word. 

Soap sulked down the stairs an hour or so later, when the sun was just peaking through the clouds. You can’t wait to leave here and never come back. The whole blood soaked place can burn to the ground for all you care.

“They left already.” You say as he comes to sit on the sofa next to you.

“I know. Si- Ghost came to say bye.” He shuffles on the couch rubbing his burnt arm. You’ll need to change the dressing before you leave. “We should get going soon. We need to get a car. It’s easier to do while it’s still dark out.” 

You follow Soap’s orders in silence, the lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. You change the dressing as Soap grits his teeth complaining about itching. You have no idea if it’s healing or if its still supposed to look the way it does. It’s only been a day or so anyway. 

When you’re done Soap steals some supplies- mostly food -from the safehouse and you set out to look for a vehicle. It doesn’t take you long to find a rather old looking car, you keep an eye out while Soap hotwires it like he’s done this a thousand times. Before you know it you’re on the road driving back to Sakhra.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks after at least an hour of silence, you were starting to doze off. His question jolts you awake and you look over at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask. He smiles.

“I just had to, you’re stunning lass.” He says, it makes you blush. You turn to look out the window of the car. 

“Don’t falter me, a few days ago you would have put a bullet in my head.” 

“Yeah, we’re not merciless killers though.” You scoff, they’re soldiers, they're trained killers. You sit there in silence. 

“You’re a good kisser.” He says suddenly. 

“What- I mean. It was just a kiss.” You say feeling embarrassed, he just laughs. That annoys you, he’s being so chill about it, what if Price found out? What if he finds out then decides you’re a liability?

“You all seem close.” You say trying to move the subject on from you and Johnny. 

“Closer than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re a close unit. Worked together for years. When you spend so much time together, you develop a strong relationship.” He says switching between watching the road and your expression. You have an eyebrow raised, you expected him to continue. 

“Brothers in arms right?” You say, you’ve heard that before from soldiers.

“More than that.” You shake your head scoffing. He’s playing with you, trying to wind you up. What's closer than brothers? 

“You fucking each other or somthing.” You joke back. He doesn’t say anything, you turn back to look at him frowning. He’s just smiling, the cheekiest grin you think you’ve ever seen. “Really? You’re messing with me.” He just laughs, it doesn’t help you decide if he’s joking or not.

You let out a sigh looking out at the winding road. You’re not far now.

____

When you make it back to the ULF base the place is almost empty. You both head straight to the doctor who fixes your stitches and tends to Soap’s arm as well as giving him a pot of burn cream and instructions. 

When you’re done you both go to see Farah. Alex is with her, they both look tired. The table is filled with maps dotted with big red X’s. You look round as Soap catches them up on what happened. You wonder if Price has sent word yet, you hope they’re okay.

“-We take out Konni, before they make it any further south.” Farah says, you look over at them, catching the end of the conversation. 

“We don’t know if Konni are moving or not. Price will be able to give us some idea.” Soap says.

“We could be waiting days for that.” Alex says crossing his arms, he doesn’t have a sling anymore, maybe his arm was just sprained.

“They attacked their own bases?” You ask pointing at the map. 

“They want to shift the blame to us.” Farah says.

“The fact they used American weapons on civilians has got the US all wound up.” Alex says.

“They’re spreading us thin, I’ve already lost 20 men. We can’t fight them on the front without leaving ourselves open to attacks.” Farah sighs.

“You have weapons from the US, why not fight back?” You ask. There’s silence, people look around at you like you’ve just asked them to do something impossible. 

“If we fire on them we lose our advantage.” She says.

“Which is?” Soap asks.

“If the Americans come, they won’t be after us.” She says. You look down at the map, the new line Al Qatala have formed. There’s no news if Konni or Al Qatala forces have made a move from the border, it seems like they’re waiting for the ULF to make a move first. 

It’s too many targets for Farah to handle alone. 

“What about hitting them at the source? Take out the rest of their weapons.” You say pointing at the farm you know they’ve been storing munitions and rockets.

“They were fired from Russia.” Alex said.

“No, they were fired from inside the country. I bet if it's going to be anywhere it’s there.” You tap the map. Farah and Alex look at eachother. 

“A full scale raid is not possible.” She says, stepping back from the table.

“We could go in quiet.” Soap says. “Just the 4 of us.” 

“The place will be heavily guarded. They could have also moved them elsewhere.” Farah says.

“Even if we don’t find the missiles we will deal a pretty big blow to their resources.” Soap says. “You need all the help you can get.” 

“Okay. Tonight, you should get some rest.” Farah says. Soap smiles at her and Alex. He grabs your arm gently pulling you out of the room. You’re heading down to the sleeping quarters before Soap grabs your arm pulling you into a store room. 

“Hey!” You call, you almost trip over something as his hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up against the wall. Before you have a chance to say anything his lips lock onto yours. His kiss is needy, his tongue pressing into your mouth. You hum, closing your eyes and letting your hands drop to his waist. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as he pulls his lips off you, his mouth moving to your neck. His hands 

“What?” He asks, he’s not stopping though, running his tongue up your neck.

“What if Price found out?” 

“What do you mean?” He says. “Want him to join, I reckon he’ll be down for that.” He chuckles, now you’re convinced he's winding you up. You push your hands up his shirt and he grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, you’re sure he’ll be leaving marks. You run your fingers up his chest, feeling each muscle and scar. He’s hairy, you don’t care, now you’re getting needy, his lips running over you sucking on the sensitive spots on your neck. 

He looks up down at you, his hands come to hold your face. “I’m so glad I got you first. I thought I was going to have to fight off Gaz, or Price.” You frown at him but before you can press him further he kisses you. You drop your hands from his chest, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to you. 

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, you didn’t think anyone knew you were in here.

“Soap? There’s word from Price.” it’s Alex’s voice. Johnny smiles down at you.

“We’ll finish this later.” He says quietly before reaching over to open the door. You feel yourself blushing as Alex raises an eye at you both. Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and they walk away.

Banners by plum98

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 31/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, FLUFF

Word Count: 6981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 31 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

Your mom and dad had been quietly watching from across the room, but now they couldn’t resist chiming in. Your dad, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin, was the first to speak.

“Well”, he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at this. The mighty Soldier Boy, the man who could take on armies single-handedly, now sitting here feeding a little baby girl. Never thought I’d see the day”.

Ben glanced up from Aria, his green eyes narrowing slightly as his smirk turned sharp. “You got something to say, old man?”, he shot back, though his tone carried more humor than heat. “’Cause I can still take you in five seconds flat”.

Your dad raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just saying. Big change from the guy who used to storm into rooms and bark orders like he owned the place”.

You couldn’t help but join in, the warmth of the moment giving you just enough energy to speak up. “Oh, come on, Dad”, you said, your voice soft but teasing. “He still storms into rooms and barks orders. Now he just does it with a baby bottle in his hand”.

Ben turned his sharp green eyes on you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”, he asked, his tone flat but tinged with humor. “You’re fucking ganging up on me now?”.

You grinned weakly, resting your head back against the pillows. “What can I say? You’re too easy to tease”.

Your mom, never one to miss an opportunity, chimed in. “She’s right. You’ve got that whole tough-guy act going, but look at you now. Feeding a baby with more concentration than I’ve ever seen you give anything else”.

Ben scoffed, his smirk returning as he glanced down at Aria, who had slowed her feeding, her tiny fingers brushing against his hand. “This is more important than anything else I’ve ever done”, he said simply, his voice low but firm. “Doesn’t mean I won’t put you all in your place if you keep running your mouths”.

Your dad laughed, shaking his head. “You’re outnumbered, Ben”, he said with a grin. “You might as well just take it”.

“Oh, I’m taking it”, Ben muttered, adjusting the bottle slightly as Aria squirmed in his arms. “But don’t forget, I’ve got the kid. That means I’ve got all the leverage”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your tired body shaking slightly. “You’re really using our baby as leverage?”.

Ben smirked, finally glancing up at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Damn right I am”, he said. “And it’s working”.

Your mom shook her head, though she was smiling as she leaned back in her chair. “Unbelievable”, she muttered, though the affection in her voice was unmistakable. “You know, for all your bluster, you’re doing a pretty good job”.

Ben’s expression softened slightly as he looked back down at Aria, her tiny body cradled securely in his large hands. “Yeah, well”, he said gruffly, his voice quieter now. “Not like I’m gonna let her down”.

The teasing paused for a moment, the atmosphere shifting into something softer, more tender. You reached out weakly, your hand brushing against Ben’s arm. “You won’t”, you whispered, your voice full of quiet conviction. “You’re already her hero”.

Ben’s smirk faded as he glanced back down at Aria, his green eyes clouding with something heavier. He shifted slightly, adjusting her tiny frame in his arms, and you saw his jaw tighten for a moment before he muttered, almost too quietly, “I hope it stays that way”.

The weight of his words lingered in the air, cutting through the teasing warmth from earlier. You knew what he meant, even if he didn’t say it outright. Ben carried the shadows of his past with him, the weight of every mistake, every regret. Now, holding Aria in his arms, the stakes felt higher than anything he’d ever faced before.

“It will”, you said softly, your hand still resting on his arm. “Ben, look at her. She already adores you”.

Ben’s lips twitched, the heaviness in his eyes retreating as he quickly composed himself. “Yeah”, he muttered, his voice gruff but edged with his usual dry humor. “That’s ‘cause I feed her. Same with you. Give a woman a little attention and some snacks, and she’s all putty”.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you nudged his arm weakly. “Oh, is that how it works? All this time, you’ve been keeping me around with snacks?”.

Ben shrugged, smirking now as he glanced at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Toss you a bag of chips, rub your feet for five minutes, and suddenly I’m your favorite person”.

Your dad snorted from his chair, shaking his head as he leaned back. “Sounds about right”, he said with a grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “Though I wouldn’t go throwing that strategy around too much, Ben. Works on my daughter, but not everyone’s that easy”.

“Who said I’m looking for it to work on anyone else?”, Ben shot back smoothly, adjusting Aria in his arms as she began to squirm. “Got my hands full already”.

"You better”, you murmured, your voice soft but teasing as you leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his biceps. The gesture was small, but it carried all the affection you couldn’t quite put into words at the moment.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at where your lips had just been before looking back at you, his smirk widening into something more cocky. “Oh, so now we’re kissing the muscles?”, he drawled, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Didn’t think I needed the snacks after all”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head, tough guy. It’s a one-time deal”.

“Sure it is”, he shot back, his tone as smooth as ever. “Let me guess—next time you’ll be asking me to… flex”.

Your dad groaned loudly, leaning back in his chair. “Can you two not?”, he said, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “We’re right here, you know”.

Your mom chuckled softly, shaking her head as she moved to check on the blanket around Aria. “Oh, let them have their moment”, she said lightly, her voice full of affection. “It’s not every day you see Ben being soft”.

Ben’s smirk faded just slightly, and he glanced down at Aria, her tiny body nestled against him. His hand moved instinctively to adjust her position, his large fingers brushing against her cheek with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place for someone like him.

“Not soft”, he muttered under his breath, his tone gruff but quiet. “Just… doing what needs to be done”.

A week later, the day you’d been waiting for finally arrived—you were allowed to go home. The hospital’s walls, though safe, had started to feel suffocating, and the thought of being back in your own space brought a mix of relief and excitement. The extra doses of V in your system had done their job, leaving you feeling stronger, though you were still told to take it easy and rest as much as possible. Ben, of course, had taken that advice to heart—perhaps too much.

As you stood outside the hospital, the crisp air brushing against your face, Ben hovered close. He carried Aria’s car seat in one hand, her tiny body snug inside and wrapped in the soft blanket your mom had brought. She was dressed in the onesie Ben had insisted on—Daddy’s Little Soldier scrawled across the front in bold letters. It was equal parts adorable and hilariously on-brand for him.

With his other hand, Ben steadied you, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Take it slow”, he muttered, his green eyes scanning your face like he was waiting for you to wobble or stumble. “Last thing we need is you fucking face-planting before we even get to the car”.

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile. “I’m fine, Ben. I can walk, you know”.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your attempt at downplaying things. “Sure you can”, he said dryly. “Until you can’t. Humor me, sweetheart”.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning into his steady presence as you made your way to the car. The last week had been a whirlwind of checkups, adjustments, and learning how to navigate this new chapter of your lives. Both you and Aria had appointments lined up for the coming weeks—Dr. Collins wanted to monitor you closely—but for today, all that mattered was getting home.

Ben carefully secured Aria’s car seat in the back, double-checking every strap and latch like it was a bomb he was defusing. “She’s good”, he muttered after a final tug on the seatbelt. Then he turned back to you, his hand on your back as he guided you toward the passenger seat. “Alright, your turn”.

You slid into the seat carefully, watching as he shut the door with one last glance at you, his expression unreadable. By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat, he seemed a little more relaxed, though his hand still rested protectively on the center console as if he needed to stay connected to you somehow.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of the car engine and Aria’s soft breaths filling the space. You glanced back at her occasionally, your heart swelling every time you saw her tiny face nestled in the seat. Ben caught you looking in the rearview mirror and smirked. “Told you”, he said, his tone smug. “She’s got that effect”.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the sight of home made you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Ben got out first, unbuckling Aria with the same care he’d used earlier. He carried her in one hand, her car seat swinging slightly as he reached out to steady you with the other.

As you walked toward the door together, a warm sense of peace settled over you. It wasn’t going to be easy—between the constant monitoring, the sleepless nights, and your slow recovery, you knew challenges lay ahead. But standing there with Ben at your side, steady as always, and Aria cradled in his strong arms, you felt ready to face whatever came next.

“Welcome home, chicken”, Ben murmured as he stepped inside, glancing down at Aria with a faint smirk. Then, without missing a beat, he looked at you. “You too, sweetheart”.

Ben gently placed the car seat on the table, his movements careful yet efficient. Without missing a beat, he leaned over and unfastened the straps, muttering something under his breath about “overcomplicated baby gear”. In one swift motion, he scooped Aria up, her tiny body practically disappearing against his broad chest as he cradled her securely in his massive hands.

Her head rested just below his chin, and he instinctively adjusted the blanket around her, ensuring she was covered and snug. From where you sat, it was hard not to smile at the sight—Ben, the man who used to intimidate everyone in his path, now completely wrapped up in this impossibly tiny person.

“She’s barely visible”, you teased softly, watching him fuss over her like he’d been doing it for years. “It’s like you’re holding a little bird”.

“Yeah, well, this bird’s got some issues”, he grumbled, his tone low but tinged with affection. He shifted her slightly, trying to adjust her scrunched-up legs. “Look at these”, he muttered, his large hand carefully nudging at her tiny feet. “I keep trying to straighten them out, but no—she just folds ‘em right back up”.

You laughed softly, the sound warming the room. “She’s comfortable like that”, you said, leaning back against the cushions. “She spent months curled up inside me. It’s natural”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Aria’s legs as she wriggled slightly, pulling them back into that familiar scrunched-up position. “Natural, huh?”, he said, his tone laced with mock skepticism. “Looks like a lazy workout to me. She’s gonna need to start stretching eventually. Can’t walk around like this forever”.

“She’s a newborn, Ben”, you said, shaking your head with amusement. “She’s got time before she starts walking”.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get her started early”, he shot back, his smirk widening as he carefully rocked her against his chest. “Discipline, sweetheart. Starts young”.

Aria let out a soft little coo, her tiny fists brushing against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened instantly. His hand came up to cup her head, his thumb brushing lightly over her soft hair. “Alright, fine”, he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You can keep the legs. For now… chicken”.

Ben held Aria close, her tiny head resting snugly against his chest as he began to slowly walk through the house. His steps were steady and purposeful, like he was showing her around his kingdom. One of his large hands supported her completely, her little body barely taking up any space in his grasp.

“Alright”, he muttered, his tone gruff but oddly gentle, “let’s give you the grand tour. Don’t say I never taught you anything”.

You watched from the couch, a soft smile spreading across your face as Ben moved into the living room first. He glanced down at Aria, as though she was fully capable of understanding him, and gestured toward the room with his free hand.

“This is where your mom makes me watch her boring shows”, he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of affection and teasing. “But don’t worry, I’ll get you into the classics. Stuff that actually matters. None of that soap opera garbage”.

He moved over to the fireplace, pointing it out with a slight nod. “And this? That’s a fireplace. Not much use for it, but it looks good. One day, I’ll teach you how to build a real fire. Just don’t try it without me, alright? Don’t need you burning the place down”.

Aria let out a tiny coo, her hands twitching against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened slightly. “Yeah, I get it. Fire’s exciting. But it’s a dad job. Got it?”.

He moved into the kitchen next, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as he glanced around. “Now, this is where the magic happens”, he said, shifting her slightly so she could ‘see’ the counters and appliances. “When I say magic, I mean snacks. Real snacks, not the mush you’re stuck with for now”.

Ben smirked as he shifted Aria slightly in his arms, his green eyes flicking to you lounging on the couch. “Now, your mom makes some pretty good food”, he began, his tone casual, but that mischievous glint in his eyes warned you he was about to say something completely inappropriate. “Well, at least when I’ve made sure she’s in a really good mood, you know… like after I’ve—”.

“Ben!”, you interrupted sharply, your cheeks instantly heating as you glared at him. “Not in front of Aria!”.

Ben rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he adjusted Aria in his arms, her tiny form cradled carefully against his chest. “If it starts like this”, he muttered, his voice dripping with mock misery, “I’m gonna have a fucking boring life now. No making out, no sex, no dirty—”.

Before he could finish, you grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his back with surprising accuracy. The soft thud interrupted him mid-sentence, and he froze for a moment before slowly turning his head to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Really?”, he drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re resorting to violence now?”.

“You deserved it”, you shot back, trying to look stern despite the grin tugging at your lips. “You can’t just say stuff like that with her right there!”.

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to Aria. “Relax, sweetheart”, he said, his tone light and teasing. “She doesn’t even know what I’m saying. Right now, she’s just focused on staying warm and waiting for her next bottle”.

You crossed your arms, still glaring at him half-heartedly. “Still, it’s the principle of the thing. And besides, I don’t want her first words to be one of your… colorful phrases”.

Ben let out a low laugh, rocking Aria slightly in his arms as she let out a soft coo. “Fine”, he said, smirking down at her. “Guess I’ll have to keep it PG, at least for now. Don’t want the chicken getting any bad habits too early”.

You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself, watching the way he cradled her with such care, his massive hands dwarfing her tiny form. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you muttered, though your voice was full of affection.

“And yet”, Ben replied, shooting you a cocky grin, “you still keep me around. Must be doing something right”.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you leaned back against the cushions. Despite his teasing and his larger-than-life personality, moments like this reminded you why you loved him—because beneath all of it, he was completely devoted to you and your daughter. Even if he couldn’t resist being a smartass about it.

Ben, still smirking, adjusted Aria in his arms and stood up straighter, resuming his slow tour of the house. “Alright”, he muttered, his voice full of mock authority, “let’s get back to it. Your mom’s already trying to ruin the fun, but I’ve got plenty more to show you”.

He started toward the hallway, his large frame moving with surprising gentleness to keep Aria comfortable. “This”, he said, pointing to the hallway closet, “is where we keep all the boring stuff. Towels, blankets, random crap your mom insists we need but never actually uses. Don’t worry about this place; you’ll have no reason to come here unless you’re hiding from me because you broke something”.

You let out a laugh from the couch. “Ben, she’s a baby, not a teenager. And I don’t hoard random crap”.

He glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve got six throw blankets in there. Who needs six throw blankets? What are we, a Bed Bath & Beyond?”.

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless as he turned back to Aria.

Ben moved into the bathroom next, gesturing grandly at the space as though it were some kind of palace. “This is the bathroom”, he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The one place in this house where I can pretend to get some peace. But don’t worry, I know you’re gonna ruin that soon enough with bath toys and splashing everywhere. It’s fine. I’ll allow it”.

Aria let out a tiny sound, her little fists brushing against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened. “See? She’s already planning it”, he muttered, rocking her gently. “It’s a mutiny in the making”.

When he moved into the nursery, his pace slowed slightly, and his voice dropped to something quieter, almost reverent. “And this”, he murmured, stepping inside, “is your room”.

Ben stepped further into the nursery, his eyes scanning the soft pastels and delicate decorations you’d worked so hard to perfect. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, shifting Aria slightly against his chest as he muttered, “You’re definitely not the boy I was hoping for, so I bet soon enough everything in here’s gonna be fucking pink”.

Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her tiny head, his lips brushing over the soft, dark hair that barely covered her scalp. The touch was so light, so careful, like he was afraid to break her.

Aria reacted instantly, scrunching up her face and letting out a series of funny little noises—somewhere between a squeak and a grunt. Ben froze, his green eyes widening slightly as he looked down at her.

Then, he snorted, a rare, genuine laugh slipping out as he stared down at Aria. “What the hell was that?”, he muttered, his green eyes narrowing playfully as he adjusted her in his arms. “Did you just grunt at me, chicken? You trying to tell me something?”.

Aria squirmed again, letting out another little noise, her tiny fists flailing for a moment before settling back against his chest. Ben smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable”, he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “Not even a month old, and already got opinions”.

From the doorway, you watched the scene unfold, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Slowly, you stepped into the room, your movements careful but deliberate as you made your way toward them. “What’s going on in here?”, you asked gently, your voice light and teasing. “Is she giving you a hard time already?”.

Ben glanced up at you, his smirk widening as he met your eyes. “You didn’t tell me she made noises like that”, he said, jerking his chin toward Aria. “She’s got this little grunt thing going on. Sounds like she’s trying to talk, but all she’s got is… whatever that was”.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you moved closer. “She’s just figuring out how to use her voice”, you said, leaning against the edge of the crib for support. “She’s probably trying to tell you she doesn’t appreciate being called a chicken”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning mischievous. “Oh, no, she loves it. Don’t you, chicken?”. He kissed her head again, and Aria let out another funny little grunt, making him snort. “See? That’s her way of agreeing with me”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”.

“Damn right I do”, Ben replied, shifting Aria slightly so she was cradled more securely in his arms. “And right now, the answer is that this kid’s already got some serious attitude. Wonder where she gets it from”.

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned a little closer to him. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea”, you teased. “But I don’t think it’s from me”.

Without warning, his free hand shot out, giving your ass a quick, playful pinch.

“Hey!”, you yelped, jumping slightly, though the corners of your mouth twitched with amusement.

He raised an eyebrow, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he muttered, “Why aren’t you all cozy on the couch, like the doc told you?”.

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his hand half-heartedly. “Because I wanted to see what you were up to”, you shot back, though your voice was softened by the affection you couldn’t quite hide. “Someone’s gotta make sure you’re not teaching her bad habits already”.

Ben snorted, glancing down at Aria as she let out another tiny grunt, her little face scrunching up. “Bad habits?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with mock offense. “This kid’s got nothing but good habits so far. She eats, sleeps, and grunts. Perfect little soldier in the making”.

You shook your head, leaning against the edge of the crib for support. “She’s a baby, not a recruit”.

“She can be both”, Ben quipped, his smirk turning cocky. “Gotta start her early. Discipline, structure, and—”. He paused as Aria squirmed in his arms again, making another funny noise. “And apparently, opinions. You’ve got a lot to say, huh, chicken?”.

You smiled, watching the way he cradled her so effortlessly despite his teasing demeanor. “You know”, you said softly, “you’re a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for”.

Ben glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment before he shrugged. “Yeah, well”, he muttered, “you’re not making it easy to slack off. Always watching me like a hawk”.

“That’s my job”, you teased, reaching out to brush your fingers lightly against Aria’s tiny hand. “Just like it’s your job to make sure I actually rest”.

Ben smirked again, stepping closer and tilting his head slightly. “Then get your ass back to the couch”, he said, his voice low but full of amusement. “I’m not carrying both of you if you pass out”.

“Bossy”, you muttered, but you turned to head back to the couch, a small smile still tugging at your lips as you felt his gaze follow you the whole way.

As the evening settled in, the moment arrived for Aria’s first bath. You sat on the small bench next to the bathtub, watching as Ben crouched by the tub, his large hands fumbling with the tiny buttons and snaps of Aria’s onesie. The bathroom was warm—too warm, thanks to the extra steam from the hot water—and you noticed beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as he worked.

Aria, of course, wasn’t making it easy. Her scrunched-up legs were once again causing problems, folding up tightly every time Ben tried to stretch them out to get her undressed. He huffed under his breath, his green eyes narrowing as though trying to out-stubborn her.

“Come on, chicken”, he muttered, his voice low but strained. “You’re not making this easy. What’s with the damn legs? Just… cooperate for once”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your smile growing as you watched him struggle. “I didn’t know supes could sweat like this”, you teased, leaning forward slightly to get a better view of his efforts. “You okay there, tough guy? Need me to grab you a towel?”.

Ben shot you a glare, though it was more playful than threatening. “It’s hot as hell in here”, he grumbled, finally managing to undo the last snap. “And this kid’s got more fight in her than half the cocksucker I’ve gone up against”.

You bit back a laugh, watching as he carefully peeled the onesie off of Aria, her tiny body wriggling slightly as she let out a soft coo. “She’s just testing you”, you said, leaning back against the wall. “Making sure her dad can handle the tough stuff”.

Ben snorted, tossing the tiny onesie into the laundry pile before cradling Aria in his hands. “Tough stuff”, he muttered, glancing at her scrunched-up legs as though they were mocking him.

Aria let out a tiny squeak, her fists flailing slightly, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter this time. “You’re doing fine”, you said reassuringly.

Ben carefully lowered Aria into the warm water, his hands cradling her tiny body with surprising gentleness. The moment her skin touched the water, she let out a soft coo, her little fists waving in the air as though testing this new sensation.

But almost immediately, Ben let out a frustrated grumble, his brows furrowing. “Why the hell is she so slippery?”, he muttered, trying to keep a steady grip on her. “It’s like trying to hold onto a bar of soap”.

You bit back a laugh, watching as his large hands adjusted awkwardly to keep Aria secure. “She’s got soft skin. Add water, and yeah, she’s going to be slippery”, you said, your voice full of amusement

Ben narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not appreciating the humor in the situation. “No one warned me about this”, he grumbled, his tone edged with irritation. “They just said, ‘Oh, give her a bath, it’ll be fine’. Didn’t say a damn word about her turning into a little greased-up chicken”.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, the sound filling the warm bathroom as you watched him struggle. “Greased-up chicken?”, you echoed, wiping a tear from your eye. “Ben, you’ve fought villains, survived explosions, and dealt with God knows what else. And now you’re losing to a baby in a bathtub?”.

Ben’s green eyes snapped to yours, his glare sharp but tinged with amusement. “I’m not losing”, he shot back, though his hands shifted again as Aria squirmed slightly in the water. “I’m just… figuring it out. She’s squirmier than I expected”.

Aria let out a tiny hiccup of a sound, her legs kicking slightly against the water, splashing a bit onto Ben’s shirt. He groaned, glaring down at her. “See? Slippery and messy”, he muttered. “You’re a lot of work for someone who doesn’t even pay rent”.

“She’s your daughter”, you teased, still grinning. “You signed up for this”.

Ben sighed dramatically, one hand gently supporting Aria’s back while the other carefully poured a little water over her head with a washcloth. “Yeah, yeah”, he muttered, his tone softening as he focused on her again. “Guess I did”.

You watched as his expression shifted, the irritation melting away as he gently wiped her tiny face with the cloth, his large hands so careful it was almost mesmerizing. Despite all his grumbling, there was a tenderness in the way he handled her—a rare side of Ben that you knew was reserved for the two of you.

Eventually, the chaos of the evening began to wind down. Aria, freshly bathed and swaddled in her soft blanket, had finally drifted off to sleep. You and Ben made your way to the couch, exhaustion tugging at both of you. Ben collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, his arm slung over the back of the couch as though he’d just fought a battle—which, in a way, he had.

You nestled beside him, your body fitting perfectly into his side as his arm instinctively wrapped around your shoulders. Aria rested on your chest, her tiny body curled up and her soft breaths barely audible. She looked utterly peaceful, completely unaware of the exhaustion she’d inflicted on both of you.

Ben tilted his head back against the couch, letting out a long exhale as his eyes closed for a moment. “That kid’s got more energy than I thought was possible for something that tiny”, he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

You chuckled softly, leaning into him as your fingers brushed over Aria’s blanket. “She wore you out, didn’t she?”, you teased, glancing up at him with a small smile. “Mighty Soldier Boy, taken down by a four-pound baby”.

Ben let out a low, tired chuckle, his lips twitching into a faint smirk even as his eyes remained closed. “I’m so tired I won’t even fight you on that right now”, he muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You win. Congratulations”.

You smiled, your heart swelling at the rare moment of vulnerability he allowed himself. Leaning into him, you let out a soft sigh, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “Thank you”.

His eyes cracked open, and he glanced down at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”, he asked, his tone curious but still laced with exhaustion.

“For everything”, you said simply, your fingers brushing over Aria’s tiny hand where it peeked out from the blanket. “For being here. For taking care of us. For… being you”.

Ben didn’t respond immediately, his green eyes studying your face like he was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he shook his head slightly, his smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “Don’t get all fucking sappy on me now”, he muttered, though his hand tightened slightly around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

You ignored his teasing, your gaze steady as you whispered, “I love you, Ben”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Yeah”, he said softly, his voice unusually gentle. “I love you too”.

The words, so simple but so weighty coming from him, settled between you like an anchor, grounding you in the moment. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as Aria shifted slightly in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her tiny lips.

As the quiet of the evening wrapped around you, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t experienced in months. Despite the chaos, the exhaustion, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, you knew one thing for sure: you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Ben and Aria, tangled together on the couch, your little family whole and complete.

Another week passed, and with it came the small victories that felt monumental after everything you’d been through. At just two weeks old, Aria was thriving, and you were finally starting to feel like yourself again—though not entirely. You were allowed to take on little tasks now, like showering by yourself and even changing Aria’s diaper, but Ben kept a close watch, ensuring you didn’t overdo it.

It was barely three in the morning when Aria’s cries echoed through the bedroom, pulling you from a light, restless sleep. Her wails were sharp and insistent, the unmistakable demand of a newborn needing something now.

You stirred, your body still heavy with exhaustion but far stronger than it had been days ago. Instinctively, you moved to sit up, but before you could even swing your legs over the side of the bed, Ben was already on his feet.

“I’ve got it”, he muttered, his voice rough with sleep as he rubbed a hand over his face. His green eyes were bleary, but his movements were steady as he crossed the room to the bassinet where Aria lay squirming and crying.

“Ben, I can—”, you began, but he shot you a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched in a way that silenced you instantly.

“Don’t start”, he said gruffly, leaning down to scoop Aria up with practiced ease. “You’re still on light duty. Stay fucking put”.

You sighed, sinking back against the pillows as you watched him cradle Aria against his chest. She was still crying, her tiny fists flailing as Ben swayed slightly, his large hand patting her back in a rhythm that was becoming second nature to him.

“Alright, chicken”, he murmured, his voice softer now as he paced slowly across the room. “What’s the deal this time? Hungry? Wet? Or just in the mood to torture me?”.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled at the sight of him—shirtless, his hair mussed from sleep, and his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and adoration as he comforted your daughter. It was a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it made your heart swell every time.

“She probably needs a diaper change”, you said softly, your voice breaking the quiet hum of the moment.

Ben let out a low sigh, glancing down at the squirming bundle in his arms. “Of course she does”, he muttered. “Kid’s got perfect timing”.

He carried Aria over to the changing table, his movements surprisingly fluid for someone who looked like he’d barely slept in days. You couldn’t help but watch as he carefully laid her down, his large hands working with more patience than you’d ever seen from him.

“She’s lucky I’m a quick learner”, he grumbled, unfastening her tiny onesie with deft fingers. “I could’ve left all this to you, you know. But no, I’m here, in the trenches, dealing with the fucking chaos”.

“You love it”, you teased, your smile widening as you rested your head against the headboard.

Ben glanced at you, his smirk returning briefly before he turned back to Aria. “Yeah", he muttered under his breath, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “Maybe I do”.

As he worked, Aria’s cries began to fade, replaced by soft little hiccups and whimpers. By the time he’d finished changing her, she was calm, her wide eyes blinking up at him as though she was sizing him up.

Ben picked her up again, cradling her against his chest as he walked back toward the bed. “There”, he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and weariness. “Crisis averted. For now”.

You held out your arms, silently asking to hold her, and Ben hesitated for a moment before carefully placing her in your lap. “You sure you’re good?”, he asked, his tone serious despite the softness in his eyes.

You nodded, cradling Aria close as you brushed a kiss against her tiny forehead. “I’m good”, you said softly.

Ben had barely let his eyes close, his body finally relaxing into the bed, when the sound of Aria sucking on her pacifier like her life depended on it filled the room. The soft, rhythmic noise was unmistakable and persistent, her tiny mouth working furiously as though trying to send a very clear signal.

His eyes opened slowly, a low groan escaping him as he turned his head toward you and Aria. “She’s at it again”, he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. “What’s the deal this time?”.

You shifted slightly in bed, cradling Aria closer as you glanced down at her. Even in the dim light, you could see her little fists clenching, her face scrunching up as she worked the pacifier. “She’s hungry”, you murmured, already knowing the routine. “It’s time”.

Ben’s brow furrowed, but he sat up a little, glancing at you. “You sure you’re good for this? You just started back up yesterday. I can grab a bottle if you need me to”.

You smiled softly, touched by his concern, even as your body still felt the pull of exhaustion. “I’m okay”, you said quietly. “The doctor said nights are the best time for this. Less moving around for me”.

Ben still looked unconvinced, his green eyes scanning your face for any sign of strain. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Fine”, he said gruffly, though his tone carried a thread of warmth.

You carefully adjusted yourself, pulling down your bra with practiced movements, and gently guided Aria toward you. The instant she latched on, her tiny body relaxed, and the urgent sucking noises filled the quiet room. You exhaled softly, the familiar but still slightly uncomfortable sensation making you wince for just a moment.

Ben, sitting up beside you, watched the scene with a lazy smirk spreading across his face. His green eyes glinted in the dim light, and you knew exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“Well”, he drawled, leaning back against the headboard with a smug expression, “if I’d known that’s how it works, I would’ve cried louder”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small laugh that bubbled out of you. “Ben”, you said, your tone half-scolding but mostly amused. “Really?”.

“What?”, he said, feigning innocence as his smirk widened. “I’m just saying, if I make the same noises, maybe I get the same treatment”.

"Oh shut up”, you grumbled, shooting Ben a halfhearted glare as you tried to focus on Aria. The smirk on his face only widened, and he let out a low snort of amusement.

“Touchy”, he muttered, his tone still dripping with teasing. “Guess that means no tits for me”.

Before you could retort, a sharp, unexpected pain made you gasp softly. Aria, without teeth but somehow managing to pinch your nipple with surprising force, had bitten down. “Ow, ow, ow”, you whined, shifting slightly to try to adjust her latch. “Aria, no, no biting”.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up, and his smirk morphed into something closer to a grin as he leaned closer. “She bit you?”, he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and amusement. “Already? Kid’s got a mean streak, huh?”.

You glared at him through the pain, wincing as you carefully pulled Aria off for a moment to reposition her. “It’s not funny, Ben”, you grumbled, though your flushed cheeks betrayed a touch of embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s a little funny”, he countered, leaning his head back against the headboard as he watched you.

As soon as you pulled Aria off to adjust her, her tiny face scrunched up, and within seconds, a loud wail echoed through the room. Her little fists flailed in protest, and her cries escalated as if she were starving and the world was ending simultaneously.

“Great”, you muttered, sighing as you tried to calm her down.

Ben chuckled, clearly amused by the dramatic display. “She’s got your attitude”, he said, smirking. “No patience, immediate outrage when she doesn’t get what she wants. Yeah, definitely takes after you”.

———————————

A/N: We're getting closer to saying goodbye... Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3 @fallout-girl219 @whump-loverz

[mylovesstuffs]

Ot13 and what scares them about love

Request: Hey can u do a headcanon ot13: what scares them about being in love.. or love in general? (Like not being enough, losing control, potential heartbreak… smth like that) thanks a lot:)))

A/N: I added the little bullet notes under each member’s part just in case any of you have similar fears—so that you can be reassured that there’s nothing to be afraid of. Personally, I struggle with the fear of being hard to love. It’s something deeply ingrained in me, though I won’t elaborate further. I just wanted you all to feel a little better. At the end of the day, these notes aren’t really for the members (as if they'll see this lol)—they’re for you. This headcanon (sorta) felt surprisingly personal, and writing it made me reflect on so many things about life and love in general. To the anon who requested this, thank you. Your idea was truly unique, and it gave me a space to pause, think, and see things from a different perspective of svt and others.

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol – The Fear of Failing as a Partner

How I see him is that, he carries a deep sense of responsibility, and that extends to love too. His biggest fear is not being able to protect or take care of his partner the way he wants to. He worries about not being emotionally available or strong enough when they need him most. The idea of letting someone down, especially someone he loves, weighs heavily on him.

Seungcheol, you’re doing your absolute best, and that’s more than enough. Your love is a safe space, and no one could ever doubt the strength you bring to those around you.

Jeonghan – The Fear of Losing Himself

Love is beautiful, but it’s also consuming. Jeonghan fears that being in love might make him lose parts of himself—his independence, his ability to make rational choices, or even his sense of control. He’s afraid of how much power someone else could have over his emotions, especially since he’s always the one in control of his own heart.

Love doesn’t mean losing yourself. The right person will embrace all of you, allowing you to be both independent and deeply connected. You don’t have to choose between the two.

Joshua – The Fear of Unreciprocated Effort

I feel like he’s the type to love deeply, wholeheartedly, and unconditionally. But what scares him is the possibility of loving someone more than they love him. He fears investing everything into a relationship, only to find out that his feelings are not returned in the same way. He doesn’t want to be left wondering if he was ever truly enough.

Shua, you are more than enough. Any love you give will be returned in full measure. You’re so kind and caring, and someone who sees you for who you are will love you deeply in return.

Jun – The Fear of Being Misunderstood

Jun is a deep thinker, and his emotions often run slowly beneath the surface. He worries that no matter how much he loves someone, they might never truly understand him. He’s scared of feeling alone in a relationship, of opening up completely and still not being seen for who he truly is.

The right person will understand you in ways you never imagined. Your depth is so precious, and there are people who will cherish every part of who you are.

Hoshi – The Fear of Love Fading

Love, to him, should always be full of passion and excitement. But he fears that over time, feelings might dull, routines might set in, and the relationship could become something ordinary. He wants love to always feel exhilarating, and the thought of it losing its spark terrifies him.

The most beautiful love grows even stronger with time, and the quiet moments are just as powerful as the loud ones.

Wonwoo – The Fear of Not Being Enough

Wonwoo is reserved, and deeply introspective. He worries that he won’t be able to express love in the way his partner needs. He’s afraid that his way of loving through actions rather than words, might not be enough. The idea of someone wanting more than he can give haunts him.

Wonwoo, your love is already enough. The way you care, through your actions and your presence, speaks volumes. Anyone who truly understands you will appreciate the depth of your heart.

Woozi – The Fear of Losing His Dreams for Love

As we all know, he’s very dedicated to his craft and his passion for music runs deep. While he’s capable of deep love, he fears that being in love might take away the time and energy he’s poured into his dreams. He doesn’t want to choose between love and ambition, but he’s afraid that, in the end, one might have to come before the other.

The right person will support and inspire you to keep chasing your passions while loving you in the most meaningful way.

Dokyeom – The Fear of Hurting or Disappointing Someone

Seokmin has such a big heart, and his worst fear is accidentally hurting someone he loves. He always wants to be a source of happiness, but relationships aren’t always perfect, and the thought of being the reason for someone’s pain is unbearable to him.

Kyeom, your heart is pure, and your love only brings joy to those around you. Anyone who is with you will feel lucky to have such a loving and kind soul in their life.

Mingyu – The Fear of Being Too Much

He loves intensely, and sometimes, that can feel overwhelming. Mingyu worries that his enthusiasm, his affection, and his deep emotions might be too much for someone to handle. He’s scared of loving someone with all his heart, only to be told that it’s suffocating.

Gyu :(( your love is perfect just the way it is. No one will ever think you’re too much. You are a warm, bright presence, and the right person will embrace all of that with open arms.

Minghao – The Fear of Losing Freedom

Love is beautiful (2), but Minghao values his independence. He worries about feeling trapped or restricted in a relationship, about losing the ability to chase his own passions freely. He wants to love without feeling like he has to compromise parts of himself.

The right person will love and respect your freedom while still sharing in your journey together.

Seungkwan – The Fear of Heartbreak

He loves hard, and he knows that means he has the most to lose. The thought of giving his whole heart to someone only to have it broken is terrifying. He’s scared of the kind of pain that lingers, the kind that changes a person forever.

Kwannie, your heart is strong enough to handle anything. Love will come with its ups and downs, but your ability to heal and grow will make you even stronger, and you will find a love that never breaks you.

Vernon – The Fear of Not Being Able to Express Himself

Vernon thinks deeply but doesn’t always voice everything he feels. He fears that his inability to always put his emotions into words might make his partner feel unappreciated or uncertain about his love. He doesn’t want to lose someone just because he couldn’t say the right things at the right time.

Anyone who truly cares for you will understand the depth of your feelings, even in silence. You don’t need to explain everything—you show it.

Dino – The Fear of Not Being Taken Seriously

As the youngest in svt, he’s used to being seen as playful and energetic and his partner will also know this persona just like we do. But in love, he wants to be seen as a dependable partner. He fears that no matter how much he matures, there will always be a part of him that people don’t take seriously. He doesn’t want to be seen as a ‘kid’ in love—he wants to be seen as someone who can love deeply and be a strong, steady presence in his partner’s life.

Dino, your maturity is not measured by age but by the love you give. Anyone who loves you will see the depth of your heart and appreciate the amazing, steady partner you are.

[chleem]

request idea? thinking about how Drew would drop everything for his girl ❤️‍🔥 like if she showed up at his house crying because she needs him (something with her parents or something? maybe they forgot something important to her)

and Drew is with his roommates or friends (who love the reader) but as soon as he sees his girl sad, he has a soft spot for her and for taking care of her 🫶🏼

⋆.˚ Warnings: none, pure fluff (still, read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: enjoy! sry i haven't replied for so long, i was spending cny w/my family.

word count: 2.2k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

The sound of the basketball game is practically vibrating through the walls—close to the end, with the score tied and everyone on edge. 

Drew’s lounging on the couch, leaning back, eyes glued to the screen. 

The room is full of his friends, all hyped up, throwing out their commentary and joking around. It’s guys’ night, and it’s a vibe they’re all soaking in.

Then the doorbell rings for the second time tonight, and Drew’s eyes flicker to the door.

"Did we order pizza? Again?" Drew asks. 

“Dunno, man, check,” his friend says, not looking up from the game, clearly too invested. 

Drew sighs, a little annoyed at the interruption, but his feet move automatically toward the door.

When Drew opens the door, he doesn’t see pizza. 

He sees you.

His expression shifts instantly—his confusion giving way to something deeper. 

Drew notices the smudge of mascara under your eyes first—the dark lines trailing down your cheeks. The rest of your makeup isn’t much better: foundation starting to fade where the tears have blurred it, the eyeliner long gone from where it used to frame your eyes.

His heart skips a beat. The noise from the game and his friends’ laughter suddenly feel miles away, as if the room has gone quiet in an instant.

Then, through your teary eyes and blushed cheeks, you give him a smile. It’s weak, almost forced, but you try. You shrug your shoulders, like you're attempting to downplay whatever’s hurting you.

“Hey, Joseph,” you say, your voice cracking just enough that Drew hears it. Your smile fades, and the act you’re trying to put on crumbles just a little.

Drew’s heart sinks. He knows you too well. The moment you said his name like that—broken and vulnerable—he realizes just how much you’re holding back.

Without a word, Drew steps closer.

The easy-going grin he had on earlier is gone. His brows furrowed with concern as he reaches for you, hands cupping your cheeks. 

He holds you gently, but firmly—like he's grounding you, keeping you steady.

His gaze softens, and he watches, helpless for a second, as the first tear escapes and trails down your cheek. His heart aches seeing you like this.

His eyes never leave yours, and there’s an unspoken promise in them—I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

When you speak again, the apology slips out almost before you can stop it. “I’m sorry…” you start, feeling bad for interrupting his night with his friends.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” He says, as if he’s trying to erase that sense of guilt before it can settle in. 

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, “don’t ever apologize for needing me.”

He takes a moment, watching your eyes carefully, making sure you understand that he means it. There’s no disappointment in his gaze—only warmth, care, and an overwhelming need to protect you from whatever’s hurting.

Your eyes flicker away, sparkling with unshed tears as you struggle to catch your breath, trying to muffle the cries threatening to break free.

“It’s just- it’s just my parents-“

Your words falter as his friends cheer loudly in the background, their excitement rising with each point scored in the game. 

Drew notices immediately—your discomfort, the way you're struggling to open up in this moment—and it hits him: you’re still standing out in the hallway, exposed to everything.

“Let’s, let’s get inside,” he murmurs. He doesn’t need to say more than that—his hands move to your shoulders, guiding you toward his room, tell you everything.

His friends, too absorbed in the game, don’t notice the subtle shift in the air. They’re still yelling at the screen, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend has showed up crying. 

As he leads you down the hall, you finally feel the air change—calmer, quieter. 

The second the door of Drew’s room closes behind you, the outside world fades.

Unknowingly, you’ve sat down at the edge of his bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. 

Drew quietly moves around his room, as he finds a box of tissues on his dresser. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though—watching the way you sit, the way your shoulders shake with each breath, how your chest rises and falls, unevenly.

Once he hands it to you, Drew settles beside you. His arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you closer but not forcing you.

He listens carefully to the soft hiccups that escape from you, tiny gasps caught in the air. 

He just continues to rub gentle circles on your back, his touch light and comforting. 

Finally, Drew speaks, but it is barely above a whisper, “what’s wrong?”

You grab a tissue, dabbing your cheeks where the mascara has ran down. 

When you see the dark spots on the tissue, your chest tightens. The tears come faster now, and you let out a shaky breath between sobs, “now my makeup’s ruined!” 

Drew can’t help but chuckle lightly at your reaction, the sound soft and gentle. His hand, still resting around your shoulders, takes the tissue from your trembling fingers.

With a small, reassuring smile, he dabs at your cheeks, wiping away the smudged makeup with care. 

“Don’t, don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. 

The tenderness in his words feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and for a moment, it’s the only thing grounding you.

As you look up at him, your breath catching in your throat, you notice how close he is. 

His face is inches from yours, and his eyes hold nothing but softness, nothing but a promise of comfort. His hand lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I…i had dinner with my parents,” you start. 

“I know,” he murmurs softly, his gaze never leaving yours. He'd seen the date marked on his calendar weeks ago, the reminder of your private dinner with your parents, and he had known it might be a tough night for you.

It was a dinner just for you and them—an attempt to reconnect, to have a moment where things might feel normal again. But Drew knew, from the way you’d talked about it in passing, that it wasn’t going to be easy.

“They still think, I made a huge mistake,” your voice cracks once again, and you swallow hard, as if trying to force the pain down, but it’s no use. It bubbles up too quickly.

Drew knows exactly what you mean. He remembers you telling him about dropping out in the middle of your final year. How it had been a decision made for yourself, even if your parents couldn’t understand it.

Drew watches you quietly for a moment, then speaks softly, “You did what was right for you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them, not you. Who cares what they think?”

He gives you a small, reassuring smile, before adding on, “you should see yourself through my eyes. You’re beautiful, smart, and more than enough as you are. You don't need a...certificate to prove that.”

His words settle over you, and for a moment, you feel your heart soften at the quiet sincerity in his voice. But you quickly look away, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. 

“Yeah, well…” you mutter, “we got into this huge fight, and I just stormed out- and look where I am. Ruining your - your guys’ night.”

“No, no,” Drew immediately interrupts, “you’re not ruining anything.”

Then, unexpectedly, without missing a beat, Drew throws the tissue in his hand toward the trash can in the far corner, and you watch, distracted by the sudden movement. 

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle when he makes a perfect shot, the tissue landing neatly inside with a satisfying swish.

Drew turns toward you, his smile both confused and amused, clearly unsure of what exactly made you laugh but happy to see you smile. “What?” he asks, his voice still holding that easy charm.

You stare at him for a moment, your eyes catching on his lips, the way they curve just slightly in that grin, and for a fleeting second, the urge to kiss him overwhelms you. 

It’s like everything else in the room fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, quiet moment.

Your breath catches in your chest, and before you can even think, the space between you seems to vanish.

Without a word, you lean in, your eyes fluttering shut, letting instinct take over. His hand gently cups your cheek, warm against your skin, as he tilts your head just slightly.

And then, you feel it—his lips against yours, and everything feels…right.

The kiss is calming, full of quiet affection—comforting in a way that eases all the tension, like a safe place where nothing else matters.

You could taste your own tears, salty on your lips, but somehow they only make the moment feel more real—more human. There’s something about the way Drew holds you, his lips soft and patient, as if he's absorbing all your hurt without needing to speak.

You pull away just briefly, catching your breath, but before you can even fully regain yourself, Drew leans in again, this time with urgency, as if he needs this kiss more than you.

His lips press against yours, deeper this time, gentle but insistent. His hand moves to your back, pulling you closer as if he’s anchoring himself to you, or to this moment.

You smile against his lips, hands wrapping around his neck. 

You want to push him against his bed, take him right there, show him how appreciative you are of him, but seems like, the rest of the world wants him too.  

The sound of his friends cheering from outside breaks through the moment, reminding you that Drew has guests over, and this isn't just your time with him.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes for just a moment to catch your breath. 

When you reopen your eyes, you find Drew’s gaze already on you—soft, steady, and full of something unspoken. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he looks at you, like he’s taking in every detail, as if he’s memorizing this moment, just as you are.

“You have- you have people, in the other room,” to your own surprise, you’re stuttering. You pull your head away slightly, finding the fun in tracing the line of his jaw. 

“I wanna stay here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place, but you feel it in your chest, a quiet certainty. 

He doesn’t break his stare, and in that moment, it’s like he’s asking you to stay with him too—not just in this room, but in everything he’s feeling, everything you’re both sharing.

“Ask them to leave,” you whisper back, a small smile tugging at your lips, though the words are more playful than serious.

You both know it’s not that simple. 

“Join me,” he says, referring to his guys' night, to his friends in the living room. 

“Well, at least let me... change, and redo my makeup.”

“I don’t know…” he lets his words trail off, his eyes scanning your features with mischief lurking in them, “they might like- like having a panda around.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch, unable to hide the small smile. You hear Drew’s throaty laugh escape his lips, a sound that makes your heart skip.

“Alright, just… take your time,” he says, his playful tone softening as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a moment longer than expected, like he wants to make sure you feel it.

You watch him, your chest warming at the gesture, as he moves across the room to his dresser. 

He pulls it open, rummaging through his clothes, and then, almost casually, he grabs the hoodie you recognize to be 'yours'. It’s his, but with how often you wear it, it’s practically yours now. 

Then, in one smooth motion, he opens the top drawer and takes out your shorts, underwear, and bra. He places them beside you, not even needing to say anything—just a small, thoughtful gesture that tells you he knows exactly what you need, even before you ask for it.

You look up at him, surprised by the simplicity of it, but somehow it feels even more intimate than words could say. It’s the way he just gets you, without needing to make a big deal of it.

And because it felt right, you whisper, “I love you.”

Drew’s gaze softens, the teasing smile melting away into something more sincere. His eyes hold yours as he says, “I love you more,” his voice quiet but filled with warmth. 

There’s no playfulness now—just honesty, raw and real.

“…now get out of here,” you tease, the corners of your lips lifting into a smirk.

He leans forward, his finger lightly tapping your forehead in a playful push, “so eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, and he smiles, shaking his head. 

With one last glance, he turns and walks to the door.

And once the door closes behind him, you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest—safe, loved, and entirely at peace.

-------------------------------

happy cny! angpao for everyone <3

i apologize in advance if this isn't good and has mistakes- i wrote it in a rush! (also, i realized there was a sudden pov switch- tf

other

[bekolxeram]

A whole day late to @bucktommyfluffebruary's day 1 prompt: non-sexual intimacy. Inspiration strikes suddenly, what can I say?

You can also read it on AO3.

Golden Hour

rated G | 1027 words

“Morning, team!” Buck walks into the firehouse with an extra bounce in his step, looking the most carefree he’s been for months.

“What got you so… woah,” Hen begins questioning, but stops in the middle of the sentence once she fully turns around and takes a good look of her strangely jovial co-worker.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?��� Buck instinctively touches his face in response to Hen’s reaction. He has a hard time deciphering her expression; She seems… surprised, astonished, but at the same time, shocked, and confounded.

“No! Not really. You seem… happier,” Hen puts on a reassuring smile, “but the bags under your eyes seem like they came straight from the Milan Fashion Week, and your hair looks like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”

The entire 118 bore witness to Buck’s post-Tommy heartbreak. Yes, he obsessively checked his phone and got addictive to baking, maybe he let his stubble grow out a day or two more than it should, but he never, ever, neglected personal hygiene or grooming. He always made sure to dress like a functioning member of the society before heading to work, what happened outside of shift was his own business.

“I used to know someone like this at school,” Chimney joins in. “His girlfriend dumped him just before summer break. Then he came back to school looking like a hobo, but at the same time, happy as the Buddha. He told me he went on a trip to discover himself.”

“But Buck was with us last shift, 48 hours ago. What life-changing destination could he have gone to in such a short amount time?” Hen furrows her brows in confusion.

“By trip, I mean an acid trip,” Chimney snickers, then he turns to face Buck in chorus with Hen, waiting for an answer.

“I can assure you, I’ve never taken any mind altering substance before coming to work. That would be irresponsible!” Buck objects, attempting to halt this dangerous speculation at once.

Just as Hen and Chimney are about to interrogate further, Eddie chimes in while slowly sipping on his coffee, “Buck and Tommy are back together without telling us.”

Gasps, then cheers fill the room.

“Wait, how? Did Tommy tell you?” Buck asks.

“No one told me anything,” Eddie takes another sip from his mug, “I can just tell, from your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Hen’s whole face is lit up by her realization, “the hair thing, right?” She vaguely gesture at her head.

“Exactly.” Eddie snaps his fingers at Hen.

“What hair thing?” It’s now Buck’s turn to be utterly confused.

“I don’t get it either,” Chimney turns his attention to his brother-in-law. “Is Tommy bad at picking shampoo? Or hair product? Can’t you just bring your own?”

“Um… I don’t know.”

“You’ll get it once you’ve spent enough time with them,” Eddie sighs.

“I’ve spent plenty of time with them. One is my oldest friend, the other is my brother by marriage!”

“With both of them together, as a third wheel,” Eddie adds.

Chimney grimaces. “Ugh, no! Is it a sex thing?”

“It’s appropriate safe in public,” Hen clarifies, “as long as you don’t find two people of the same gender being in love inappropriate.”

“Oh, okay,” Chimney nods in understanding, “but, what about the bags under your eyes?”

“Um… Tommy and I…”

Buck’s interrupted by Eddie.

“Stop. That one’s definitely a sex thing.”

It takes Chimney another few months to figure out what the “hair thing” actually is.

Buck and Tommy have been invited to dinner at the Han’s.

The four of them were anxious about the possible awkwardness, but Chimney and Tommy settle right back into their old buddy dynamic once the conversation starts flowing.

“I think you two fixed my brain when you showed up all sooty at the hospital. I was groggy all week, but connecting the dots that you guys had been making out? That was the first time I felt like I could finally think clearly,” Chimney recounts his experience coming down with viral encephalitis, and marrying the love of his life at a hospital.

“A hospital, what is it?” Tommy asks, barely containing his giggle.

“It’s a big building with patients, but that’s not important right now,” Chimney bursts into laughter in unison with Tommy by the time his finishes his sentence.

“Um… What’s the joke?” Maddie asks, while both Buckley siblings frown, seemingly puzzled.

“Airplane! The greatest comedy movie of all time!” Chimney exclaims.

“And the most quotable,” Tommy supplements.

“Neither of you have watched Airplane? Tommy, you didn’t introduce your man to the most influential film in your life?”

The Buckley siblings shake their head.

“Alright, we’re watching it after dinner.”

Chimney has seen Airplane! countless times before. The simple, sometimes childish humor of this classic has been his go-to for years whenever he needs a pick-me-up.

He may have the ability to recite the entire movie from start to finish, but the source of the enjoyment now comes from watching his friends and loved ones’ reaction to this comedic masterpiece, to experience the amusement and wonder anew from their fresh eyes.

“We have clearance, Clarence.”

“Roger, Roger. What’s our vector, Victor?”

Chimney turns to focus on the viewers’ reaction, instead of the screen.

Maddie’s almost crying with laughter, while shoving a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth. Popcorn with butter and pickle juice, the exact snack she’s been craving.

Buck, on the other hand, is laying his head onto Tommy’s shoulder.

And Tommy, he absentmindedly anchors his hand into Buck’s hair, and ruffles the curls around.

Chimney himself would gladly push off whoever dares to touch his carefully styled hair, but Buck’s happily leans into his boyfriend’s touch.

“Is that correct phraseology in aviation?” Buck beams at Tommy, half flirting and half genuinely asking to satisfy his curiosity.

“Yeah, more or less. That’s why it’s a classic,” Tommy gazes back at Buck softly, hand still messing up the younger man’s hair.

Buck shows his dimples, nestles his head at the crook of Tommy’s neck, and continues watching the movie.

My brother is in good hands.

Chimney tells himself silently.

[wisteria-lodge]

Wait, do you think Tom Riddle made himself ugly on purpose so he didn't look like his dad? That never occurred to me. I always just assumed it was a side effect of all the weird shit he was doing and he didn't care much as long as he became more powerful. So many time travel fix-it fics I've read have him horrified in particular that he is hideous in the future.

I think Tom Riddle has a deeply ambivalent relationship with his own extraordinary beauty.

Like, okay. He has the same name as his (muggle) father, and looks exactly like his (muggle) father. Apart from being a muggle, the most important thing about Tom Riddle Sr. is that he's very, very pretty. It's why Merope targets him. So right away, the books make Tom Riddle's looks... kind of a negative.

We also know that Tom sheds his "filthy muggle father's name" at the first possible opportunity. But those looks... he needs those looks, at least for now.

I think that Orphanage!Tom is a good snapshot of what he looks like in his natural, comfortable resting state:

"He scares the other children.” “You mean he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. (...) “There have been incidents. . . . Nasty things . . . Billy Stubbs’s rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?”

Tom enjoys feeling powerful. He's going to take what he wants (ie young Tom's trinket collection) and everyone around him is just going to let him... because they're scared of him. Also he's kind of a sadist.

The problem is, Tom's NOT powerful at Hogwarts, at least not at first. He can't scare people into doing things for him anymore, and so he needs another strategy.

So, Hogwarts!Tom becomes a CHARMER. He charms Ginny and his school mates. He hits the "sir" incredibly hard when talking to his professors. We're told that "Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty." He plays Slughorn like a violin:

“But you obviously know all about [horcruxes], sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I’d ask —” It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone.

Tom also does things like - pay attention to Slughorn's food preferences, so he can get him the perfect gift (candied pineapple.)

And well. That ability to charm people is related to his looks. They're brought up almost every time he is: Tom is the "clever, handsome boy," an "unusually talented and good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff." The link between his beauty and his power becomes text (rather than subtext) during the Hepzibah Smith segment:

Harry thought he saw a red gleam in [Tom's] dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features.

It's pretty clear what's going on. Tom wants Hepzibah's magical trinkets, and Hepzibah... wants Tom. (and she wants him because he's beautiful.) We get an unusually detailed description of him here:

He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever.

Hepzibah's attraction is framed as "greed." It's negative, almost threatening, she's looking at Tom like she wants to eat him. The section goes out of it's way to frame Hepzibah as unappealing and unattractive... but her "naughty boy" Tom is still kissing "Miss Hepzibah's" hand, and bringing her flowers. Then she casually pinches his cheek.

Tom is getting nothing out of this soft-seduction. He actually seems to be working very hard not to take up space. He "murmurs," or else speaks "quietly." (He's described as speaking "quietly" four times, and it's not a long scene.) He "picks" his way through the room, "smiled mechanically," and the narrative voice makes a point to say that when he reaches for the locket after his eyes flash red, he did it "without invitation this time," - implying that he is accustomed to asking for permission, positioning himself as less powerful than the person he's talking to.

He honestly seems very happy to just drop the pretense... and just publicly be the scary bastard he always was underneath. Tom walks into Dumbledore's office to ask for a job, and is just incredibly direct. At this point, he's halfway to full snakiness, and not as pretty as he once was:

"His features were not (...) as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Harry knew they would become."

But he also seems much more powerful, much more confident, much more comfortable in his skin. Now when he smiles it's a "taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage." He "sneers," he stands above Dumbledore and gives him a hard time, and in general seems very proud of himself.

“You call it ‘greatness,’ what you have been doing, do you?” asked Dumbledore delicately. “Certainly,” said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. “I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —”

We also have a moment with full-snake Risen Voldemort, and his response to his own new body is completely positive:

He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.

Tom then goes on to have a WONDERFUL time until things go south - monologuing, torturing Peter, casting spells on Harry to force him to bow...

So my take on this is that Tom likes and even prefers his Snakey body. It means he no longer has to play the subservient charmer (he CAN'T.) It is physical proof of his own brilliance, his own power, his own experimentation. He no longer looks like his muggle father, he has shed the muggle side of himself completely. It's probably also a body that needs less food, less sleep, feels less pain etc. I'm basing this off Ralph Fiennes' decision not to wear shoes as Voldemort, but it fits with his MO: he wants to be MORE than human, he wants to shed his weaknesses and achieve some kind of immortality and transhumanism.

Now the question is - was his Snakey appearance an accidental/unavoidable side effect of the "dangerous magical transformations" that left him "barely recognizable" - or was Voldemort actively seeking out something that would change how he looked? Honestly, I could see that going either way. But I'm inclined to think that he *did* at least sign off on this appearance... just because all those Snakey!Tom transformation beats are about being in control. That is what he's doing here, showing off just how much control he has over his body, and his world.

[yandereunsolved]

✒ Yandere Low Honor Jack Marston (RDR1) ᝰ.ᐟ

A chance meeting. Fate, what a crock of shit. He's never believed in such things. If he did, then it would mean that some higher being wanted, made, let, or whatever goddamn word you want to use—pain. That's the point. All this loss and death.

Was it really needed to get to you?

He'd never admit it, but the thought scares him. Not because he would change everything, keep his family alive, if to not meet you. It's the fact that he wouldn't change a damn thing if it meant he could lay his fresh eyes on you all over again.

It's a line from this old book someone gave him from a past only the dead remember. 'The world takes, but it gives just as much back.' Well, the world isn't taking anything else from him, least of all you. Not even the apocalypse could separate you two.

"If you ever need help, Marston, I'm here."

The only person who has meant those words. Kept them.

His usual seat at the bar is taken by some halfwit inbred fucker. He just wanted some damn peace after his shitty day. And now this prideful asshole is blocking him from his peace. Where does this motherfucker get the damn nerve?

"I believe you're in my seat, buddy."

Jack's white-knuckling the brunt of his pistol. Hat tipped low. Eyes staring bullet holes into the man's head.

And the old ass man has the gall to offer him a scanty glance, chortling obnoxiously, acting like a pig who has found a new favorite patch of mud.

"Hey, youngin'. Can't you see me and the bartender here are striking up a proposition?"

He props his chaffed elbow against the pristine bar, fishing out his sheriff badge and flashing it like it's some sacred religious object. Bullshit, buddy, pure and utter bullshit.

Gotta prove a point to these pathetic mongrels who think they own every inch of earth they prowl on.

Quicker than a blink of an eye, the sheriff's badge clatters to the ground, blood leaking from a wound in the law's hand—a bullet lodged in the bulbous, fleshy meat. He hears several guns being pulled on him.

What? He barely scratched the man. He'll have a working hand, most likely, unfortunately. It certainly is less gory than what his fingers itch to do. But he doesn't want any part of your saloon too bloody. If this pathetic excuse's blood stained your saloon, then he may have had to burn it down, just to make sure it didn't infect you.

There's a high-pitched ringing stuck in his ears. It blocks out the specifics of what your sweet voice tells him. So it takes a moment for him to register you coaxing not just him, but everyone else, to holster their guns. He reluctantly obliges. The lawman swears, running off like the yellow-bellied cocksucker he is, leaving Jack's cherished spot irreparably damaged, but once again open nonetheless.

He reclaims it and knocks on the bar, casually waving at you.

"One whiskey—" his words trail off for a moment as he takes in your bewildered expression.

"Damn, if you look at me like that any longer, I may just take you on this bar right now. Show all these milksop pansies what belongs to me." He wolfishly grins.

"Then again, I'm not a big fan of sharin', as you can tell."

The grin drops away as you don't thank him. In fact, you don't respond at all. You just plop a shot of whiskey down in front of him like he's some one-time stranger who isn't worth sparing a glance at.

You are about to go to the next customer. You're about to give someone else your attention, with more warmth towards them than him. So he does the most logical thing and grabs your upper arm, tightly squeezing it in his grasp, trying to mold the memory of your flesh into his hand. He leans over the bar closer to you, cockiness seeping onto his tongue.

"It ain't kind to ignore a man, Mx., especially one you owe."

"I don't owe you nothin'."

"Those er' dangerous words. Come on, just one kiss, sugar lips."

He pulls you sideways against the bar, giving zero damns about everything else. He forces you to stare at him. To look at what you're doing to him.

"My father owed a debt to yours that he could never repay, and John knew that, but he never abused it. He let my daddy go and run his business till they both got shot by the law. Now, let. me. go."

The intensity in your words nearly gives him a boner. Scratch that. Gives him a boner. He's never seen you this riled up.

But it's more than just that. Something about it makes the little Jack in him cry, wanting comfort that never existed.

So for the second time that night, he heals, like some obedient bitch. But he keeps up his cockiness, winking at you before plopping down back in his seat. He takes the whiskey and chugs it, tapping on the small glass for another.

You come back to him after a minute, staring at the empty glass instead of him.

"You aren't your father. Your father was a good man," the wistfulness in your voice almost beats how his father sounded when he died—was murdered in cold blood.

"You're right, sweetheart, I ain't my pa," smooth and low, vindictive, "but he certainly wasn't a good man. You still owe the Marstons a debt, and I'm the collector." The words are weighted with years of cancerous obsession, intensity still multiplying and soon spilling over.