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amourane · 9 months ago

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so this is love

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.7k

summary: there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

warnings: none!

a/n: i honestly love this so much and it's so so sooo cute!

Theodore Nott was many things. Quiet, judgmental, emotionless and most importantly handsome. One of the prettiest boys in Hogwarts yet the most unapproachable. No one had ever seen a smile grace his lips and if you had tried to converse with the Slytherin he would only stare at you with blank eyes waiting for you to go away. He spoke little words but it was enough for people to get the point. Unlike his rowdy group of friends, he wouldn’t merrily join in conversation, rather make snarky remarks every now and then, an uninterested look always on his face. A scowl or a smirk always tugged at his lips as he listened to what his friends had to say.

Even though Theo never voiced his thoughts out loud he always knew what to think. His mind was constantly running at a hundred miles per hour. Every little thing he wanted to say flitted through his mind. It was as if his head was a cacophonous symphony.

Yet as he looked at the girl in yellow robes his mind was oddly quiet. He watched her silently as she dropped her ingredients into her cauldron. It was a rare moment. One he had discovered a month ago when he had finished his potion early and looked around to see if anyone else was done. There you were. Eyes scanning the contents of your Potion’s book but it was quite clear you had finished brewing whatever was in your cauldron as you leaned back into your seat.

Theo’s mind was silent.

There were no thoughts, no opinions, no judgments. He stared at you and it made him uneasy. There was something about you that unnerved him. He didn’t recall you from his other classes and it was the first time he had even seen you in Potions. As he felt the comforting silence settle in his head he concluded one thing - you were interesting and he was going to keep an eye on you.

“Nott, mate, what are you doing? I’ve been asking you to pass me a quill for about a century, have you suddenly gone deaf?” Blaise nudged Theo out of his trance and the brunette blinked for a second before passing over a quill. His partner frowned before following where his eyeline previously was and he smirked. “Still obsessing over the little Hufflepuff I see. Who knew you were capable of having feelings.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

“I never said you did.” Blaise’s smirk widened. “You came up with that on your own.”

Theo felt his face heat up. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like you, not in the slightest. He was merely fascinated at how you were able to turn his manic mind into a state of tranquillity. He looked over. You were talking to your partner beside you and Theo assumed she had said something funny because a grin had overtaken your pretty features and a giggle slipped past your lips. Theo didn’t fancy you but he couldn’t deny that you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

“He’s staring again.” Hannah said as she poked your side to get your attention. “It’s like he’s drilling holes into your skull. Do you think he wants to hex you?”

You looked up from your cauldron with a frown as you faced your friend. “He doesn’t stare at me, don’t be silly Hannah. I’m sure he has a reason for looking this way.”

“Y/n you’re terrible at finding excuses for anything. It’s so obvious he’s looking at you and his glare is starting to scare me a bit.”

Behind your fellow Hufflepuff was Theodore Nott. Your eyes glaze over his perfectly tousled hair and his dark coloured eyes. He really was handsome. You watch as he says something to Blaise and you see a tint of pink touch his cheeks. Cute. You smiled to yourself. Merlin, he was really cute.

Theodore Nott had been watching you for a few weeks now and you weren’t oblivious enough to not notice the Slytherin’s gaze. At first you didn’t know how to react when you first felt his eyes on you. It was weird. Every time you would turn around he would already be looking down at his piece of parchment, scribbling something down with his quill. You had never caught him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. The piercing feeling of his stare made goosebumps rise on your skin. In a way you found it endearing. Sometimes you would turn around and find him, nose deep in his textbook and you could faintly see the tips of his ears blush red. It was those times you would giggle to yourself.

It was arrogant to assume that Theo felt that way about you but for some reason you couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the thought he might. That someone like him would even think about going out with someone like you. That the cutest guy in your year would fancy you. Then reality came crashing back and you knew that a Slytherin would never be seen with a Hufflepuff much less date one.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n? You still there?” Hannah waved her hand in front of your face. “Merlin, one mention of Nott and you go all dreamy on me. When are you going to ask him out then?”

Your cheeks flared up with heat and you couldn’t help a smile that tugs at your lips. “Shush Hannah.” You try to sound serious but with your blushing face and bright grin it’s hard to do so.

“You’re actually whipped, Y/n.” Hannah let out a laugh and you let a giggle slip past your lips at her statement. You didn’t feel the need to deny it after all, maybe it held some truth.

Theodore Nott always knew what to say and when but as he stood in front of you he found himself speechless. Now as his eyes wandered over your delicate hands and beautiful face he couldn’t find the words that needed to be said. His mind was quiet again. Silence. He opened his mouth to apologise for bumping into you and nearly knocking you over but no words came out. So he did the next best thing, help you grab your books.

You were scrambling to grab scrap pieces of parchment that had escaped the grasps of your books and Theo grabbed the Herbology textbook you had dropped. He watched as you gathered your things before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled and he felt his heart stop. Suddenly it was as if he was being engulfed in a tidal wave. There was a twinkle in your eyes and it set off a spark in his chest that he didn’t know was there. Theo felt himself grow hot as you stared at him and for the first time in his life he felt self conscious.

“Thank you.” You said and he felt his ears ring as your voice echoed through his mind. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was in a rush to get to my next class. I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

A beat passed.

Theo blinked. He watched as your bright expression slowly morphed into one of concern. He watched as you reached out to touch his arm.

“Theodore?”

“It’s Theo.” Is the only thing he can think to say before he realised how it must’ve sounded rude. “But you can call me Theodore. I don't mind.”

Another beat passed.

The two of you were now standing in the middle of the hallway as other students passed by. Theo could hear their whispers as they looked. The curious eyes wondering what a Slytherin could possibly be talking to a Hufflepuff about. For a second Theo thinks he’s upset you and you’re going to storm off but he’s proven wrong. The bright smile returned to your face.

“Well Theo, I’m going to need my Herbology textbook back, I’ve already been late twice this week.”

“O-Oh yes right, sorry I forgot.”

Theodore Nott has never once stumbled over his words. Yet as he stood in front of you he found himself wrapped in a world he had never known before. He felt himself grow even warmer and he reached a hand to loosen the emerald tie around his neck. This was unlike him. He never went speechless, he never struggled to find a smart quip or retort and he most definitely never stuttered. You brought out a side to him that was new and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.

“Thank you for helping me Theo, I’ll see you in Potions.” You waved goodbye as you hurried off down the hallway.

Theo’s eyes remained glued onto your frame as you ran. A rising bubbly feeling began in his chest and he felt his heart quicken. He gulped. You had long disappeared from his view but he still felt a burning sensation on his cheeks and he tried to cool himself down with his hands but it served no use. Giving up, he turned away and marched down the hall determined to figure out whatever he was feeling.

“You know staring at her won’t make her your girlfriend Nott.” Mattheo smirked as he watched his best friend. The others at the Slytherin table tittered with laughter and Theo rolled his eyes. He was now used to his friend’s teasing and even though it was relentless he didn’t pay any attention to it. Why would he? It wasn’t true anyway.

“Very funny Riddle.”

“You know me Theo, always the jokester.” He winked as he sipped the pumpkin juice in his cup.

“But seriously Theo you should ask her out if you like the girl. Salazar, it's better than drilling holes in the back of her head.”

“Pansy’s right Nott, we’re all tired of you mooning over the girl just go ask her out already and then the two of you can go snog in the broom cupboard.” Draco snickered and the other Slytherins erupted into another round of laughter.

“Well you’ve got it all wrong I don’t fancy her.” Theo looked at his friends with a scowl present on his face. “She makes me feel all these things and I hate it. I hate how different it is. I hate how quiet everything gets when I look at her. I hate how she makes me feel and it’s all horrible and downright disgusting. It’s like I’ve got a fever whenever I’m around her and I’ve somehow contracted some life-threatening heart disease. My mouth dries up and I stumble over what I say and it’s not like me at all. So no, you’ve all got it wrong because I don't fancy her.”

With that Theo leaves the table, dinner untouched, with red cheeks and a rapidly beating heart. His friends watched dumbfounded as their friend trudged away. They all exchange knowing glances before shaking their heads at his obliviousness to his own feelings.

“That guy seriously needs to realise that sometimes not being an emotionless prick isn’t going to kill him.” Pansy dug into her beef as she scoffed at her friend’s stupidity.

Unbeknownst to the Slytherins a certain Hufflepuff was watching as their friend stormed off, her eyes never once leaving his ruby red face and the angry glare that accompanied it. She excused herself from her table before slipping away to follow a certain brunette.

Annoyance was the main thing that Theodore Nott felt at the moment. Anger at the persistence that he had a crush on you when he didn’t, he knew he didn’t. You had cast some sort of spell on him. Some sort of hex that made him notice every little bit about you. The way your smile lit up the room, the way your laughter echoed in his mind like the happy tinkering of a bell. Every second he saw you it was as if you overtook his senses. Clouding his sight with your beauty, suffocating him with your sweet scent, muffling his ravenous thoughts until everything was calm.

When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt an overwhelming emotion, one that he couldn’t explain, but it made his hectic thoughts still and as cheesy as it sounded it made time itself stand still. When Theodore Nott looked at you he noticed every fine small detail like the way you like to smile at yourself whenever you get a question right or the way you tap your fingers on the desk when you’re concentrating. When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt his heart soar and he isn’t used to feeling this unnatural emotion that had been brewing inside of him.

He didn’t even notice you were behind him until he heard your voice. Soft and gentle and kind. He spun around. You had a look of concern etched upon your face and you stepped closer towards him and he backed away feeling his heart quicked once again. He glared at you hoping that his stare would force you to go away and would force whatever he was feeling to disappear.

“Are you okay Theo? I saw you leave and you didn’t touch your food, did something happen?”

You were so caring, so nice, so calm. You were so many things and Theo couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take looking at you when he could hear his heart pumping. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, backing away further.

You frowned. “I haven’t done anything Theo. Are you sure you’re okay you look quite red and-”

“You’re lying.” He seethed. “You’re lying because why are you making me feel these things? Why does my mind go quiet, my thoughts stop, the words fail? There’s no explanation to this. I don’t understand why my heart races and everything suddenly feels hotter around me. I don’t understand this feeling I have inside me, some magnetic force that keeps pulling me to you. You’re everywhere Y/n.”

His glare intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. “I look at you and I feel things I’ve never felt before, this bubbly warm feeling. Whenever I’m around you I can’t think of what to say. I close my eyes and I see your smile, your eyes. I can hear your laughter even if we’re in the noisiest classroom. You’re everywhere Y/n. So tell me, what have you done to me?”

A beat of silence.

The both of you stare at each other. Your frown had long gone and now you simply looked at the Slytherin in front of you trying to decipher his anger.

“It’s love Theo.” You take a step closer. “All the things you’ve just said - it’s love.”

Theo froze. His expression remained stony yet his eyes betrayed his thoughts as he looked away for a second. He blinked before looking at you once again. Your eyes, the eyes he couldn’t help but notice everywhere he went, looked back at him. His mind was no longer quiet. An outbreak of noise erupted inside his head and he struggled to grasp what was going on. He couldn’t focus. All he could hear was his own voice in his mind, overlapping, shouting, screaming, crying. It all came crashing down and Theo didn’t know what to do.

Then your lips collided with his and he stilled. The noise died down. Chaos ceased. Theo let his eyes flutter shut as he kissed you back with fervour. Your lips were soft and you tasted sweet like strawberries. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you were warm as you leaned into his touch. He felt your arms tangle in his hair and he smiled at the feeling. This felt right. This didn’t feel weird or disgusting. It was something he never thought he would feel.

The both of you broke apart and you blinked looking at Theo with your beautiful eyes. His heart continued to race. You beamed up at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. You were so pretty, so gorgeous and you had just kissed him. His mind was finally quiet again. The strange feeling that filled his body now didn’t feel so foreign at all in fact it felt natural as he gazed at you.

“It’s love Theodore Nott. That’s what you feel.” You give him another kiss. “And it’s what I feel too.”

Theodore Nott was many things but as he closed his eyes to kiss you once again there is only one thing that he wants to be - in love with you.

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #slytherin boys #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

Note

I know you already did the 141 boys when their wife gives birth (which was fantastic btw) but maybe if they missed the birth because of a mission or whatever else your brilliant mind can think of!

Don't give me compliments because then I'll follow you home like a cat and you'll never get rid of me 😖

Price

(This goes for all the men, really) but he's absolutely gutted to not be with you as you're giving birth

Honestly, if he had the choice, he would've rather lobbed off his own arm than miss such a momentous occasion in both your lives

It’s nothing less than the literal fate of the world that's keeping him from you, and he makes sure to reiterate that over and over again

The only thing that gives Price a bit of peace of mind when leaving you at a time like this is knowing you have a strong support system to help you through it

And boy oh boy does he put those friends and family members to use by having them constantly text him with every update imaginable

What time your water breaks, how far apart your contractions are, how much you've dilated, so on and so on. He wants to know it all

While he has to remain focused during the bulk of the mission, when he's able to, he's whipping out his phone to scroll through the literal hundreds of messages that await him

The updates are so plentiful and detailed that if he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend like he was right there beside you all along

And once he gets to the pictures of you holding your little one for the first time, well… he's not afraid to admit that he sheds a manly tear or two at the sight

Soap

He kicked up quite the storm at work when he realized he was going to be missing the birth of his child

He did everything in his power to try to get out of the mission – to try to get back to you – but, ultimately, he had no other choice than to go

But he's not just going to go gently into the night. No, he has a few tricks up his sleeve to make it as if he's still there with you in some capacity

Like Price, Soap takes comfort in leaving you with a huge support system to help while he's away

And also similarly, he's recruiting your loved ones (more so their phones) into letting him video chat with you whenever he gets the opportunity

(Does that mean he snuck his unauthorized smartphone into the middle of a battlefield? …. Yes. Yes, he did. .……....… Don't tell Price)

You'll be in the midst of a call with him and a bullet will fly right by his head and embed itself in the wall behind him

Of course, this has you incredibly concerned, worrying over how you're distracting him when he should be focused on his mission

But he assures you there's no need to fret, dear. He's perfectly safe and everything’s completely fine

(Oh, and just disregard that sound in the background, hun. No, it wasn't a bomb. Heavens, no! It was a… a… piano falling out a window)

Gaz

Even when he's away on mission during normal circumstances, he's calling home all the time to check in with you

But given your current state, now he's checking in twice as much as he usually does

Expect a minimum of three calls a day just to ensure things are still all hunky dory on your end

It's during one of these calls that your water breaks, and as you fly into a state of panic, forgetting everything you're supposed to do, Gaz has to calmly walk you through the steps of what you'd planned

He's able to talk you down and make sure you get yourself to the hospital in one piece, but then after that call, weirdly, you don't hear from him again

It's not until several hours later when you've already delivered your child that you're awoken by the feeling of someone beside your bed

You look to see who it is and it's none other than Gaz himself – still dressed in his full gear, covered in all sorts of dirt and grime, a hushed apology pouring from his mouth

He's so sorry he couldn't get there quick enough, beautiful. He left as soon as he could once he'd pulled a few strings with Price

But you don't even care about the excuse because you're quickly enveloping him in a hug. With tears in your eyes, you assure him it's alright. He's here now, and that's all that matters to you

Ghost

When he was informed he was being shipped off to a remote location less than a month before your due date, he was livid

No phone, no radio, no communication of any kind with the outside world and he was supposed to be okay with that? He very much wasn't

The higher-ups had to really hammer home the whole “safety of the world” thing to convince Ghost to go, and even when he did, he did so grudgingly

He finds that as he sits in this shoddy shack halfway across the planet from you, all he can do is keep a mental tally of everything he’s missing

Going with you to your final check ups, helping you pack your hospital bag, holding your hand as you begin to push, etc. etc. etc.

But what about things he might not know about? What if something's gone wrong while he's been away?

He can't let himself think on it too much because he'll end up putting his fist through the drywall, and he needs at least one good hand to hold his child with when he meets them for the first time

Seven weeks, four days, and nine hours after he shipped out, Ghost is on a plane back home

He doesn't stop to talk to anyone when he touches down at base (not even to report to his superiors). He just gets into his car and books it, not letting off the gas until he's parked outside your home again

And when he finally reaches the front door, an unexpected tremor passing through him as he grabs for the handle, he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and walks inside, beginning the next chapter of his life

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losersiren · 8 months ago

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𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

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flowersdiceandlove · 2 months ago

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Svsss au where Shen Qingqiu’s female. Shen Yuan is still male though. When he transmigrates into SQQ he freaks out not only because he’s the scum villain but also because he’s a girl now. Where is his dick?!? Airplane, you hack, give me my dick back!!!

LBH’s still a guy and everyone else is the same gender too. It’s just SQQ that has the genderbend. And Shen Qingqiu stews over the fact that not only is he a scum villain and a girl, he's the only woman in PIDW that actually gets a bad end and not just tossed into the harem because Shen Qingqiu was just that bad of a scum villain that not even Luo Binghe, stallion protagonist, husband of hundreds of wives, wants to seduce and papapa her into submission like he did with so many other villainess beauties. And it's not the beauty that's the problem. Shen Qingqiu is beautiful. Like an immortal fairy descended from misty peaks to grace the mortal world. Just the type to fit into the harem. So, it really is a testament to how much Luo Binghe hated her that he tortured and killed her instead.

During the three years of LBH in the abyss, SQQ finds a plant or smth that can turn him into a man. So he eats it or whatever. Then, bam. Male Shen Qingqiu.

Fast forward to Jinlan City and Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe meeting again. Luo Binghe freezes and his eyes rack up and down Shen Qingqiu’s form, over his face and repeating the process a few times before stuttering out a very choked and strangled “Sh—Shizun?” Because just did Shen Qingqiu get hotter as a man?!?! (He didn’t but Luo Binghe didn’t know about his transformation and going through the shock of it and a gay panic at the same time. And they’re really close together so he can see all the small changes that are making Shen Qingqiu more masculine instead of feminine.)

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu replies, flicking his fan open, his voice cool and even. And Luo Binghe chokes, wheezing out a breath at hearing not only Shen Qingqiu’s deeper, masculine voice for the first time, but that voice saying his name. Send help, this boy is not doing well.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling for something, anything to say.

"Uh..Um.. Sh-Shizun looks...nice," he eventually says, feeling like an absolute idiot! Of course, Shizun looks nice!!

"...As does Luo Binghe," Shen Qingqiu replies, feeling out of depth because Binghe is two years yearly, and why is he acting so weird? Shen Qingqiu's trying to find Luo Binghe's angle for this weird behavior. Is he playing the traumatized victim of the scum villain teacher? But, if he is, this behavior doesn't seem quite right for it... "Binghe has certainly grown more into himself," he decides to add. More compliments can't be bad, right?

And Luo Binghe's brain short circuits again because Shizun just said he looked nice!!

He lets out a high pitched squeak. Shen Qingqiu is horrified, wondering what is wrong with Luo Binghe. Why is his face so red? And his eyes are shifting around erratically, not focussing on anything. (Luo Binghe can't keep his eyes on Shen Qingqiu--he's to handsome to look at--but also can't look away from him. Seriously, he is struggling bad. Gay Panic: 3, Luo Binghe: 0)

Seeing Luo Binghe continue to look bright red, act weird, and his face look kinda contorted honestly, is making Shen Qingqiu worried about him and his eyes land on Xin Mo. Ah. Xin Mo must be affecting him!! Shen Qingqiu thinks, and calms some at knowing what's wrong. Then that calm is replaced by panic, because Luo Binghe effected by Xin Mo is never a good thing. See, Binghe! This is what happens when you rush your leveling up arc!!

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu steps forward and lifts his hand to feel Binghe's forehead. Just as he thought. Binghe's burning up. Shen Qingqiu frowns and hums. Luo Binghe goes a bit cross-eyed and his face heats up even more at Shizun touching him. He get's a bit dizzy from it and sways on his feet. Shen Qingqiu's eyes widen at this and reaches his hands out to gab at Luo Binghe's upper arms, stabilizing him. At this, Luo Binghe lets out a high and quite whine in the back of his throat. Shen Qingqiu is very worried now.

Keeping Luo Binghe supported in his grasp, he looks around at the gathered Huan Hua Palace disciples, wondering why one of the girls here isn't rushing to help Binghe. That's what you're here for!! he thinks scowling, then barks out orders at them to find a room for Binghe to lie down in. While they don't really want to take orders from him, they do and find a room. In Shen Qingqiu's ordering, he calls LBH "Binghe" not "Luo Binghe" and it's not helping Luo Binghe regain brain functions.

"Come on, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu whispers to him, ushering him towards the room, "right this way. Can you walk or do you need this master to carry you?" Luo Binghe just whimpers which only worries Shen Qingqiu further and he hurries Luo Binghe to the room faster. Once there, he settles Luo Binghe on the bed. In all his worry, he's fallen back into Protective Shizun Mode that cares for his sick disciples (or Mommy Mode if you prefer). So, he orders the Huan Hua Palace disciples to get water and a cloth and lays the cool towel on Binghe's forehead who's just staring up at Shen Qingqiu with wide eyes. "Shhhh...It's okay, Binghe, you're okay..." he murmurs and Binghe whimpers again, needing to close his eyes. He thought Shizun hated him and thought he was a monster to be put down, but here he was caring for Binghe so sweetly and gently, his touches soft and whispering reassurances to him.

Shen Qingqiu continues to hover over him replacing the cloth when it grew warm, brushing his hair out of his face, patting and stroking his head gentle, and transferring qi to him to try and sooth the effects of Xin Mo. While this little...bout...wasn't brought on by Xin Mo, the sword is still effecting Binghe to at least some degree, so Shen Qingqiu is mitigating that effect. Luo Binghe can only lay there, helpless against the effects of his Shizun and soaking in his affection.

The System kept on giving Shen Qingqiu point increase updates, but they got so frequent that they were annoying and distracting, so he muted them. Shen Qingqiu has however clocked that him pampering Binghe like this and caring for him in such a difficult time is helping his situation and he's hopeful he won't be turned into a human stick as soon as Binghe regains his strength.

One of the Huan Hua Palace meimeis finally can't take it anymore and steps forward, "I can do that. No need for Peak Lord Shen to trouble himself," she says, barely able to hold the vitriol in her voice back. Shen Qingqiu knows his queue when he sees it (at least he thinks he does) and nods gracefully, rising from his seat beside the bed to let her sit in his place. The girl looks smug for only one moment before Shen Qingqiu stops and looks back down at Luo Binghe. He had reached out and grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu's sleeve.

"Shizun, don't leave me," he whispers so soft and broken sounding. He's utterly wrecked by the amount of emotions that have been surging in him, first from the gay panic and then Shen Qingqiu pampering him when he thought he was hated. (Xin Mo wasn't helping either.) And, Shen Qingqiu's heart just cracks at how vulnerable and broken he sounds and the teary look in his eyes, and just plops back down in the chair, grasping Luo Binghe's hand, not breaking eye contact.

"I won't. Shizun won't go anywhere, Binghe, okay?" he says without thinking. Luo Binghe nods and hums, a couple tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Shen Qingqiu reaches out to wipe them away with his sleeve, one hand still firmly holding Luo Binghe's hand. And, while he hadn't thought before sitting back down or speaking, he can't bring himself to take his words back. Not when Luo Binghe is like this. He clearly needs someone to care for him, and for some reason he wants that person to be Shen Qingqiu. And, who is Shen Qingqiu to deny the protagonist what he wants? And his little disciple at that? While he knows that Luo Binghe is supposed to be blackened right now, when he looks at him, all Shen Qingqiu can see is his little disciple wanting his Shizun.

The Huan Hua Palace girl, though, not wanting to give up just yet, steps forward once more, determined, "Really, I--"

But she's cut off by Luo Binghe growling at her lowly and giving her a harsh glare. She's shocked still by it, her eyes widening and face paling.

On instinct, and so caught up in nostalgia, Shen Qingqiu snacks Luo Binghe's head and glares at him, "Don't growl at her. I taught you better than that."

Luo Binghe looks up at him with wide eyes like a child caught misbehaving, then mumbles demurely, "This disciple is sorry. He won't do it again."

And that shocks Shen Qingqiu out of his nostalgia and he realizes he just smacked. Luo Binghe. The post-abyss Luo Binghe. And scolded him like he was still his teacher and not a scum villain. Terror racing through him, Shen Qingqiu gently pats and soothes Binghe's head, saying sweetly, "Ah, no, it's okay. Binghe needn't apologize, he can growl all he wants." Hopefully that'll do it, he thinks while he continues to pat Binghe's head and fluffy hair. Luo Binghe just stares at him with wide eyes again, his face heating again as well. Then Shen Qingqiu starts fussing over him again and his red face, the girl forgotten. "Ah, is Binghe's fever back? Just lie still. Hey you there--get more water!" then turning back to Binghe and transferring more qi.

Luo Binghe continues to KOed by Shen Qingqiu until he's nothing more than the whimpering, sticky little disciple Shen Qingqiu remembers him to be. just with claws and a demon mark and red eyes and powerful demonic qi. and an evil sword. But still Binghe!! His sweet little bun that just wants his Shizun. (Binghe gets rid of the evil sword when Shen Qingqiu expresses his dislike on how negatively it's effecting him.) And, if Binghe wants his Shizun, then how can Shen Qingqiu deny him that?

#scum villain self saving system #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #luo bingmei #bingqiu #svsss fanfiction prompt #svsss fanfic prompt #do with this what you will #svsss au

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suzukiblu · 24 days ago

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Day thirty of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut, the final day!! Eyyyyy, gang, we did it! Full month of daily updates for this one, haha. Ended up writing about 24k, give or take a few hundred words. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The alert on his communicator goes off again, and then again a few seconds later. Tim represses another frown. Nobody double-texts him on Tim Drake’s phone. The only people who ever would are Dick and Steph, and Dick never texts Tim Drake’s phone outside of emergency situations where Tim’s not suited-up and Steph doesn’t have Tim Drake’s number at all; they just use burners and the occassional dead drop. So who . . . ?

The alert goes off a fourth time. Tim definitely doesn’t panic, but also definitely turns his wrist in his lap underneath the fall of his cape and taps the little armored pocket where he hides one of his micro-receivers for situations where he can’t pull the full-sized one out of his utility belt without being obvious about it. Cissie’s distracted with whatever’s distracting Cassie and neither of them can see his eyes behind the lenses of his mask, so it’s not difficult to slip it into his palm and out from under his cape to glance down at as he thumbs it open to wake up the tiny little screen. Four text alerts, and the caller ID is scrolling “UNKNOWN NUMBER” across the screen.

Okay, so his civilian number is getting spam texts now. Jesus, he was worried, that’s so–

The actual number of the unknown number scrolls across the screen after the text. Tim . . . blinks.

. . . that’s Kon’s number. Specifically, the number of the phone he bought Kon. Who is literally right outside, according to Cassie, and . . . texting somebody. While he’s out there. While he’s out there, and Tim is in here, and is being Robin.

Tim has literally no idea how he feels about this situation, and honestly neither does Robin.

He opens the text log, and there are, in fact, four texts from Kon in it.

so like

superweird questin

liek uh rly superweird tbh but uh

cn u wish me luck babe??

Tim stares blankly at the messages. “Wish me luck”? That’s–what?

Good luck, Kon, he texts back after a moment, figuring it’s the logical response anyway and assuming that using the other’s real name will help him feel better about whatever he wants the aforementioned “good luck” for. He’s going to have to try and get a read on him when he comes in, see if he can’t work that out. If it’s something to be concerned about . . .

thx, Kon sends back with a blue heart emoji and literally nothing else.

Blue, Tim thinks, yet again having to repress a frown. What the hell does a blue heart mean? Does that mean anything?

He barely bites back the question, because it’s way too risky to ask even if if anyone knows what different-colored heart emojis mean it is definitely a teenage girl and if he texts Steph with a random question with no context attached and then doesn’t stick around to talk she’ll get annoyed and might leave another glitter bomb in their next dead drop.

He really doesn’t wanna have to explain glitter in his cape to Bruce again. Or worse, explain glitter in his cape to Alfred. Alfred did not appreciate the glitter tracked all over the cave last time. Very, very much did he not appreciate it.

Maybe Kon just picked it because he likes blue. Or maybe red seemed like too much to him? Or maybe–

“I’m back!” Suzie announces excitedly as she spills into the room, and Bart bolts through her smoke trail a moment later and stops on a dime right next to the kitchen table.

“What’s going on?” he asks, wrinkling his nose down at Cissie and Cassie. “Are you crying? Is it because your wig looks weird? It’s not that weird. I mean, kinda.”

“That HeroWatch magazine thinks it’s your real hair!” Suzie offers brightly. “So it can’t be that weird.”

“I am not crying and HeroWatch thinks what?!” Cassie demands, whipping her head up to stare at them both with a horrified expression. “It’s not even real hair! It’s like, synthetic! I buy the stupid things off Amazon!”

“You should stop doing that,” Tim advises reflexively. There are so many ways for that to end badly for her secret identity. Genuinely so many that he doesn’t even know where to start, in fact.

“And do what instead, exactly?” Cassie asks with a sullen scowl, leaning back just enough to fold her arms. “I can’t just clear out Spirit Halloween every–”

She cuts herself off and stiffens, then jerks to her feet very quickly and straightens her wig and jacket even quicker. Tim has half a second to remember that while Cassie’s hearing isn’t super, it’s definitely enhanced, and then Kon walks into the room.

“Yo,” he says, half-waving a hand at the table and then making a face. “Shit, I’m the last one here? Figures.”

Tim . . . blinks. Blinks again. Cassie looks downright agonized, and Suzie and Bart both tilt their heads in opposite directions. Cissie raises both eyebrows and looks him up and down.

“Jesus Christ, Kon, that is borderline indecent expo–” she starts incredulously, and Cassie immediately claps a hand over her mouth and leans down to hiss into her ear: “Cissie, you are my best friend and I love you and shut the hell up right the hell NOW.”

Tim attempts to make his brain work. It needs to, like–do things. Be usable. Functional. Brain . . . able.

The problem with that is the fact that Kon is currently wearing the tiny little jean shorts that first made Tim aware of the existence of the other’s thighs and the S-shield crop top that people really should have more respect for Superman than to have made and sold commercially with his usual leather jacket and sunglasses and a pair of heavy black boots that Tim also bought him, plus the sapphire stud earring from their last date with a little bit of eyeliner and chipped black nail polish and . . . thighs. Just–thighs. Kon is very, very much wearing thighs right now.

. . . thighs.

Tim suddenly understands literally everything about the way Cassie came in acting and literally everything she’d said on top of that. Also, he isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe this is worse than the changing room was? Like, this might be worse than the changing room was. Because Kon’s not posing to show himself off like he was there, and “Tim Drake” isn’t here for him to be showing off for. So Kon is, presumably, wearing this outfit just because he wants to be wearing it.

Tim needs a minute. Or a year. Or maybe a hard reboot and a new identity and a new reality to move to. Not permanently or anything, just until he can remember how to function like a reasonably-normal person again or he needs to send Kon his allowance, whichever comes first.

It’s going to be the allowance, he already knows. It’s definitely, definitely going to be the allowance.

“Huh,” Suzie says, looking a little perplexed.

“Oh, is that what hormones are?” Bart says, looking surprised. “Weird.”

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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okwonyo · 7 months ago

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when you are shipped with another idol.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader seven hundred requested ！ established relationship ⠀⎯⠀⠀ not proof-read kissing skinship slight jealousy ( other )

heeseung would be purely flabbergasted. because, with who could his girlfriend be shipped with if it is not him？you will be able to see thirty different expressions displaying on his face in the space of ten seconds. would try to hide the tiny bubble of jealousy that grows inside of him. “it was me who gave you this beanie, pft,” he’d mutter under his breath while he reads the freshly aired article your manager sent to you. you would have reassure him, “it’ll go away quickly, don’t worry, bub” and maybe with a few kisses— he would forget about it quickly enough.

jay would only give you a soft and weirdly understanding smile as you tell him that fans are spamming another idol’s name in your lives. they claim that you would look cute together and you try your best to ignore them. the truth is, he would know; he would watch your live regularly. would not mind that much though, as he would not be the jealous type. still, his still so sweet demeanor would throw you off, “you don’t care?” you would ask, only slight shock written on your face. “do i need to?” he would ask, giving you a peck, “i know you are my girl,”

jake would sulk immediately. would never think that you would be shipped, loved to be seen, with someone who isn’t him. would not try to hide his jealousy at all — rather opting for a overdramatic pout that just goes with his personality so well. “do you think he is cuter ..？be honest,” he would question you, the only response he would get would be a confused look that he would straight up take for a ‘yes’. you would have to shower him in compliments while gently stroking his hair until he becomes red and hide his shy face in the crook of your neck.

sunghoon would develop a one sided dislike for the, unlucky (in that case, because your boyfriend would think that they are really lucky) idol you get shipped with. would shoot the said idol some glares that would make cold sweat appear, would slightly roll his eyes whenever that that idol talks and would fight the urge to start a war if they are a bit too close to you for his liking. you would definitely make fun of him for it, “you know it’s really all in your head right,” you would ask him, and he would just mumble while making himself comfortable on your chest.

sunoo would feel offended, almost cheated on by your fans. would hide it well, to anyone else but not to you, with a wide smile when you ask him what is wrong. you would try to scoot over his shoulder discreetly, eyeing a tweet about you and, allegedly, another idol caught dating— knowing who it really is. “you know it’s you, right?” you would giggle in his ear and he would jump, holding his heart as you scared him. would claim that he does, still pouting, nonetheless; a few poke on his soft cheeks would make him forget about it.

jungwon would be confused. would have his inexistant comprehension of the situation written all over his face. would raise his eyebrows while he watches a slideshow of you and an unknown’s ‘dating proofs’. ridiculously enough, after scrolling through the hashtag of the freshly created couple, it would convince him as well at some point. “w-woah, these are really convincing,” he would mutter, putting his phone down to stop whatever is going on. “you are only dating me, right?” he would ask in your ear, scooting over you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

riki would not like that, at all. “which one is cooler,” showing you his phone, he would interrogate you. “him or me?” your gaze would be full of endeared annoyance and fondness. would tilt his head to the side, mirroring you and waiting for you to answer his question. “you are so cute,” you would tell him, cupping his head in your hands. would have to lean a bit towards you as he is taller. the look in your eyes would quickly take over his mind— forgetting the question he asked a few seconds ago. “you will always be my only choice,” then he would smile when you kiss his nose.

this was really fun to write ! >_<

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berryz-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Game Night

Azriel x reader

Summary: Game night with your mate and the IC. Safe to say your ready to fight Cassian. Mostly fluff at the end

I was inspired after the game of monopoly with my cousins. it was extremely chaotic😭

I leaned in even closer my head resting against his chest, his head ever so slightly resting on the top of my head. I was sat, very comfily, on Azriel's lap his wings cocooning us into a warm and peaceful environment.

"Az? Can you stop making y/n so comfy?" Mor asked from across the room choosing her character. I looked up at Azriel who had a small smile on his face. His hand tightened around my waist, his other hand continuing the circles he was making on my thigh.

"I will do whatever my mate tells me to do. If she wants to play she plays. If she wants to sleep she sleeps." Azriel said to Mor pressing a warm kiss to my head.

I sat up a little and slid off of Azriel's lap to sit next to him, he looked a little disgruntled but all the same kept his arm around my waist his left wing around my back. "She's right. I want to play but it's just- your too comfy." He raised an eyebrow at my statement. He was probably confused as to whether I was complimenting him or not.

"You can come sit on my lap, y/n" Cassian said grinning. Nesta whacked him on the arm, earning a surprised yelp from him. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean it" He muttered.

The monopoly game soon started and of course the rules were changing as the game went on. That was one reason why Elain had opted out and had instead taken up Lucien's request to join him for dinner. Her evening was probably more peaceful than mine was currently going.

I stood up ready to kick Cassian out of the game "Cassian! You can't just land on pay two hundred and then proceed to put it in the bank. It's supposed to go in the middle"

He stood up crossing his arms "It goes in the bank! NOT THE FUCKING MIDDLE! I'm not-"

"Watch your tone" Azriel interrupted, his voice threatening and causing Cassian to send me a wink "he's whipped" he mouthed at me, earning the middle finger from Azriel.

"Why is it going in the middle? I thought-" Mor added, trying to hide her money behind her so we wouldn't know how much she had. It was quiet obvious.

"It's not, it goes in the bank. Where did that rule even come from?" Rhys asked, annoyed that the game had stopped because he was currently winning and he wanted to continue charging us every time we landed on one of his properties.

Feyre rested a hand on his arm to calm him down "It goes in the middle because when someone else lands on free parking they get the money. Otherwise what would be the point of landing on free parking if you don't get anything?" She tried explaining. Cassian just looked even more angry and Rhys decided it was best to agree with whatever his mate was saying.

I clapped my hands at Feyre "Thank you! At least someone knows the rules"

"I'm putting it in the bank, none of you even know how to play" Cassian snatched the two hundred from the middle and handed it to Azriel who was playing as the banker. Azriel shook his head putting the money back in the middle.

"It's not going in the bank, mate." He looked tired from all the unnecessary arguing that was going on.

Cassian tried to shove it in himself "It does! Just let me put it in"

"Hands off the bank or else your ass is out of the game" Azriel said. Cassian reluctantly took his hands back and crossed his arms looking angry.

"Cassian just put it in the middle! Someone else could end up with it. It could be you if you land on free parking" I said stretching out my hand for the money.

"Nes! A little help here" Cassian said to Nesta pleading with her. Nesta merely shook her head "You wanted to play. So play. Teams don't work in monopoly sweetheart"

After a few more minutes of arguing and a few more refusals of Azriel not accepting Cassian's money, he put it in the middle and the game carried on. Eventually Mor got the money and made sure to tease Cassian with it as much as possible.

"Whatever. We'll see who wins" Cassian muttered sulkily. Nesta patted him on the arm "I'm sure you'll win"

We all knew he wasn't going to. Rhys in fact won. Then it was Nesta, Azriel and then me and Feyre in joint fourth. Mor came second to last because she forgot she had stashed her money behind her and so became bankrupt. And last but not least came Cassian who kept landing on Rhys's properties and eventually had no money left. He survived for half the game, a new record for him. He seemed extremely pissed but all the same asked "So, should we play again?"

"If you mean without yourself then sure" Rhys said looking rather pleased with his win.

"How about a game of cards? They're a little less...chaotic" Feyre asked reaching for a deck of cards and shuffling them.

Everyone agreed, readying themselves to play. I wasn't really someone who enjoyed playing cards so I opted out and settled back onto Azriel's lap, resting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelt delicious like usual. Like wind, smoke, musk something so delightfully intoxicating. And something that made me sleepy. Everyone's voices had become more distant, almost as if someone had turned their volume down. All I could hear was the low hum of their conversation and feel the slight rumble of Azriel's deep voice whenever he talked.

I felt Azriel tilt his head slightly down to look at me. I looked up at him snuggling in closer to his warmth. I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw earning a small smile from him.

"We can go up if your sleepy" He said quietly so only I could hear. I shook my head resting my hand on his chest. "You need to win for the both of us"

His lips quirked up even more. Those perfect lips. Lips that I wanted all over me. "Sweetheart, your eyes are closing without you even realising" He brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"No they're not. Win for me Azriel"

"Ok, love. Whatever you say" He pressed another kiss to my head and let his shadows cocoon me so I could just barely hear their conversation. It was almost like a lulling buzz in the background.

*later on

I woke up to find myself in our gigantic bed (Illyrian wings were no joke) my face pressed into his chest. One of his hand cradled the back of my head while the other was wrapped around my waist. His wings were behind him, the warm blanket being enough for the night. Although it wasn't cold I still liked the feeling of the heavy weight of his wings draped over me. It felt like we were safe. Nothing could pull us apart.

I looked up at Azriel to see he was already awake. He smiled at me. A small dimple appearing in his cheek, his hazel eyes full of warmth. I kissed his cheek and then left a small kiss on his perfect lips.

"Your cute when you smile" I whispered to him. It was still night outside but because the curtain was left open I could just about make him out in the moonlight.

"And your gorgeous every single moment of the day" His voice was deep and full of tiredness. I reached up, my arm trying to get to his wing. He let it drop closer to me so I could gently pull it down onto me until it was draped over me like I wanted.

"Not too warm for you, sweetheart?" He asked rubbing his thumb up and down my bare skin, where my nightshirt had ridden up.

"No. Now go to sleep, shadow singer." I nuzzled back into his chest and let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.

MASTERLIST

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

Note

good morning cherry!

may i please request a nsfw miguel x fem reader where miguel is a business ceo (or any sort of high ranking position) and reader is his personal assistant? miguel gets hard while doing paperwork, calls in reader, and bangs her from the back 💗

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Little Plot, Degrading, Masturbation, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Hair Pulling, Slight Fingering, Choking, Creampie

Summary: You might need to buy a new blouse and a pair of panties.

A/N: Screamed and kicked and yelled when I saw this!!!

Word Count: 2.2K (Barely Edited)

It was extremely unprofessional.

That’s what Miguel thought every time you came into his office, a cute little button down blouse and a too short pencil skirt hugging your thighs. He had to grit his teeth whenever your big doe eyes blinked at him, asking him if there was anything else he needed in the most innocent, seductive voice he has ever heard. Hates the way he had to grip onto the armrest of his office chair whenever you turned around to leave, his eyes wandering to your ass all the way down your long legs to the pretty heels you wore. He wonders if they were a gift. If you bought them just for work, just for him. Wonders if some lousy guy bought them for you in a show of affection. I can do better, he thinks to himself, I can buy you a hundred pairs of designer shoes if you want me to.

He shakes the thought away, scoffing at himself. He shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable with the semi he’s now sporting. He grunts as he opens the file you had given him, picking up a pen and trying to get to work. But it’s so annoying. The sound of your voice keeps floating through his wooden door as you talk on the phone with whoever it is. Probably someone wanting to set up a company meeting with Miguel. He’s trying to focus on the words on the business proposal in front of him, trying to remember where he was and what he’s supposed to be signing on, but he just can’t. Not when the syrupy sweet business voice of yours keeps distracting him and each little giggle you let out goes straight to his cock.

His grip on the pen tightens and he lets out a stressed breath as he leans his head back on the chair. He sits there, eyes closing as your voice continues going on and on about whatever you won’t shut up about. He fidgets with the pen in his hand, his other hand coming to undo his pants. He reaches into his work pants, groaning as his hand pulls out his painfully hard cock. His thumb pushes into his tip, his hips bucking into the pressure. Slowly, his hand pumps his length, hissing at how good it feels.

It’s so dirty that he has to chuckle at himself. Here he is, scary CEO to one of the biggest science corporations in Nueva York, getting off to the sound of his pretty little assistant’s voice like a high school boy. He wonders what your voice would sound like if he slid into you. Would you still try to keep your work voice on as he thrusted into you? Would you still call him Mr. O’Hara or would you call out Miguel? The thought of you just moaning for him has his cock twitching in his hand.

Right when he feels the pleasure build up, right when he starts speeding his hand up, your voice stops and he hears the phone click. A curse leaves his mouth as his eyes snap open and looks down towards his weeping cock. His head is red and swollen, angry that he’s stopped jerking himself off. A vein on his neck twitches in irritation as he presses the button on his desk. Instantly, a speaker clicks and your voice returns, “Mr. O’Hara?”

“Get. In. Here.” He grounds out, releasing his finger off the button.

In less then a few seconds, your shy face peaks into his office, slowly walking in and closing the door behind you. You fidget with your fingers as you stand in front of his desk. He has to keep down a moan as you bite your lipstick-stained lips as you blink your eyes at him.

“Is there anything I can do for you Mr. O’Hara?”

“Yes. Get over here.” He instantly responds, pushing his chair out slightly.

With a confused look, you start to round his desk before you stop. A scarlet blush covers your face as you see his hard erection out in the open. Your eyes can’t look away from it, your mouth dropping open slightly. Miguel’s chuckle pulls your eyes away bashfully, a smirk on his face when you look up at him. He makes a little come here gesture with his hand, and you hesitantly start walking towards him again. When you get close enough, his hands grab your waist and pull you in between his legs.

A small yelp leaves your mouth and your hands shoot up to hold onto his shoulder so you don’t fall over. You look down at Miguel with widened eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights. One of Miguel’s hands leaves your waist, reaching up and playing with one of your curls. The strand coils around his fingers, and he gives it a slight tug that has you gasping.

“You know, you’re such a fucking tease.” Miguel chuckles out, a lazy smirk covering his face.

“Always wearing these practically see-through blouses,” His hand leaves your hair and he comes to unbutton the top button of your shirt. “No use wearing them when they don’t cover anything up.”

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he grabs the top of your blouse, tugging hard so it rips open and buttons can be heard flying and falling to the ground. The cool air causes goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin, looking down to see your white bra revealed to your boss. Quickly, your hands reach up to try to cover yourself up again, but you’re stopped by Miguel gripping onto your wrists. You’re eyes snap up to him as he growls at you.

He pushes your hands away, staring intently at you. Your bra pushes your boobs together, almost offering them to him. He lets out a groan as his mouth wraps around where your nipple would be. A startled sound leaves you and your hands instinctively fall to his hair as your face drops down to him. Miguel’s eyes are closed as he sucks and licks the fabric of your bra, pulling away to reveal a spot wet with his saliva.

Impatient, Miguel grabs your hips and spins you around. You trip on your heels, your chest falling onto his desk. Your hands grab at the ledge for support, causing objects to be pushed off the edge and fall to the ground. Your body jolts further onto the desk as you feel Miguel push up against you from behind.

Miguel grabs your hair, pulling your chest off the surface of the desk. His warm breath meets your ear and you shiver. “Mr. O”Hara! W-we can’t do this. You’re my boss.”

The little chuckle he lets out makes you feel small and it causes warmth to rush to your core. A nervous breath escapes your mouth as Miguel pushes your skirt up to your waist. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the desk tightens, body tensing as Miguel’s fingers brush over the damp spot on your panties.

“How dirty. You like this don’t you, dirty little slut wanting to get fucked by her boss’s cock.” Miguel’s voice is teasing, pushing your panties to the side to feel your pussy lips.

“We can’t…” You try to voice again, your voice is small as your body pushes itself more into his fingers.

“But we can, it’s in the job description, remember?” Miguel replies simply, finger slowly pushing into you. “You’re supposed to meet my every need.”

A soft moan leaves your mouth as his fingers curl slightly, pressing into your gummy walls. You bite your lip, squinting your eyes at the door in an effort to stop more noises from surfacing. You can taste coppery blood on your tongue, teeth biting through your lip. You look away from the door, looking over your shoulder the best you can with Miguel’s hand still in your hair. “Yes, but this isn’t… this isn’t part of those needs.”

Miguel hums, ignoring your small gasp as he slides his fingers out to rip your panties off. He shoves them into his pocket for safekeeping before his hand spreads against your back, pushing you back onto the desk. “Huh, guess you just missed it then.”

A sharp gasp leaves you as he thrusts into you unexpectedly. Miguel lets out a deep moan, watching the way your entrance swallows him perfectly. Your walls pulse around him and he grits his teeth. He pulls back to the tip, snapping his hips into you again. Your body slides up at the force, and his hands grab your waist to pull you back towards him. He continues the action, pushing himself deep into your throbbing cunt. You lose hope in trying to stop yourself from moaning, your noises filling his office.

“Such a pretty little whore, yeah? Lettin’ me use you like this.” Miguel laughs, watching as your body squirms under him. Your moans are absolute music to his ears, encouraging him to speed up his thrusts. Your body keeps pushing into him, desperate for everything he’s giving you.

“Can’t with those pretty fucking voices. Had me fucking my hand earlier to the sound of your slutty little voice.” His confession causes a broken moan to leave you. You can’t really think clearly, too consumed in the way his hands hold you tightly and how his cock brushes up against that sweet spot inside you.

Miguel lets out a curse as you clench around him, his hand coming down to play with your clit. It has you jolting in his hands, your mouth mumbling incoherent words. His other hand reaches up and grabs the front of your neck, applying slight pleasure that causes you to whimper. He bends over you, causing him to push deeper and for your walls to spasm. You’re close, you don't know how long you’ll last with him hitting your g-spot and his hand pinching and teasing your bud.

“Yeah? You like that, nena? Gonna cum all over my cock?” His words are cooed in your ear and you can’t help the small nod your head does in response.

Your agreement causes Miguel to grunt, quickening his fingers to press tight circles to your clit. Stuttering gasps leave your mouth, eyes rolling back as you feel that pressure about to explode. With a sharp flick of his fingers and his hold tightening on your throat, you cry out his name as you explode. His hand leaves your throat, your head slumping forward to rest on the desk as he continues to thrust into you. Your body spasms as he doesn’t let up on your clit. You don’t think he even hears your sobs, begging for him to stop as his thrusts turn sloppy. Your pleads are drowned out by his heavy moans as he snaps his hips into you desperately, hand wrapping your hair around his fist as he desperately tries to finish.

With a grumbling grunt, his hips snap forward and still. A weak moan leaves your lips as you feel his warm seed fill you. Miguel’s heavy pants mix with yours, trying to catch his breath as his hands slide to your hips. He pulls out of you with a hiss, collapsing onto his office chair that groans with his sudden weight. He watches with a soft moan as a mix of cum follows after his cock, white liquid leaving your entrance and running down your thigh. A small whimper leaves you as you feel it, looking over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s hungry eyes.

After a few minutes, Miguel grunts and reaches for a few tissues from the tissue box on his desk. He wipes off the cum from your skin, throwing away the napkins and pulling your skirt back over you. Hesitantly, you stand back up again, fixing your hair quickly while clearing your throat. You don’t meet Miguel’s eyes right away, looking at your heels on the floor before trailing up to his face. He still has a cocky smile on his face as he tucks his cock back into his pants. He gently guides you to the side of his desk, grabbing the file and pen that fell.

You watch in shock as he opens it, beginning to work as if he didn’t just fuck you over his desk seconds ago. He chuckles at your shocked expression, not looking up from his work. “Be a doll and get me a coffee, yeah?”

Your mouth falls open more at his casual request. You blink at him, before straightening up and fixing up your blouse the best you can. You reply with a curt ‘yes, sir’, before you begin walking towards the door. The breeze between your legs makes you stop before you exit, warmth flooding your cheeks as you slowly turn around.

“Um, Mr. O’Hara,” You don’t look at him as you clear your throat, “Can I have my panties back, please?”

Even with his face turned towards his desk, you can see the small smile on his face, “Don’t know what you mean, I’m afraid.”

Your eyes widen and you resist the urge to stomp your foot like a child. You nod, letting out a deep breath as you clench your hands. As you open the door and are about to close it, your annoying ass boss calls out: “Two sugars.”

Reverse AU Part 1.5 Part 2

Join the Taglist!

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse smut #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader smut #atsv smut #spiderman 2099 smut #cherry's requests🍒#company matters series💎

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green, Part 5

WC:1063, Masterpost

CW: dissociation, self esteem issues, (past) dehumanization, referenced torture and experimentation

Danny flinched, again.

He felt bad for it, Red Robin was being as careful as possible sliding the rubber fabric between the collar and Danny’s skin, but it was just that having hands on the collar like that freaked Danny out. He closed his eyes and mentally ran through the numbers of pi. He used to know over a hundred of them. Now he was only certain of about seventy-six or so. There were a lot of things that used to be so much clearer in his memory than they were now.

“Just the overlap now,” Red (the others just called him Red), said.

He flinched again as Red pressed lightly against his neck to overlap the fabric, but the hands pulled away after.

“Do you need a little break?” the other one, Nightwing, asked.

“No. I just want this off, please,” Danny begged. He had gotten used to begging in the last year. Years?

“We’ll get it off,” Red said confidently.

Danny tried to trust that. He kept his eyes closed.

A gloved hand slipped into Danny’s, giving him something to cling to other than the sheets. Danny recoiled at the touch at first, but when the hand started to pull away, Danny twisted their fingers together and held on tightly. He didn’t open his eyes to see who’s hand he was holding.

As Red started to work on the collar, Danny couldn’t help but tense. He’d been shocked by it so many times. He was like Pavlov’s dog, collar and all, he thought bitterly.

“Almost there,” Red warned.

Danny could tell the instant that the seal of the collar was broken. It was like moving a limb that had fallen asleep, but the pins and needles were everywhere, inside and out. It was agonizing.

It was a relief.

A damp cloth was dabbing under his nose.

He blinked rapidly and Nightwing came into focus. The hero looked so concerned.

“Wha…” Danny croaked.

“Nose bleed,” Nightwing explained. He folded the cloth and set it aside.

Moving slowly (though Danny still struggled to follow the motion) Nightwing reached out and places his hands on either side of Danny’s face. Gently, he tilted it this way and that. “You didn’t exactly lose consciousness, but you… went somewhere else.”

“I do that, I think,” Danny said. The hands started to pull away and Danny swayed after them. One returned to help keep him upright. Danny’s eyes fluttered closed. “It was easier… to be away than there.”

The thumb stroked gently across Danny’s cheek.

He could feel himself tearing up. When was the last time he had been touched with kindness? Why was he now? They didn’t know what he was, that’s why.

“You’re safe here, I promise. You don’t have to go away anymore.”

Jason looked up from the cutting board when Dick came out of the bedroom. Dick did his best to offer his brother a smile as he took a seat on one of the slightly rickety stools at the kitchen counter.

“How is he?” Jason asked. He had swapped his helmet for just a domino. (To Dick it was a pretty clear sign that Jason has already claimed the kid as theirs.)

“Better. The nose bleed stopped and he was fully conscious again,” Dick said. “He says he does that, goes away like that. It sounds like it was a defense mechanism for whatever those bastards put him through.”

“Fucking hell,” Jason muttered.

“Yeah. I’ll let the others know so that anyone looking over him knows to watch out for it. Especially if anyone takes him out shopping or anything…”

“Right,” Jason said with a grimace, clearly picturing how badly that could go.

Dick just gave a little nod. He dragged the table that Tim must have been using close and opened it to check on the rest of the family.

“You, me, and Cass?” Jason asked a few minutes later.

“What?”

“One of us three should always be here, right? Or Babs if we move to a different safe house.”

Dick hummed thoughtfully. “There’s something to be said for moving safe houses if the kid plans to wait awhile before wanting to see Bruce.”

This safe house was bearable, but it really was one of their worse ones. It didn’t even had a table to eat at or a television. They could deal with the one bedroom and a couch, but Dick got the feeling there would be a lot of Bats stopping by whenever possible and that it wouldn’t quite cut it.

“We can see how Kid is tomorrow after rest and food,” Jason said. “If he’s up to being in a car with us we can easily move to any of them.”

“Maybe the one on Rosserie Street?”

“Which one is that?”

“Upper East Side.”

“Ah, yeah,” Jason said with a little nod, pushing the things off his cutting board and into the large pot on the stove. “That one would work. More space and better stuff.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Dick said. It was one of their apartments set up for a long term hideout if one of them was too injured to be seen in public or supposedly out of town as cover. “And big enough beds people can share.”

Jason snorted. “I’ll stick to the couch. The demon brat kicks.”

“Do you think he’ll stop by?” Dick asked as he picked at the thick rubber case on the tablet.

With a heavy sigh, Jason crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “Yeah, I think he will. I think he’ll need to, for his own sake. I’d rather it be when you were here, you’re the only one of us who can really control him if he gets… territorial.”

“He’s been better,” Dick pointed out.

“This is different and you know it. This is blood, even if it’s green. Hell, it being green might actually make it worse.”

Dick groaned and let his head thunk onto the tablet. “Yeah… I’ll talk with him and try to get B and A to also.”

“Yeah,” Jason said and reached over to pat Dick on the back.

Why did being a the oldest have to be so exhausting? And now there was another one. Not that Dick would trade any of them away, but he could really use a vacation, a drink, and a long nap.

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.

---

AN: Dick really really wants to hug Danny but is really really afraid of scaring him. Don't worry, he'll get hugs.

#dp x dc #city pigeons #batpham #trauma tuesday

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phantomarine · 1 year ago

Text

Clam's Quick Tips for Starting Your Very First Webcomic

Howdy! Here are the three bits of advice I tend to give people who ask me about getting into webcomic-making. Maybe they can help you jump into the fray with a little less fear.

1) Make Your First Chapter a Pilot Episode

You will be told by webcomic veterans to start with a short, simple comic idea first - which is wise - but if all you can think about is your big magnum opus, then you might as well hop in, right? Otherwise you'll just be glancing back at the other cooler project forever.

But if you can't start with a small simple story, start on a small, simple part of that larger story. Your first chapter should be a snapshot of the main conflict - show us a simple scene with few characters, ease us in slowly, keep things clear and focus on emotion/impact/clarity. Get the audience to care by offering something easily digested, but full of promise.

Once you're done with that 'pilot' chapter, and you're feeling more comfortable with the whole comic process, you can open the gates and show us the larger world. At that point, you'll be way more ready.

2) Simplify Your Art Style For Your Own Sanity

Always try to make your webcomic's art style as simple as possible - the standard rule is to use only 75% of your artistic skill for every comic page you make. Otherwise you will burn out quickly and terribly.

But you also need to be PROUD of your art style. If you're really feeling itchy, add a couple bells and whistles to your style so you can look at the finished page and say "Yeah, looks cool." You'll find the right balance the more you draw.

Also, don't be afraid to change your art style as you go along. Ultimate consistency is often impossible in webcomics anyway - so embrace your desire to try new things, streamline your work, whatever you feel needs to happen to be happiest. Sometimes the coolest part of reading a webcomic is noticing that style change - so don't hesitate to embrace it!

3) Resist the Reboot! RESIST!

The curse/blessing of drawing the same things over and over is that you'll inevitably get better at drawing those things. The trouble comes when you look back at old stuff and start thinking "Damn, I could draw that way better now."

You must recognize that this feeling never goes away. Not after a hundred pages. Not after three hundred. Not after a thousand.

I think everyone should be allowed one soft reboot for their first webcomic. Redraw some panels that bother you. Change up some dialogue if it doesn't make sense with your new story ideas. Do maintenance, basically. One of the beauties of webcomics is that they can be easily edited, without reprinting a whole book or remaking a whole game.

But if the ultimate purpose of a webcomic is to tell a story, then constant reboots will just be retelling the same story - slightly better each time, but the same at its core. We've heard it before. Most audiences would rather you save your strength and just keep going, rather than circling back year after year and going "Wait wait wait! I'll do it better this time."

Reboot early, not often, and only when you absolutely must! You're a storyteller, and you're constantly getting better at telling your story. Don't be ashamed of it - look back how much ground you've covered, and keep walking!

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That's a good start. Happy webcomicking - don't be afraid to jump in, but be prepared to learn a lot very quickly. And if this advice doesn't work for you or adhere to how you did it, that's absolutely fine - webcomics are diverse by nature, and so are their creation processes. Feel out what works best for you, and good luck!

#phantomarine #webcomic #advice #just talking #writing

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

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7 minutes in heaven (Mingix fem! Reader)

Synopsis: a game of spin the bottle lands on you and Song Mingi for a dare of 7 minutes in heaven.

Right. We all know what’s coming.

Genre/warnings: sexual tension, sex, obviously, unprotected sex, orgasms, hickeys, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names (princess)

Word count: 2.3K

A/n: I just found out like what 7 minutes in heaven meant from my friends and I was instantly like “it’s basically sex???” Bro she was just tired of me at this point.

Also this is pretty fucking filthy. I would love Song fucking Mingi to ruin me like that too. ❤️

Spin the bottle, spin the fucking bottle.

“Oh come on. Just fucking come!” San whines. “You have me there! And Song Mingi is coming!”

“Song Mingi? Why the hell is he going?” You whip your head at San.

“‘Cause he’s Yunho’s friend?” San answers matter-of-factly, scrunching his eyebrows at you. “And he’s your crush?”

“Oh my god, San. Fuck off”, you wave him off in annoyance. As much as he was right, you hated that he was right. You and Mingi’s friendship started through mutual friends, and for some reason, it seemed that you fell for him during the course of the friendship. And you hated that, because the basis of the friendship was just extreme playfulness and constantly getting on each other’s nerves.

On that one time when Yunho teased Mingi about the both of you being a couple, Mingi smacked Yunho, outright denying any ounce of feelings between the both of you.

So now, it was two things—seething hatred and an ugly crush—the biggest paradox of feelings you’ve ever had. You spent the past few weeks lessening your meet ups with Mingi, and he didn’t question why.

And now suddenly a party that he’s gonna be at? No fucking way. San doesn’t relent though, for some reason he was hell-bent on getting you to come, and he wouldn’t tell you exactly why.

“What would it take for you to come?” San questions as he leans into your shoulder, giving you the puppy eyes that could never out-do Yunho’s.

“Five hundred bucks,” you answer, pinching his nose as he winces in pain, slapping your hand away.

“Yeah right”, San rolls his eyes. “I’ll introduce you to someone, okay?”

That isn’t the main point but you sense San’s sincerity, so you decide to humour him.

Little did you know that it would snowball to whatever had happened.

Your arm is hooked around San as the both of you enter Yunho’s spacious apartment, greeting the people as the both of you slither past them to look for the host. San spots Yunho from a distance and waves to him to get his attention. Yunho turns his head and pats the guy beside him to get his attention.

And it was Mingi.

Mingi has an unreadable expression the moment his eyes land on you, noticing your hand around San’s arm. He gives a small smile as the both of you walk over to greet Yunho.

“Hey. I’m glad you made it”, Yunho greets, giving San a hug as San removes himself from you, and then patting your head. Mingi still has his eyes on you, and you pretend not to notice.

“Yeah, I had to hold her at gunpoint for her to come”, San jokes, using your head as an arm rest. You roll your eyes.

“Damn. You really didn’t want to see me that much?” Yunho asks, pressing his palm against his chest, acting heartbroken. You playfully give him a light shove.

“It’s been awhile, y/n. Nice seeing you again”, Mingi chimes in, giving you a smile. You stare back, exchanging a small smile back at him. It had definitely been a couple of weeks since you contacted him, since the bullshit he spout.

“We’re going to play Spin the Bottle now, and you came just in time for that. San, y/n, you wanna join?”

Your gaze holds Mingi’s, almost challenging him and your grip tightens around San’s arm.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

A circle quickly forms as everyone sits, there is about seven people in the circle, a mix of girls and guys, including you and Mingi, both of you sitting across each other. The game goes on pretty normally in the first hour, but as the drinks started flowing in, the questions and dares starting getting more spicy.

In the fourth round, the bottle spins, and it lands on Mingi.

“Truth”, Mingi says.

San pushes the question, “Have you liked anyone in the friend group before.”

You don’t catch Mingi’s gaze at you because you were too busy whispering something to San.

“Yeah.” A few “ooohs” echo in the room and you purse your lips in curiosity.

A few rounds later, the bottle spins, and it lands on you.

“Truth”, you say.

Yunho rubs his hands. “Is there anyone in the room that you wanna kiss?”

Fuck. The alcohol was definitely kicking in, but not enough for you drunkenly answer right away. You really wanted to lie.

Everyone had their eyes on you, curious of your answer, especially Mingi. He’s quiet, his gaze piercing into you, and you catch wind of it. Your anxiety slowly dissipates as you decide to be smug with that motherfucker. You know he’s gazing at you, and you hold the stare before shifting your gaze to San, who was fighting for his life with the alcohol, before saying, “Yes.”

Considering that your small gaze towards San wasn’t missed out by majority of the players, they laugh and clap their hands, evidently fooled by you. You smile as you sip your alcohol.

The bottle spins. And it lands on Mingi.

“Dare”, he says, almost too confidently.

Hongjoong immediately pushes, “Seven minutes in Heaven, to whoever the bottle lands on.”

Mingi scoffs, feeling confident, as he reaches for the bottle to spin it.

It spins, and it the neck lands on you. Your eyes widen in shock because you really did not expect that. Mingi has that unreadable expression on his face again, before Hongjoong smacks his back, reminding him of his dare. The players roar in excitement and whistles.

Seven minutes of being trapped in a room with each other.

Your mind is racing, but you tell yourself, anything could happen, including non-sexual things. The both of you could just sit alone together, albeit in a little bit of awkwardness, and just wait for the seven minutes to pass. Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.

You and Mingi stay seated on the bed of a guest room, not saying anything to each other.

Seven minutes start.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asks after long pause.

“No?” You lie too quickly.

“Then why haven’t you been replying to my texts? We used to hang out so much.”

“I was just busy.”

“Liar.”

You glare at him, and he holds the stare.

“You’re finally looking at me properly”, he says, and your heartbeat ups another notch.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Not really. You couldn’t really blame him, but at the same time, what happened genuinely did make you upset.

“No”, you reply, turning away, only for his fingers grab your chin.

He sighs. “Please stop looking away from me. It’s driving me crazy.”

Good. That’s cause he deserves it. The way his fingers are pressing onto your chin was starting to make you heat up.

“No. It’s mostly a me problem”, you vaguely tell him. “You sure you’re okay with doing this when you have a crush within the friend group?” You ask, as you lie onto the cold sheets.

Mingi doesn’t answer you, but he towers over you, looking at you with some sort of lust and desire—it was looking very dangerous.

“I’ll answer you non-verbally, if I get your consent”, he responds, his breathing getting heavier. You decided to take him on and nod.

He leans in and kisses you, feeling every part of your mouth, as he groans into your mouth. The alcoholic taste lingers, mixed with his saliva, tasted strangely sweet. He pulls your shirt off as you unbuckle his jeans.

The way his wet and leaking cock presses onto his underwear fucking scares you because he was so fucking big. He tugs your bottoms and undergarments off, almost too desperately, then soaking his fingers with his spit as he starts rubbing your clit slowly. Electric pulses through your spine, in pleasure as your back arches, and soft moans are leaving you.

He plunges in both hands when he deems you wet enough and you cry out as his fingers curl into you.

Five minutes.

He continues to fuck you with his fingers and you hands claw his arms, desperate for something more hotter, and bigger.

He pulls out, leaving you clenching at nothing. Mingi’s underwear is removed way too quickly and you gasp at his length and girth. He was not fucking around. He wraps his hands around his cock and pumps it a few times, giving you a small show of his groans and small bucking hips.

Four minutes.

Mingi lift your legs to his shoulder as you lay on your side as he slides his cock into you, before fucking you into the bed, his grunts and moans filling up the room. Fuck. His cock is too fucking big. It’s just dragging against every single nerve in your wall. Your hands were gripping onto the sheets, as you fail to keep your composure, and your moans.

“Fuck. You’re so tight”, Mingi exhales as he pulls out before slamming into you again as he drinks your whimpers and cries. “So fucking good.”

He lets your leg fall, and he fucks you from behind, his hands gripping your hips. Your limbs were starting to feel numb from the pleasure. He stops for a second before grabbing your waist, to put your back to lie against his chest. This only fucks up your sanity because his cock was stuffing your wet and abused cunt from the bottom.

“Mingi, it’s too much—fuck—so fucking big”, you cry out, your mind going hazy as he sucks against the skin on your neck. Your head was lolled back, and your eyes are rolled back too, feeling nothing but the sensation of Mingi’s cock going in and out of your hole, as you cream on his cock. Fuck, it felt like heaven.

“Such a good girl. Keep moaning for me”, Mingi hums as he, himself, also was struggling to form coherent thoughts as you were squeezing him out. His moans were trapped in your head because his lips were close to your ear. His fingers pinching your nipples before slapping your cunt gently, causing you to squeal and tighten around him and his voice goes up and octave.

“We have three more minutes,” Mingi says, his eyes glancing at the small timer facing the both of you. “We should really at least finish it with something good—like this”, he says as pushes into you so deeply and your body becomes paralysed, his cock slightly bulging your abdomen, your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. Your thighs tremble as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. Your pussy flutters around his cock as your orgasm hits you in waves. Mingi thrusts in you shallowly, his full cock still deep in you.

“Y/n, you’re creaming so much. It feels so fucking good. I’m gonna cum too, Princess”, he encourages, rubbing your clit in slow circles, tightening another knot in your abdomen.

Two minutes.

Mingi just wants to continue fucking into you until he’s satisfied, and once you feel his cock twitch in you, you know he’s close.

“So tell me, who was it did you want to kiss between the guys?” He suddenly asks, slowly decelerating his thrusts, and you were about to lose your fucking mind.

“Was it Choi fucking San?” He asks, his fingers cupping your chin to ensure you face him. He smiles, loving how fucked out you looked, ruined by him. “Tell me, princess.”

He pulls out in such a slow and painful speed that your thighs tremble from the way his cock just drags against your walls.

His grip on your cheeks lower to your neck, and he gently squeezes.

“Answer me”, he demands.

One minute.

“Fuck—it’s you. It’s fucking Song Mingi!” You cry out, craving his cock to fill you up like cockslut you were.

His eyes grow wild as he lets go of your throat , his hands slithering to your bottom of your thighs, spreading them even more as he bottoms out in you, slamming his cock right into you until you start seeing fucking stars behind your eyelids.

“Good girl. Take my fucking cum”, he says as he fucks into you one more time, his cock squirting strings of cum right into your pussy as your second orgasm overwhelms you, leaving you whimpering and shaking from the overstimulation as Mingi empties in you.

The timer goes off, the alarm annoyingly loud. Mingi gingerly pulls out of you as you twitch, and lets your head rest on the pillows. Your cunt was still throbbing, as it flutters at nothing while Mingi’s cum leaks out of you. He looks at you and smirks, like you are his favourite masterpiece. He inches forward and presses his lips onto yours as he strokes your hair.

“That’s my princess. I think it’s pretty obvious but I like you. I really, fucking like you”, he confesses. As you were about to reply through half-lidded eyes, the door knocks.

Mingi pulls the sheets over you before answering the door. Yunho had his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. He spots you heaving softly against the guest bed and immediately puts two and two together.

“She’s not playing anymore,” Mingi answers, blocking his view.

Yunho scoffs. “Took the both of you fucking long enough. The tension was crazy. We’re going to get more drinks so the both of you can continue your own little game.”

Mingi laughs as Yunho leaves, before shutting the door behind him.

He stares at you, curled up in bed, still looking dazed, and walks over to you. He pulls the sheets off, and a mix of his cum and your arousal just dripping past your inner thighs, red flushing your ass and your cheeks.

Mingi licks his lips, suddenly hungry again as he towers over you to spread your legs once more, pushing in a finger way too easily, the sounds of his cum squelching out of your pussy as your eyes roll back again. His fingers cup your chin, forcing you to face his lustful gaze.

“Seven minutes are up but now we’ve got all the time in the world, princess. I’ll show what real heaven feels like.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #kpop fic #kpop smut #ateez Mingi #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi x y/n

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1427 · 10 months ago

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something to prove pt 2

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), hand stuff, squirting.

Word Count: 2k

A/n: sorry this isn’t as spicy as the first one but. Idk. I also feel like y’all are gonna kill me if I don’t make a part that has Daryl actually get some. But. Idk.

17+ mdni

\\part 1\\

masterlist

You touch yourself in front of Daryl almost every time he comes over and your mom leaves the house. Finding him in the same spot, the remote on his knee, waiting for you. Head turned to the side as he chews at his thumb, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. His other knee anxiously bouncing. Sometimes he’s smoking, other times he’s not.

You notice all of these things because you notice everything in those moments right before you play with yourself for him. Every time you’re alone in your room you’d wish you had the courage to actually talk to him. Maybe touch him? Anything. Everything about him made you burn. And yet you kept an aching distance. Three feet away, and on the floor. Never any closer.

Eventually Daryl and Merle lose whatever living arrangements they’d had and your mom invites them to crash in the living room.

This doesn’t change anything between you and Daryl. There’s more lingering stares exchanged but you still don’t really speak. Especially in front of your mom and Merle. They never seem to notice the tension that’s wrapped itself around the two of you, hanging in the air. This very dirty secret you and Daryl indulged in every time they leave.

Luckily you didn’t share the space with them often. Only ever escaping your room to eat, leave the house, or put on a show for Daryl when they’d inevitably travel to the city every few days.

You’ve been gearing yourself up to do something more, but what? It takes you a week to decide and then another week to actually work up the nerve to do it.

You wait for Daryl to fall asleep. For some reason you know if he watches you come down the stairs, observes you walking up to him, you’d end up wimping out. So you wait for him to be asleep, 3am should do it, and then you wait a little longer.

With every step down the stairs your heart beats harder. You feel out of your body, just barely there as your feet make small but deliberate steps toward Daryl, asleep sitting up in the arm chair. Until suddenly you’re back in your body, standing over him.

You use your leg to jostle against his, causing him to stir. Waiting until his sleepy eyes open and meet yours. Too late to back out now, basically on top of him. But you’re frozen in place, you can’t make your mouth say the words that you’d practiced a hundred times. The words screaming in your head.

You’re both just staring at each other. Daryl’s obviously waiting for you to speak, or do something. But he doesn’t mind just staring at you. He doesn’t mind the waiting. After all, his favorite times are when you’re in front of him - and you’re in front of him now.

He doesn’t usually get to see this side of you. The front. Your face. The light of the TV is all blues and pinks and something inside Daryl swells. A warm gush of longing from his chest into his throat. Prickling at his skin. Not just longing to touch you, but something more. Something else. He doesn’t even want to speak, he’s enjoying just watching the colors dance across your cheeks and nose and the almost tangible warmth of the moment.

You’re out of your body again, but you hear yourself say it, “Will you touch me this time?”

Daryl’s been waiting for this. He’s thought about it so many times, in so many different ways. Wondering, seemingly ever free second of the day, when you were going to take it further. And how. He’s grateful that this is what you’d asked for, instead of maybe asking him to fuck you. He couldn’t do that. He could, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to. Doesn’t think he’d be able to even pull his cock out in front of you without passing away, and going to hell.

He swallows and nods while still looking up at you. His eyes move along with his fingertips, his right hand grabbing your left wrist and moving you to sit back in his lap.

You perch on him. Leaning back to place your feet on either one of his knees. Spreading your legs like this felt more lewd than you’d imagined it would, but because he’s behind you you’re not embarrassed by it, and you’re not shy about it. It snares something deep inside you, that even though your t-shirt is mostly covering your wet heat you're still so very out in the open.

Daryl snakes one arm around your waist and the other between your legs, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He wants to feel all the way up your leg from the knee. To see how much and how far you’d dripped down your thighs while you were standing there staring at him.

His fingers get slick about halfway up your leg and it takes everything in him not to put them in his mouth immediately. He’s been dying to taste you since that day. The first one. You never wipe your hand on him like the first time and he wants you to so badly, every time. And every time his voice gets caught in his throat and he doesn’t.

And now your sweet tangy mess was coating his fingertips. Your muscles are tense, the feeling of his digits slowly creeping closer to your center. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, “Please. Help.. me.” You whine, edging your hips forward just a little, using your feet to leverage. But the arm he has wrapped around your waist pulls you back flush against him. That’s when you feel him for the first time. Hard and digging into your ass cheek. A low groan escapes his lips, and he holds you even tighter.

Daryl leans his forehead against the back of your shoulder, trying to pull himself together a little bit. You asked for his help, for him to touch you. But he’s so nervous, what if he does it wrong? He’s watched you so many times that even if he hadn’t known how to get a woman off before, he certainly knew how to get you off now. Still, he worries. Afraid he’s going to fuck it up.

Finally, his middle finger slides down the center of your arousal. Running over your clit, down to your hole, and back. You can feel the nervousness in his touch, the anticipation that’d been building up in him for months. You whimper, looking down your body to watch his hand as it gets acquainted with your cunt. God, is this what you looked like when he watched you? Your pussy swollen with desire, sopping wet, and visibly trembling? It was so deliciously vulgar.

His fingers slip around your folds, like yours do when you’re too wet like this. You whine, even though he’s touching you it’s not enough. Or, rather, it’s only making it worse without the pressure to accompany such touches. He gives up on trying to spread your lips to delicately and masterfully work your clit, the way he’s watched you do, and instead rubs your whole messy pussy with three of his fingers. Pressing against your mound hard. This elicits a deep groan from you, one that you can already feel building into a scream. Nothing you’ve ever experienced has felt like this.

He rubs around in the mess while you still watch from above. It doesn’t take long for your hips to start shaking uncontrollably. Whimpering and groaning you start to feel that hunger again. The insatiable one, needing something inside of you. He waits until you say, “P-please.” Your hips trying to move into his hand, but he keeps his grip on you so tight that your stuck in place. On his lap and at his mercy.

Daryl wants to make you wait, wants to ask you to say please again. Wants to hear you beg in every language so that he’d have more words to remember falling out of your mouth like this. But he can’t control himself either. He’s been imagining what your walls would feel like contracting around his fingers for so long. It’s all he fuckin’ thinks about anymore.

White hot. You feel his fingers all the way up to the knot in your throat and you choke on it. Each time he curls his two fingers, you feel it like a pang in your lungs, knocking the wind out of you. Daryl can’t stop, pressing into that spot of you, your breath hitching in your throat over and over. Your pussy clenches every time, he scissors his fingers as he pulls them out of you, to see those juicy lips stretch out around them. He needs more. Wants to fill you up until you burst. “More?” Is all he can manage to ask.

You nod feverishly, your muscles moving against every pressure, your hips practically vibrating on top of him. Daryl swallows and readies a third finger, shoving all three thick digits into your greedy cunt without any hesitation.

“Sh-shit.” You choke out, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. Daryl has to hold onto you so tightly, that one arm isn’t enough. With three fingers deep inside you, he closes his palm tight to your mound and holds onto you like that. Like the inside of you is a handle he’s latched his fingers into to lock you on top of him. And the way your ass slides back over his cock is too much. He has to do it again.

He rocks you back and forth. Pushing you down by your pelvic bone with him hooked inside you and over his clothed rage. It’s amazing. The way his palm pushes and rubs against your clit again and again, the way he’s moving your body against him. Pushing you and pulling over his hard cock by your cunt. He’s afraid maybe he’s hurting you, but your body tells him that he’s not. He’s never seen someone so let go from their inhibitions before. No one’s ever shown them this side of themselves for him. He loves it.

You think you're about to orgasm, the sight alone is enough, but it doesn’t come. It just keeps building. Deep in your stomach, all the way up your spine. Down to your toes curling into his thighs. And it keeps building. You’ve never experienced something like this, it almost scares you.

Daryl can tell that you’re close, every single muscle is strained against him. He’s using everything he’s got to keep you on his lap, his arm muscles taut and rigid around your writhing body.

Your orgasm pushes out of you in a scream, your pussy gushing. Warm squirt jetting out from your body and all over Daryl’s hand. All over the floor. Your legs shake, your feet bouncing into the air and spasming completely out of control.

He just holds you for a moment, his muscles still flexed around you. He keeps his fingers inside. Relishing in and memorizing each time your pussy pulsates around him, until it stops. Finally he loosens his grip and pulls away.

The emptiness almost makes you want to cry, especially after such an orgasm. You’d never done that before. You didn’t know you could. You don’t want Daryl to see you cry, to get the wrong idea. Plus, what? Were you guys going to talk afterward? You never had before. No… it was over. And you had to go lest winding up a sobbing mess on the floor in front of him. On top of your own cum.

So you leave him. Falling away from his body delicately. Feeling the cold air on your legs makes you feel even emptier. You still bounce away, jogging up the stairs like you always do.

And Daryl watches you go, no wiser to the fact that you were somehow upset. Not upset, overwhelmed. Over sensitive. Over… everything. Every emotion was too much.

His hand that’s covered in you has been hanging off the side of the arm chair, waiting for you to disappear. He’s been trying to decide if he wants to lick every drop from his hand while he jerks off with the other, or to use your juice as lubricant. He decides to do the former. Savoring every tangy morsel he can until there’s nothing left; even though he came when he was on the second finger.

A/n: actually nah, there’s gonna be another part prob.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

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Let Me Get Them For You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never hesitates to get Y/N what she wants.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Even though Y/N has told Rafe countless times, he does the best he can to be a provider for her, buying her food, clothes, books, scientific equipment he doesn’t understand what it does and anything else he can think of. He will literally do everything in his power to get her the whole world. They are at the mall shopping for a new leather jacket for him. They’ve been there for a few hours, taking their time to peruse around the stores. Her stomach begins to cry out its need for sustenance. As they continue to the next store, a delicious buttery and salty smell enters the air. Her head turns in the direction of where this sensory stimulus is coming from. The small glance toward Auntie Anne’s Pretzels does not go unnoticed by her boyfriend. He pauses immediately, yet she continues to walk, so he loops his arm through her to pull her back to his side. “What’s wrong?” she questions with a tilt of her head. He points toward the pretzel store, “I’m hungry. Why don’t we get a snack? A cheese one, right?” “You know me so well,” she beams. He chuckles and presses his lips against her temple. He leads her toward the register and orders their salty snack.

———

It is no secret that Y/N is an avid reader. Her TBR list is in the hundreds and it continues to grow. Rafe’s mission is to make that list dwindle to zero, despite what Y/N might say. Sometimes, he’ll add books to that list by himself. The couple is hanging out in the library. She is studying and he is only there to keep her company. An hour into her studying session he pulls her away from her textbooks and notes to take a break and eat a snack. Her eyes wander while she nibbles on the cheese and crackers he hands to her, landing on a book cover that catches her eyes. The pink-themed watercolour cover features a forest with a rope bridge. It’s beautiful and the title is quite simple. Unravel Me. Rafe sees her attention isn’t on him and follows the gaze to the novel in another person's hands. She moves her eyes back to him, but he still takes note of the title. After the snack, she goes back to studying and he focuses on his phone. He decides to search for the book and finds out it is a hockey romance series. It sounds right up Y/N’s alley, so he orders Topper to go to the store and buy her the full set.

———

The most outrageous example of Rafe being Rafe when it comes to buying Y/N things is when he orders expensive objects for her right on the spot. It is date night and he decides to take her to the new upscale bar that opened up off campus. He pulls her chair out for her, allowing her to hop onto the tall chair. While she tells him about her tests, her eyes are trained on something at the bar. She must really like whatever she is looking at because she stands from the chair and approaches a woman. Rafe is right behind her, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but I really like your bag. Where did you get it?” she asks the redhead. The other woman grins and holds her bag up, “Thank you! It’s from Coach. I can’t remember what it’s called though. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. You gave me enough to go off of. Thank you so much. Have a nice night,” Y/N bids goodbye to her. Throughout the whole interaction, Rafe’s attention is on his phone. They get back to their table and he holds up his screen to her. The Coach website is pulled up on Safari with a picture of a light tan bag that has a dragon on it. Boxed New Year Rogue 25 With Dragon is written above the picture along with the price of $1,090.

“This is the one you want, right?” he confirms. Her eyes widen at the price, “Yes, but I didn’t know it was that expensive. I like it, just not for that price.” He ignores her worries and goes back to typing on his phone. “Look at this one. I’m gonna get it for you too. I think it’s cute,” he tells her, sliding his phone across the table to her. She sees two items in his cart: the dragon purse and the heart bag in regenerative leather. The total amount before tax is $1,490, which is completely outrageous to her. She shakes her head, “You can’t buy these, Rafe. This is way too much.” “Come on, let me get them for you, Angel. You know money is no issue for me,” he pleads, giving her the best puppy eyes he can.

“It’s not an issue for me. What am I going to do with something so luxurious?”

“Look like an absolute queen while you flaunt it around. Show other men that I can provide for you. Hand it over to me while you put your lip gloss on, so you can mark your territory. You deserve this luxury and so many more, Angel.”

“This is really important to you. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, so… what do you say?”

“Fine. You can get them.”

A smirk craves itself onto his face and he puts in his credit card information to finalize the purchase. He shows her the shipping information, “It should be here by next week, Angel.” “Thank you, Rafe. I can’t wait to use them,” she shows her gratitude by giving him a kiss.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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