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dearmisshoney · 4 months ago

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flesh light & prone bones

synopsis. coming home from brunch, you expected an empty apartment — not to catch your cocky roommate mattheo fucking a fleshlight to the thought of you. curiosity turns to temptation, and you both realize toys could never replace the real thing.

pairing. roommate! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, roommate!au, pervert!reader, cocky!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, implied gymrat!mattheo, fleshlight-fucking, assisted masturbation, voyeurism to participation, filthy teasing, praise, dirty talk, name-calling (sweetheart, baby), overstimulation, allusion to edging, spit play, cum eating, doggy-style/prone bone (?), headlock/slight choking, slight spanking, unprotected p in v!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. this one goes to @pizzaapeteer! she convinced me to write another matty fic! let me know what you think. likes and reblogs are appreciated

inserting the keys in the lock and turning them twice, you finally locked the front door. leaving them to dangle in the door, you slowly made your way inside your shared apartment with mattheo. you only stopped for a moment in the hallway, removing your shoes and the purse you’ve been carrying around your brunch date with the girls.

but not your wired headphones.

no, you’d rather keep those in for the time being, preferring to listen to any kind of music than to mattheo rambling about sports and the like. you weren’t even sure he was home; he had a really bad habit of keeping to himself the important information, disclosing only dumb details like how much his bench press has improved.

but as you make your way further into the apartment, you realize he is home. the opened cardboard box on the kitchen island, the ripped package, and the violently scattered foam bits were a clear indicator that mattheo was at home.

“this jerk never cleans after himself.” you mumbled underneath your breath, extremely quiet, and if it weren’t for the fact that you said these words, you wouldn’t have been able to hear them thanks to your loud music.

mattheo was not the perfect roommate. he was flashy, annoying, messy. he also seems to respect the concept of privacy only when it applies to him; if you try to count the times you’ve found him in your room like a pervert, you wouldn’t have enough fingers, hands and feet combined.

nonetheless, he was paying his share of the rent in time, and if you yell at him a bit, he does clean around as well.

curious as ever, you approached the box to figure out what mattheo ordered.

“kidney failure is written all over him.”

it was probably another gigantic container of protein powder, or creatine, or whatever powders he uses for the gym and his godly physique, as he likes to call it. mattheo has an entire lower kitchen cabinet dedicated to his fitness journey, so such purchases were not uncommon.

with all that in mind, the cardboard box seemed too small compared to his usual orders. the box was also a different shape than the usual huge square cube mattheo gets his supplements in. twisting and turning the package in your hands, your eyes scanned the surface for any sort of clue — a company name, a product name, heck, even a cringey motto about gym life.

but nothing.

the package was blank, discreet.

the foam chunks were of no help, and the shipping paper was torn to pieces.

“he really wanted what’s inside, huh?”

you might as well check the cabinet and see if a new container has been added. that way, the mystery will be solved quicker.

bending at the knees, you dropped down to mattheo’s gym stash and swung open the door. this cabinet was the only place mattheo kept all clean and organized, so you immediately realized no new product was added.

“what the fuck did he buy?”

muttering to yourself again, you raise from your position, prepared to investigate the torn paper. only to have your wired headphones latched around the cabinet knob and snatched out of your ears.

“ugh– this shi–”

“fuck, hmm, so good.”

now that your ears were no longer trapped by your headphones — which were now pathetically hanging around the knob — you could hear mattheo. and the nasty noises he was making.

he was loud.

“ah, ah, ah.”

his voice was low and raspy, and if it weren’t for the clear needy tone in his words, you would’ve said he was just having a bit too much fun with his video games.

that was not the case, however.

“s–so wet, damn.”

and with that, your brain short-circuits for good.

your entire body froze, one hand clenched around your knotty headphones, the other stiffing up by your side, clawing at the material of your shorts. you stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to process what the fuck you just heard.

maybe it wasn’t him. maybe it was porn, playing from his expensive speakers in his room.

yeah. yeah.

but no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, another guttural moan from mattheo shattered any sort of argument you could come up with.

that was him.

“tight as fuck, shittt.”

not only was mattheo home — he was very home, in his room, jacking off. owning the place and being as vocal as he liked.

“so good, so good.”

you wished to be angry and annoyed at him. you wished to slam your hand on the kitchen counter and yell his name to stop. you wished, you truly did, but something in you was fighting against these urges. something primal was itching at your brain, making your teeth bite into your lips, your hands clenching tighter.

something primal was itching at your stomach, making your tummy do a flip, your panties all wet.

“oh, baby, ohhh–”

you inhaled sharply, closing your eyes in an attempt to disconnect from the situation at hand and think straight.

i should just leave…

“ugh, damn.”

…pretend i heard nothing…

“it feels amazingggg.”

…and just take another walk.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…”

yeah, i can do it–

you thought you could fight back, but your entire resolve collapsed when you heard your name moaned by mattheo.

that deep, rumbling voice, grunting your name without any shame. again, and again, and again.

“that pussy would feel so much better, i just know.”

so raw and desperate.

completely discarding your headphones, you finally moved. but not towards the front door.

tiptoeing down the hallway, you crept closer and closer to mattheo’s room. the wooden floor was slightly creaking underneath your footsteps, but neither you, nor mattheo seem to pay attention to it. he was too caught up in pleasure, and you were too turned on to care.

“you’d be so warm and– fuckk–”

mattheo was rambling on his own, groaning your name from time to time and vocalizing his dirtiest thoughts about you. and as wrong as this was — eavesdropping on your roommate fucking his fist, there was no shame in you. quite the opposite: his nasty words shoot directly at your core, making arousal pool in your panties and stick to your weeping cunt.

his door was slightly ajar. the close proximity allowed you to bathe into the obscene wet sounds he was making, now clearly registering the rhythmic movement of his thrusts. it was wet, stickily so, the sloshing noises being a definite indicator of mattheo’s need.

the close proximity also allowed you to dip your head in and take a peak.

but you shouldn’t. everyone has sexual urges and it was wrong for you–

“sweetheart, please…”

your head instantly turned towards the crack of the door, the pet name practically latching onto your neck and twisting you around to finally see him.

and you gasped.

that was not a hand.

there was mattheo, sprawled on his bed, completely naked. upper body leaning against the headboard, head thrown back. lower body jutting up and down from the mattress, thrusting with urgency into a pale grey fleshlight.

your thighs clamped into one another, your tiny shorts riding upwards on your legs, seam digging into your clit. you did your best not to snake your hand down into your panties to touch yourself, choosing to use it to steady yourself against the door.

you knew mattheo was hot.

hot was an understatement, really. as much as you liked to make fun of his cocky attitude and his pride for his godly physique, you couldn’t deny it. mattheo riddle was attractive beyond compare, and seeing him in this position made you want to jump on him and fuck him to death.

“shit– to have that sweet cunt all to myself…”

he was high on lust, babbling to himself between moans, jerking that new fleshlight to a sloppy rhythm. his abs were flexing with every rock of his hips; his arm, strained from the pressure of tightly gripping the sex toy, was a sharp valley of muscles, scattered with protruding veins.

“will you let me have you, sweetheart?”

shit.

his voice, still sultry and lustful, now had an undertone of arrogance. his head, previously lolling back against the wall, was now upright — his chocolate eyes staring right at you.

he caught you.

and he was proud of that.

“ah– don’t ignore me, baby.”

you couldn’t answer. words got stuck in your throat, your brain refusing to cooperate. you could only focus on the lazy movements of his hand, now guiding the fleshlight up and down his cock.

his cock, so hard and stiff. drenched in precum and lube. his cock, so red and pulsing, throbbing against the inside of the toy and begging for more.

his chest was raising and falling rapidly, visibly affected by the entire ordeal. the tips of his curls were sticking to his forehead, skin all sweaty and slick. yet, mattheo seemed more composed than you were.

“after i’ve called for you so nicely…”

he smirked, dragging the toy all the way down to his base with a deep groan; sheltering his entire shaft into the poor fleshlight.

“…could at least help me out, sweetheart.”

he did it all intentionally.

it wasn’t like mattheo did not know you got home. he knew, and that urged him to masturbate even more.

you swallowed thickly, still unsure whether to step in or not. a part of you wanted to join him desperately; the other part was arguing for you to leave and cool off alone.

mattheo could see the storm behind your gaze. and he knew how to help you decide.

suddenly, he removed the fleshlight from his shaft completely, letting the sex toy fall from his hand somewhere on the mattress. letting you see the way his stiff cock escaped from its confinement, stood tall for a few seconds, then flopped to the side.

“you’re a manwhore, mattheo.”

it’s all you managed to say as you stepped into the room, removing your cardigan, and throwing it somewhere on his floor.

“you say it like it’s a bad thing, baby.”

he hissed between his teeth, brushing off your ‘compliment’ and focusing on your actions. removing your outer layer, you were now nicely standing in a cropped tee and the tiniest fucking shorts he has ever seen you wear.

and when you seated yourself next to him on the bed, his cock twitched against his thigh hard.

“what if i had guests, hm?”

your voice was condescending, mean. your gaze sharp and accusatory.

but that only turned him on more.

mattheo let out a short, breathy laugh, licking over his lips. your question was of little importance to him. his eyes were focused on you only, hypnotized by your entire existence.

“but you don’t.”

he was so shameless, so brazen. his gaze was dancing along your body, making a first stop on your perky tits, another on the exposed skin of your thighs.

even if you had guests, he wouldn’t have acted differently.

“pervert.”

you spat at him like you were disgusted by his behaviour, yet your hand drew closed to the sex toy and brought it back into the spotlight.

“who would’ve thought–…”

you grabbed the base of his cock without warning, eliciting a strangled moan from mattheo.

“–that you’d–”

gathering some of your spit, you let the liquid drip all the way down to his cock, hitting the throbbing tip and gliding down the side of his cock.

“oh, fuck, wait–”

“–get a fleshlight.”

positioning the fleshlight at the right angle, you dragged it all the way down. his hips buckled involuntarily, the sudden stimulation making his thighs shake.

“why not fuck a real woman?”

you began moving the toy slowly, guiding it up and down. twisting and turning your wrist with expertise, you tried to mimic the way mattheo was jerking himself off before your intrusion.

“oh my god, this is so hot.”

mattheo was still taken aback by the entire situation: not only did you join him in bed, you were now pumping his cock with this newly bought sex toy, making him writhe around his bedsheets.

“so easily pleased.”

you hummed, mocking the way mattheo was already succumbing to pleasure.

he tried to take charge again, raising his torso from the headboard, but you were quicker. with a hand on his chest, you harshly pushed him back down, causing him to drop even closer to the mattress than before.

“answer me, mattheo!”

your speed around his shaft slowed, now dragging the toy at an agonizingly low pace. seeing your roommate mattheo scrunch his face in both pain and pleasure was irresistible.

“t–they’re not you.”

“not me?”

you did not expect such an answer. but he seemed to have answered truthfully, so you reward him by speeding up again.

“ah, ah, ah, sweetheart.”

mattheo was gasping now, hips chasing every glide of the toy like his life depends on it. his eyes were blown-out, half-lidded, heavy with lust; his mouth parted, his lips glossy with spit.

he hated how much of an effect you had on him, but he couldn’t do much.

your hand did anything but falter. the wet suction of the fleshlight was echoing louder and louder between the two of you, almost harmonizing with mattheo’s moans. he was putty under your control, and that made your cunt throb hard.

“and is this toy me?”

you seemed almost mad that he’d compare you with a stupid inanimate object: your lovely lips formed a pout, and your eyes widened with pretend sadness. all of it to emotionally taunt and pester mattheo.

“i can’t fuck you.”

mattheo raised his tone, exhasperated by your little accusations. why were you playing dumb? you would never let him blow your back, so a fleshlight was the onl–

“who said that?”

“huh?”

“who said you can’t fuck me?”

you tilted your head mockingly, putting all your effort into squeezing the base of the toy harder. you wanted to make him cum, you wanted to make him shoot his seed deep into the fleshlight.

“oh, baby, baby baby–”

he was chanting pet names like a mantra, his fingers clawing at the sheets with desperation. his jaw was clenched, and the veins on his forearms were accentuated even more.

he was close. so close.

“c–can i actually fuck you?”

oh, he was so damn cute. such a big beefy guy, asking for permission, on the verge of tears.

“of course you can.”

mattheo did not answer that. only a long and loud groan left his lips, head digging against the headboard more and more. his body jolted once, twice, then shuddered hard as thick ropes of cum filled the toy.

you could feel the way the fleshlight became heavier with each passing second. you could also hear the slick squelches of it, louder and wetter, as you were still gliding it on his cock — milking him dry.

“give me all you’ve got!”

mattheo was done for. he looked absolutely wrecked, absolutely ruined — you loved it.

“f–fuck, no more, please.” he whined, tossing his head to the side from overstimulation.

you had no intention of stopping, really. but something about mattheo pleading to be released changed your resolve. so, with one final drag up his sensitive cock, you released him.

his cum oozed out of the toy in thick drips immediately, staining his crotch and abs.

“damn, you really filled it up!”

holding the toy up for inspection, you could see his release seeping more and more out of it. it was creamy and gooey, and it made you wonder how it tastes.

“oh, shut up, you–”

raising the fleshlight higher, you stuck out your tongue and allowed some of his cum to land on it. the salty taste spread across your mouth in an instant.

and instead of spitting it, you happily swallowed.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

mattheo witnessed the entire thing. his cock did too, hardening again against his abs.

“wanna compare it with the real thing?”

and there it was — an even deadlier proposal from you.

you did not even wait for his answer, certain he will agree. rather, you discarded the toy completely, dropping it on the floor, choosing to turn around and bend over for mattheo.

“want? i need it.”

you heard him barely mutter behind you, as eager as before. he retracted his legs from the mattress, allowing you the space to position yourself on your hands and knees for him.

“fuck, baby, your shorts are soaked.”

mattheo now had a clear view of the effect he had on you: your tiny cotton shorts were stained with a big patch of arousal, butchered up all the way into your cunt. heck, if he tried more, he could define the outline of your pussy through your clothes.

“c’mon, mattheo, fuck me!”

you mewled at him like a vixen, arching your back into him and shaking your clothed ass. you instantly felt mattheo’s rough hands cupping the fat of your behind, caressing the skin and even dipping his fingers underneath your shorts.

feeling around. exploring.

“mattheo, huryyyyy”

“shut up.” he growled at you, striking your right buttcheek in a sharp and swift motion. “let me admire you.”

he continued to roam his hands all over you, feather touches all over your skin — exposed or not.

but not for long, as his patience was wearing thin as well.

gripping the hem of your shorts and panties at the same time, mattheo finally dragged them down to your bent knees, exposing that warm and needy hole to his eyes.

“fuck, how could i assume–”

mattheo grasped the base of his cock and, stepping closer to you, he immediately brushed the tip of his cock across your folds, gathering and spreading your wetness around.

“–that i can replace you–”

just to torture you back, he pushed his shaft against your pulsing hole, applying enough pressure for you to feel him, but not enough to enter you.

“–with a mere toy?”

“please, mattheo…”

and there it was, you begging. exactly what he was waiting for.

with your sweet plea on your lips, mattheo finally thrusted inside of you. impatient as ever, he stuffed you full from the beginning, reaching the deepest part of your cunt and hitting that sensitive spot with his tip.

“fuck, it’s so hot.”

ah, you were stuffed to the brim.

“and your walls are sucking me in.”

you could feel every vein and ridge on his cock, pressing deliciously against you.

“loosen up, sweetheart. shit. i can’t move.”

and you did your best to listen, but your hungry pussy was sucking him in like a vice. with your cunt gripping tightly around his shaft, mattheo managed to pull out only halfway.

“i won’t last long, baby.”

and then he thrusted back in. hard. pushing your entire body forward and ruining any sort of balance in your upper body, you fell on the mattress face down.

“fuck, you feel amazing!”

“never keep this pussy away from me, you hear me?”

his rhythm was now constant, jutting his hips into yours at a desperate pace.

“i will have this pussy breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

mattheo's guttural promise echoed in your ears as his hips picked up the pace.

carnal desire was evident in the way he was pounding into you — with unrestrained force. your body instinctively arched more and more against him, wishing to never be separated from his body ever again.

the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh was the only prevalent sound, sometimes joined by moans, gasps and whines. your face was completely buried in the mattress, lips even biting at the bedsheets in an attempt to muffle some of your pornographic noises.

mattheo saw that and did not like it one bit.

“bad fucking girl!”

your entire upper body was lifted from the bed in one smooth movement, mattheo’s strong arms sneaking around your torso and neck. his right arm was gripping at your midpoint, steadying you.

his other arm, however, put your head in a nice meaty headlock.

“let me hear you, sweetheart!”

tightening his hold on you, his arm immediately flexed around your neck, pushing his hard bicep closer to your face.

“ah, mattheo.”

“yeah, baby. gonna cum?”

the new position allowed mattheo to reach even deeper, kissing your cervix with his aggressive thrusts. he was throbbing, ready to orgasm a second time that day.

“let me make you cum.” he whispered softly against your face, placing a half-peck on the shell of your ear.

and with that, he lowered his hand from your torso to your pussy, locating your pulsing nub and drawing fast circles on it.

“oh my god i'm–”

and he was too. his hips slammed faster and faster into your cunt, sloppily thrusting until the very end.

“don’t move!” he grunted aggressively in your ear.

mattheo could feel you spasming, trying to run away from him. but he had to fill you up. he had to cream your pussy for real.

“take it all, sweetheart. be a good fucktoy for me!”

and you couldn’t go against him even if you wanted to. his big arms were securely holding your body in place.

so you stilled your hips as best as you could, settling nicely into his body, allowing mattheo to paint your insides with his cum.

and make a big mess, just like he did with the fleshlight.

•••

“i am throwing away the fleshlight!”

“oh, so i did better than it?”

“you’re insane for even asking.”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay, @lov3notts

#~ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘳 #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #pervert!mattheo #roommmate!mattheo #gymrat!mattheo #slytherin smut #slytherin boys smut #smut #x reader #sub!mattheo

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kenmaspuddinghair · 5 months ago

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Honorably discharged disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

#simon x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #medic!reader

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literary-dolly · 4 months ago

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communication is key - pt.2

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k (yikes) warnings: implied sexual content, a little bit of angst, jason panics a tad

Clearly Jason didn't learn from leaving his comm behind in your apartment - not when he leaves you behind in the Cave.

Part I

“We really don’t have to go and see it, you know? Like it’s really not that cool, it’s actually just a cave.”

Jason’s words do nothing to deter you as you tug insistently at his hand in yours, digging your heels into the floorboards in a feeble attempt to drag him to… well, you’re not sure. Admittedly, it’s your first time in Wayne Manor, but you can’t imagine the entrance to the Batcave is in his childhood bedroom. Naturally, Jason doesn’t move an inch, just staring down at you with a playfully irked look and a sadistic twinkle in his eye.

“Jay, come on, you told me we can only stay here until 10,” you plead, eliciting nothing more than a quirk of his brow, “It’s 9 now! I want to have a proper look.”

You had been desperate to see the Manor, and it had taken months of begging on your hands and knees to get him to finally take you. Unsurprisingly, he was still set firmly on the fact that you would not be meeting his family, especially after your shenanigans on the comms, and that had served as his excuse for the 3 months since. You were nothing if not determined, however – it was part of what he loved so much about you in the first place.

You’d set it up perfectly. There wasn’t a length you hadn’t gone to in an attempt to get exactly what you wanted. Jason’s favourite meal cooked and ready on the table as soon as he got home from Dick’s after going over a case, a new special edition copy of Wuthering Heights stashed on the bookshelf, you’d worn the sweatpants and vest combination that you knew drove him crazy without coming across as trying too hard.

He'd not even made it through the front door before he said it, barely even batting an eye.

“Nice try, but I’m not taking you to the Manor.”

Your jaw had flung open. It was almost offensive, just how quickly he could see through your efforts.

It hadn’t been enough to phase you, however, and you were prepared to go to the extreme. Every advance he’d tried to make that evening, whether it be a delicate kiss behind your ear or a hand pawing at your hip, you’d ignored pointedly. It was modern torture, as he would skim a hand up and down your thigh on the couch and you could do nothing but stay statuesque, staring forward at the TV without any indication that you had even noticed. Fuck the stupid sweatpants and vest combination.

He'd been smug at the start, the corner of his lip twitching as he’d felt your entire body tense, desperate to not give in to his ministrations. Jason wasn’t famed for his patience however, and it wasn’t long until he was huffing and puffing and practically whining for you to pay attention to him. He’d finally given in when he’d grabbed a handful of your ass and you’d done nothing other than stare at him; he’d scrunched his face together and slammed it down against your shoulder in defeat.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take you to see the fuckin’ manor.”

It hadn’t taken long for things to get, ah, heated after that. Yes, technically, it was blackmail – but you couldn’t spend so much time around the notorious Red Hood and not pick up a few quirks here and there.

The Manor was more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined from the photos, with its sprawling hallways, crafted arches and crooning gargoyles. It was plain to see that it was cared for meticulously, every room garnished with lavish decorations – but that it was also lived in, from the odd sock sticking out of someone’s bedroom door to the worn oak flooring from years of people’s feet trapsing back and forth. It’s almost difficult to imagine Jason spending such a significant part of his upbringing here, that the maze of twists and turns could ever be committed to memory.

He'd postponed as much as he could, claiming he was waiting for the perfect time, and finally it had arrived. Bruce was away on business, having taken Alfred to accompany him, and the rest were out of the house until patrol this evening – Dick was working, Steph and Cass had gone to the cinema, Tim and Duke were occupied with God knows what at Tim’s apartment, and Damian was with Jon. The Manor was completely empty when you’d arrived, just as Jason had anticipated.

Which is how you end up where you are now, dropping to your knees with hands clasped together, begging Jason to take you to the Batcave as he tries his best to remain stoic. In a flash, he crouches to hoist you upwards, prompting you to let out a scream as he jostles you over his shoulder, relenting, and grumbles softly as he marches towards an old Grandfather clock.

“I just don’t get it,” he sighs, fiddling with the face of the clock until you can hear a soft click, and feel a rush of frigid air that makes your hair stand on end. He sets you down steadily, offering his hand out once again for you to take.

“You don’t get it because it’s normal to you,” you huff, making a start towards the cavernous stairway, “Most people don’t have a giant, military grade bunker underneath their childhood home.”

Jason continues to protest as you make your way down, but you’re too awestruck to even acknowledge whatever his complaint may be. It’s positively sublime, with its craggy ceiling that stretches out into the blackness further than your eyes can make out. The various cars, bikes and even the Batmobile lay dormant in a circle in the corner, only exacerbating the giddy feeling growing in your stomach.

You almost slip over when you see the dinosaur.

Jason seems to tense behind you, “Be careful, it won’t recognise you, so you have to move really slowly. Its eyesight is pretty bad.”

You can feel the blood drain out of every limb as you turn to face Jason in absolute horror. It’s frantic, as your hands grapple to cling onto his jacket, feeling as though your brain has just been tossed into a blender. It seems like a major oversight, failing to mention the live dinosaur that guarded –

You can hear a low, breathy chuckle from above you.

“You’re a dick!” You practically scream, slamming your hands against his chest in an act of defiance. He doesn’t falter, obviously, and instead just allows his laughs to ring out louder as they echo around the cave.

“Aww baby,” he coos, and there’s a shit-eating grin lining his lips, “I didn’t think you were so gullible.”

You offer him little more than a deadpan look, “Of everything I’ve learnt since we’ve been together, a live dinosaur is not out of the realm of possibility.”

With a hefty sigh, Jason commences his tour, showing you round every nook and cranny of the place. It’s fascinating, the technology lying dormant underground that you’re fairly certain could change the world given the opportunity. It seems such a leap from your own life, almost incomprehensible, especially as Jason lists off different features of the Cave with a dry tone and the heavy implication that it doesn’t impress him much. You’re reminded once again of how far-removed Jason’s life is from your own when he leaves the bubble of your apartment, the altered world he occupies on a day-to-day basis.

You noticed that he skirts away from the corner where various suits stand displayed up against the walls; you know better than to question why.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of the computer, stretching his arms out and beckoning you in with an impatient huff. You oblige, happily, and Jason tucks his head atop yours. The two of you remain there for a few moments, basking in the silence and bliss of each other’s company. Despite being in such an alien environment, the thrumming of his heartbeat is enough to remind you that home carves out a place in the shape of Jason Todd, wherever you may be.

“We’ve still got half an hour to kill,” Jay hums, and you can hear the mischief creeping into his tone, “Want to watch videos of everyone failing dramatically on the Batcomputer?”

“I can’t believe it’s called the fucking Batcomputer.”

“So fucking stupid.”

Jason releases you to begin fiddling with the controls as you glance around awkwardly, still struggling to fully comprehend the surroundings.

As he cues the video up, starting with a thumbnail of Tim, well, screaming as he seems to be falling from the top of a building, Jason turns to look at you with a sharkish smirk, “I’m gonna go get us some snacks. Don’t touch anything.”

He disappears quickly up the steps, taking them two at a time, and you realise as soon as he’s gone that its easier said than done. You take the opportunity to leer over the giant keyboard, inspecting all of the various buttons and their vague, nonsensical organising system.

It’s all very serene until the bats start to shriek behind you.

It sends you lurching forward in a panic, arms stuck out in front of you out of instinct, a pathetic attempt to try and cushion your fall. The screech of metal on metal is almost instant as you make contact with various buttons, and you can see the metal shields beginning to lock down on the side of the cave that backs into the Manor. It’s fight or flight that kicks in, as you attempt to sprint your way up the stairs before the metal gate can crash down over the doorway. It’s futile really, there would be no point in a security system that gave the perpetrator plenty of time to get in or out.

Your phone begins to ring as soon as the juddering of metal silences.

“Baby – and I mean this with all the love in the world – what the fuck did you press?” Jason’s voice is stern and swift, and it’s enough to make your own catch in your throat a little. It’s clearly concern that marks his words, but it does little to lessen their severity.

“Jay, I don’t… I don’t know…” You huff out, frustrated, “The bats… they scared me and then… Am I gonna be trapped in here?” Your voice begins to wobble, and you can practically feel Jason softening through the screen.

“No, baby, it’s – fine. But Bruce is the only one with clearance to take the Cave out of lockdown. Shit. I’m gonna have to –”

“What the fuck was that?” A voice rings out behind you, causing you to jump embarrassingly high.

Jason’s fury is instantaneous, “No, no, there’s no fucking way. Absolutely not. Are you fucking kidding me?”

It’s only when you spin on your heel that you see them, pooling in from the other entrance to the Cave.

It’s every single one of Jason’s siblings, likely filing in for the nightly patrol.

Dick’s face is the only one that lights up in visible recognition, the others staring at you either like you’ve come from another planet, or that they’re ready to jump you for being some rogue civilian intruding on their lair.

Naturally, Dick is the one to approach you first, calling out your name in confusion, “What are you doing here? Where’s Jason?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“That’s her!”

“Wow, Jason’s punching, seriously.”

“I’m not incorrect in believing that is the name of Todd’s partner?”

“All of you,” Jason’s voice isn’t even on speaker, but it bellows through the phone loud and clear enough to silence everyone, “I am warning you. Fuck off. Leave her alone.”

Dick pays no mind to Jason’s words as he wraps you in a welcoming hug, almost lifting you off the ground with the sheer force of it. You can vaguely hear the incessant shouting echoing out from your phone, clutched in a hand that remains pinned at your sides, and it’s enough to spark laughter in the other Bats that seem to have planted themselves in the general vicinity.

“Is it alright if I speak to him?” Dick questions kindly, “I might be able to help with whatever has happened to get us all trapped in here.”

You hesitate slightly, not sure who you’d be betraying more if you handed your phone over: Dick by exposing him to the wrath of your boyfriend, or Jason by forcing him to talk to his brother. Eventually, you sigh, planting your phone in Dick’s open hand with a wince, mentally preparing yourself for the tirade that is sure to follow.

“Hellooo? Little Wing?”

Unintelligible shouting bleeds out of the phone, Dick lifting it away from his ear ever so slightly with a shudder.

“No, I didn’t steal it from her. She gave it to me.”

More shouting.

“Jay, can you just tell me what happened?”

That quietens Jason a little, and you can envision his icy, biting words.

“Shit. We’re gonna have to call Bruce.”

“I KNOW, DICKHEAD!” – you can hear that one. More rumbling follows.

“Okay, okay, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Dick pulls the phone down in front of him, pausing slightly to give the rest of the brood a sympathetic smile before he presses the button.

“I swear to God if any of you go anywhere near her. Don’t even talk to her. If I find out you looked at her – I promise you, you will not be able to run quick enough to get away.”

It’s Steph that marches forward with a huff, attempting to snatch the phone out of Dick’s hand, “Stop being such a bitch, Jason. You’re not going to kill us because we talked to your girlfriend.”

“We should have been allowed to interrogate her long ago, Todd, for security purposes, of course.” It’s Damian that pipes up next, seeming to appear out of the shadows to grasp at the phone Dick seems to be struggling to hold onto.

Within seconds, it turns into all out warfare. Every single one of them, bar Duke and Cass who stand off to the side offering you very understanding smiles, is wrapped in a tangle of flailing limbs – and you can still hear Jason yelling out from the phone itself, taking the time to threaten each of his siblings personally. It’s absolute unbridled chaos; you can barely make out who is where in the blur of colours scrapping around in a heap. It derails so quickly when you spot a hand that you suspect belongs to Damian sticking up proudly from amongst the rabble, phone clawed between his fingers. Tim sends a well-placed punch to the crook of his arm.

The phone falls. It shatters.

Before even a second can pass, you hear the ear-splitting clang from the top of the stairs, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Jason tore through the metal with his bare hands with the force of the impact. Seconds later, phones begin to ring in quick succession: first Dick, then Cass, then Tim… none of them answer. Dick is the only one to even glance down at his screen, typing out a quick text before shoving it back in his pocket.

You take the moment to stare longingly towards the doorway at the top of the stairs. In spite of the egregiousness of the situation, you can feel the worry for your boyfriend threatening to overflow in your throat. You know deep down he doesn’t believe that his siblings would ever do anything to harm you (even if it is out of fear for their own lives), but you know him, you know he must be terrified right now. And with your phone now a destroyed mess on the ground, there’s little you can do to soothe it. It makes your ribs feel as though they are collapsing in on your heart.

When you turn back to face the rest of the Bats, the grins that mark their faces are downright evil.

“So, what do you guys like, do together?” Steph pipes up from her place in the semi-circle, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

It’s, quite frankly, a strange set up; you sit in the chair at the Batcomputer as the rag-tag group of vigilantes are scattered across the floor around you, legs crossed and slumped over enraptured by your every word. It had been at least an hour since your interrogation had started by all other than Dick, who had stepped to the side initially to call in a few favours for the Gotham patrol while everyone was incapacitated. It had started with all the basic questions about you: where you’re from, what you do for work, your parents’ names, your blood type, your weapon of choice. You steel yourself, knowing that the prying into your relationship was now only just commencing.

“Uhm… what do you mean what do we do together?”

“Spar?”

“Firing range?”

“No, it’s probably intel collection, right?”

You have to hide behind your hands to stifle a giggle, “No, we don’t really do any of those things. We, well, we have dinner together most nights. We watch films together. We both get on with our work at the dining table, sometimes. Occasionally, when Jason has the night off, we’ll go out on a date –”

You’re cut off by the roaring laughter that seems to overcome every single person sat in front of you, even Dick fighting a small smile.

“That’s all so like, normal,” Tim steadies himself with a hand on the ground, “I didn’t think he was capable of normal.”

The questions flow thick and fast after that, a torrent of voices calling out constantly like a gaggle of school children.

“What’s his favourite meal?”

“Lasagna.”

“Where does he keep his suit?”

“Lock box. Under the bed.”

“What colour is his toothbrush?”

“Red, obviously.”

“What’s the address of your apartment?”

You falter slightly at that one, pausing to throw everyone a sheepish grin. It strikes you all at once, the honesty of their questions – how little they really know about their brother outside of his vigilantism. Dick is the only one who seems to nod in recognition, the only one who’s known Jason long enough to have had a glimpse between the crack in his armour.

“You guys don’t know where he lives? Aren’t you all detectives?” You question, not meaning to come across rude, just genuinely surprised.

A few of them bite out a laugh at that, a few of them glower at you, but it’s Dick that speaks for the group earnestly, “Jason has put a lot of effort in to ensure he can only be found when he wants to be. Trust me, it’s not through lack of trying.”

The silence lingers briefly, hanging heavy in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“What do you do…” There’s a hesitation in Tim’s voice as it creeps out with all the wariness of someone reaching out to pet a rabid dog, “…when he gets, you know, angry? Aggressive?”

That throws you for a loop, and it takes you more than a few seconds to recollect yourself. It’s not that you didn’t know what Jason was capable of, you were under no illusion that the blood he came home stained with was the result of more than superficial spats. You know that he’s a deadly force to be reckoned with, that most consider him to be a hurricane striking through the land, as destructive as he is untameable. It wasn’t a part of him you would ever try to deny, not at the cost of removing such a big chunk of what made him the man that you love.

But, thus far, he had spared you from seeing it with your own eyes.

Sure, you had arguments, like every couple did. Angry words thrown back and forth to be regretted later on when you ultimately both skulked into bed together, tired of the hostility. On the few and far in-between occasions that it had gotten overly antagonistic, Jason would remove himself. Often without a word, he would pick himself up from wherever he was perched and walk out the front door. The first time he’d done it, you’d panicked, fearing that he was leaving you, but you’d soon realised that it was more akin to a self-sacrificing act of chivalry – the need to spare you from his wrath at his own expense.

“He doesn’t,” you start slowly, well aware of the eager eyes boring into every part of you, “He’s… that’s not who he is. Not to me.”

“And you accept the burden that accompanies a man like Todd?” There’s a snideness in Damian’s words that even in the past hour or so you’d come to realise were just a part of his nature, but it doesn’t stop the flash of red that clouds your vision.

“He’s not a burden,” you bite, relishing somewhat in the way they all seem to recoil in surprise, “Nothing about him is a burden. He’s the sum of many parts, and, yes, many of those parts are complicated, but that doesn’t make him a liability.”

The guilt settles in your stomach straight away, as you scan round at their dejected faces: yes, they could be cruel in their admonishments of Jason, his methods and who he is, but it strikes you like an arrow when you realise that they are a family. His family. They just want him to be a part of it.

They snap their heads up as you continue, clearly not expecting the words that follow, “He’s not perfect. But he’s healing – and it’s not an easy process. He’s hurt, and he’s scared but I know that he cares for you. It will take time, but he will come home if he believes that you will have him.”

It shocks you when Dick yanks you up out of the chair into an embrace, much more tender than the one he’d given you earlier. You could be wrong, but you’re fairly certain you can feel a wetness where his eyes meet your shoulder. He whispers in your ear, just low enough that only you can hear it, “Thank you. They needed to hear that. I think we’ve all needed to hear it for a while.”

When he pulls away, you turn around to stare at them all, shoulders hunched low as though they’re about to melt into superhero-shaped puddles on the floor. It breaks you to see them so miserable. Even though you’ve only known them for a few hours, they seem to have weaselled their way into the Jason shaped hole in your heart. You clasp your hands together, startling them from their various trances, and do your utmost to plaster an optimistic smile across your face.

“Right, well, Jason promised me some seriously epic fails, and I plan on cashing in on that if anyone wants to join me?”

It’s another hour until the telltale scraping of the metal barriers ascending into the ceiling echoes out across the Cave, causing everyone’s raucous giggles at CCTV footage of Bruce slipping in a puddle to soften to a murmur.

The thundering of Jason’s feet clambering down the stairs sends a jolt through your entire body, and you’re up on your feet by the time he crashes into you at breakneck speed. The feeling of his arms engulfing you is sickeningly familiar, even as you try to recover from having the wind knocked out of you. It’s hard not to get choked up as he whispers sweet nothings to you in his frantic low timbre, begging to know if you’re okay. You can only seem to respond by nodding or shaking your head into the crook of his neck. You’re not sure who the embrace is to comfort more – him or you.

You can feel the shadow that creeps up over both of you, and you’re startled but unsurprised when you lift your eyes up from Jason to meet those of Bruce Wayne, clad in a pristine business suit, staring down back at you. He doesn’t say anything, only offering an appreciative nod and a small smile. Unsure what to do, you nod back – both of you seeming to realise that an introduction between the two of you tonight would be far too much for Jason to handle. You focus your attention back to your boyfriend, who has turned to face his siblings with a blazing expression.

“I told you all. I warned you to stay away from her and you break her phone and –”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“It was an accident, Jay.”

“Maybe if your fat ass hadn’t gone to get snacks –”

Jason begins to lurch forward at that one, “I am going to hurt you so bad that you –”

You stop him with a delicate hand on his chest, prompting his face to snap down towards your own, “Jay, it’s okay. They asked me some questions. We watched some videos. They were lovely.”

“They didn’t make you uncomfortable? If they forced you to say anything, baby, I swear to God,” there’s a strain in his voice, and you can tell the evening has taken a toll on him. The way his fingers are twitching at his side, his lip rolling between his teeth; it feels as though you’re being hollowed, to see just how anxious the whole experience has left him.

“Sweetheart,” it’s barely audible, a promise shared just between the two of you, “It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Out of your peripheral, you can see the rest of the Bats beaming with pride at your defence of their actions as Bruce does the round to check on them. They’re clearly uninterested in whatever it is the man has to say to them, instead focussing in on the exchange between you and Jason. They look grateful, you think, and you find yourself hoping that it’s not too long before you get to see them again.

A British voice calls out from beside you, and you find yourself face to face with who could only be the infamous Alfred Pennyworth, pressing a soothing hand onto Jason’s shoulder. “Nobody would think it amiss if you went home for this evening, Master Jason, it seems that some home comfort would do you good in your current state.”

It seems to ease Jason a tad, as he rolls some of the tension out of his neck and shoulders. His gaze seems to linger on Bruce for a second too long, and Alfred picks up on it as you do.

“He knows you are thankful, but I shall pass it onto him, nonetheless. Go home, my boy.”

Wordlessly, you slip your hand into Jason’s and begin to guide him up the stairs. You pause at the top to offer a small wave to the rest of the family loitering below, and they all (even Damian) seem to return it fervently. Vaguely, you can make out Jason muttering some kind of profanity under his breath, but he makes no effort to make it particularly discernible.

By the time you make it to Jason’s old beamer parked out front, he seems to have settled a little, the weight that the Manor seems to place on his shoulders no longer leaving him buckled underneath it. You slip into the car without a sound, but he’s on you as soon as the slam of the door shutting rings out.

“Promise me,” it’s deadly serious as he says it, “Promise me they didn’t do anything.”

“I promise, Jay,” you stretch out a hand to cradle his jaw, relishing as he leans into the touch, “I actually had quite a nice time.”

His eyebrow quirks at that, and he scoffs, turning the key in the ignition, “I find that hard to believe.”

You move to rest your hand at the nape of his neck, curling your fingers into the short strands, “We can talk about it tomorrow, let’s just get home, yeah?”

He mumbles some kind of agreement before bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles as the car starts to move, “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you too, Jay,” you sigh, content, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you lean back into the headrest, “Absolutely starving though. Waiter went to get snacks and didn’t come back for hours – the customer service was terrible.”

“Is that right, is it?” You can feel the tension beginning to bleed out of him, his voice regaining some of its playful charm you adore so, “I heard the waiter was a little preoccupied.”

“Oh, that’s true,” you pause with a grin, before adding, “I heard he fell down a manhole.”

The groan Jason lets out sounds almost painful, and he brings a hand up to pinch his brow, “Seriously? Of every video, they showed you that one.”

“First time I’ve seen you in action, I must say it was very impressive.”

“Are you going to keep chatting shit or put in the address for Bat Burger?” To most it would sound vicious, but you can hear the affection underpinning his words.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you think they have an option to avoid parked cars? You seem to enjoy crashing into them quite a lot.”

“This is why I never wanted you to fuckin’ meet them.”

The holy trinity of Jason Todd behaviour: crack a joke, have a panic attack, eat a burger

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you #fluff #batfamily #batfam #dc robin #robin #jason todd fic #red hood fic #dc fanfic #dcu #dc comics

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mirai-lunar · 4 months ago

Text

Objective: Survive.

★ A simple guide on how to survive the Invincible Variants. The stars range from one to five. One being the easiest to five being the most difficult. Fem! Reader.

Includes: Sinister Mark, Omni Mark, Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Goggles Mark, Veil Mark (Shiesty Mark), Masked Mark, Viltrum Mark

Warnings: Dark Content, Violence, Suggestive Themes, Yandere Behavior

Word Count: ~2.5k

Sinister Mark

★★★★★

-You’re fucked.

-If all the variants had a difficulty level, his would be extreme.

-One second he’s playing with your feelings. The next second he’s harshly biting into your neck.

-Your relationship in the beginning is going to be rough, if you can even call it a relationship.

-Reciprocating in any way is how you will survive.

-Bite him back. Claw at his face. Or just endure. None of these options do much, but it does amuse him.

-One day, he returns to you, his mouth covered in blood. You mentally prepare for him to put you through hell again, but this time he just leans in close before resting his head in the crook of your neck.

-Your body stiffens, but you don’t drop your guard just yet.

- When he asks you what’s wrong, you frown before responding.

- “It’s nothing. I just expected… the usual.”

-He’d hum, his lips pressing against your skin. As he kissed your neck amorously, he’d speak swiftly.

- “You’d better get used to me. I’m not letting you leave.”

-Not a good thing to hear.

-But after that day, he’s… a bit softer with you.

-Instead of speaking down to you, he now speaks to you. He asks some simple questions and my God, you had better respond.

-He’s possessive to the extreme. If someone just as much looks at you, then their head is coming clean off. You belong to him, and only him.

-Freedom? What freedom? You have no freedom.

-Want to really knock him off guard? Be nice to him. Yes, this will be near impossible to do, but it will leave him trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.

-You can survive him, just barely if you can endure. If not then…

Omni Mark

★★✩✩✩

-You’ll be fine.

-When compared to other variants, he’s a safe option.

-He’s calm. And that eases a lot of your worries.

-Just tell him that you trust him. Simple, right?

-Whenever he returns from his… outings, and you ask him how his day was, he’d smile and respond with a simple:

- “Uneventful.”

-The blood on his outfit says otherwise.

-He could listen to you talk for hours. About the most mundane things too.

-Any issues you have, he will attempt to solve them. Sounds good, right?

-Well…

-If you mention a person you dislike, then he will kill them. So be careful who you mention.

-Freedom? Yes, you have freedom. He trusts you.

-Don’t break that trust though. If you attempt to run away, he will find you. Expect a frown and some words from him once he does.

- “I expected more from you, Y/n.”

- Huge ‘I’m not mad at you, just disappointed’ energy.

-Most of the time he just hovers around in the sky as you run your errands. Unless you want him to accompany you.

-Catches you off guard. A lot.

- “Hey.”

-You gasp when you hear his voice, your phone almost slipping from your hands. You turn around to face him.

-“Mark?” You said, your eyes wide with surprise. “You scared me. How long have you been floating there?”

- “A while,” he admitted. There was a bit of amusement in his voice. “...Reading fanfiction again?”

-The shock on your face says it all.

-Will consider your feelings if something he does bothers you, but will also remind you that he is far from good.

-You survive because he pretty much takes care of you. Not too much to do on your part.

Mohawk Mark

★★★★✩

-In for a dangerous ride with this one.

-He’s an emperor in his world, and he gets what he wants. If he likes you he’s just going to take you. Plain and simple.

-This is another variant that thinks he owns you.

-Sure he’ll treat you well for the most part, but this heavily depends on how you act.

-Most of the time he doesn’t mind your frowns when you’re upset, or your occasional sassy remarks. He thinks it's adorable.

-But if your frowns turn into looks of pure hatred, and your sass is followed up with constant anger…if you become completely unbearable to him…he will kill you.

-(Main reason he’s at 4 stars)

-If none of this applies to you, then there’s no problem. He likes you a lot.

-He’s also horny a lot. Every night you don’t sleep with this gremlin he’s complaining about it. Good luck.

-Freedom? Sure, you have freedom. You found a simple loophole. He leaves often, so just leave right after he leaves.

-And be back before he gets back.

-If you’re not back when he calls for you then…

- “Where the fuck is she?!”

-Once he finds you… Privileges. Are. Gone. It only takes one screw up.

- “I wasn’t trying to run away,” you explained. “I was making my way back when you found me.”

- “Sure you were. You can’t fucking fool me, Y/n.”

-Whether what you were saying is true or not doesn’t matter to him.

- When he calls you by your actual name, and not some nickname, then you know he is not happy.

-But if you apologize (and mean it) he’ll give you a few freedoms back. Definitely not all though. You’ll be at his side a lot more often now.

-Just make sure he doesn’t find you if you plan on running away.

-Will you survive? Well, it depends on how you act. Just stroke that ego of his and you’ll be fine.

No Goggles Mark

★★★✩✩

-In for a wild ride with this one.

-This variant’s personality is chaotic, but lucky for you, he isn’t out to ruin your life. He just likes to have fun.

-If you can’t match his energy, let him know asap. This will save you a lot of emotional distress.

- “I’m not Invincible like you, Mark,” you calmly told him. “Could you be a bit… well a lot more careful with me?”

- “Okay! :)”

-He does care. So just talk to him whenever you’re scared. He will stop whatever he’s doing to respond.

-Heck, he could be in the middle of destroying half a block of buildings, and come back to you for a split second to ask you how you’re doing. It’d be kinda sweet, if he wasn’t so destructive.

-He’s a thrill seeker! So if your ideas are fun and/or challenging, then he’s on board.

- “How fast can you fly to space and back?” You ask him.

- “Just watch!”

- Boom! Anddd he’s gone.

-Freedom? Yes! You can do things! But you’re both doing those things together.

-You’ll almost always be around him, unless the situation is too dangerous for him to take you.

-The best way to survive is to reciprocate his love for you. Tell him you love him too. Hug him. Rub his hair.

-You could use his love for you to your advantage…

-For example, if you want to get away from him, just convince him to leave you somewhere you deem safe, and assure him you’ll be there when he gets back.

-The second he leaves you race off.

-High risk though. If he finds you, you had better come up with a good excuse. If the excuse is good, then you’re fine. If not then…

-”You’re not trying to get away from me, are you Y/n?”

-That other side of him is terrifying.

-If your personality is chaotic like his, you two will get along just fine.

-”I always hated that place,” you grumbled, looking at the building you once worked at. He lit up.

“Want me to destroy it?” He asked you. You also lit up.

“Sure!”

-If you’re level-headed, you two would make for an interesting dynamic.

- “Let’s not jump off this building today Mark. I just finished eating,” you calmly told him.

- “Aww, well can we at least jump off a smaller building?” he asked. You sighed.

- “Well alright. As long as you hold on to me.”

-Your days will always be filled with chaos, but you’ll survive.

Goggles Mark

★★★★✩

-Uh oh.

-This variant is manipulative and sadistic. You’re gonna have a bad time.

- He won’t kill you, but he won’t hesitate to kill the people you love.

-You could go on a long rant about how much of a monster he is and he’d just sigh.

- “Well that was pointless Y/n,” he’d tell you. “You should consider thinking a bit more before responding so harshly to me.”

-He says this and he was the one that kidnapped you??

-The best thing to do in this situation is to try and get the fuck away.

-The next best thing is to remain calm, and try to reason with him.

-If you’re nice, then he’ll listen to what you have to say. That doesn’t mean he’s going to do what you say though, he’ll just listen.

- You could trade affection for things you want. He actually likes this idea if you mention it.

-Freedom? Haha… No.

-You’re stuck with him.

-If you somehow manage to get away from him, he’d actually be impressed.

- “How long have you been planning that escape, Hm? A few days? Weeks?” He’d ask you.

-You’d remain quiet, refusing to reveal anything just in case you need to try it again.

-After that though, the situation gets worse. You’ll have to literally beg him to let you do things. And if you get overwhelmed and burst into tears he’ll think you’re cute.

-Will you survive? Yes. Will you have horrible trauma? Absolutely.

Veil Invincible (Shiesty Mark)

★★✩✩✩

-You’d be fine with him.

-He’s arrogant, but not towards you. He’s the type that would get along with any personality.

-If you're sassy? He thinks you’re funny.

-Shy? He’ll do the talking.

-Confident? He’ll feed off your energy.

-Just don’t be a killjoy though! He’s not a fan of people who spoil the fun.

-Freedom? Yes, you have freedom! Don’t go too far though. And yell if you need him!

-If you actually do end up yelling for help, he’ll be by your side in less than a second. You’ll have to stand behind him as he beats whomever was threatening you into a bloody mess.

-If you try running away, he’ll also be by you in a second, lifting you off the ground in a playful, yet warning manner.

- “Anddd where do you think you’re going?” He'll ask you. You sheepishly rub the back of your head.

- “Nowhere.”

-He thinks you're the cutest thing ever.

-Want to throw him off guard? Lift that veil of his ever so slightly and kiss him on his jaw. He loves it.

-If you’re kind then that’s a plus. Heck, you can even be mean to him sometimes. It isn’t too much of a problem. Just don’t make it a habit.

-“There’s only so much a person can take for fuck’s sake.”

-He wouldn’t hurt you. But he would revoke flight privileges. So if you’re mean often, you’ll have to walk often.

- “My feet are killing me,” you grumbled, trudging on the ground. He’d respond from the sky above, laughing a little.

- “Just apologize and I’ll fly you the rest of the way!”

-You’ll survive. He can’t stay mad at you.

Masked Mark

★✩✩✩✩

-You’re safe with him.

-He cares about you a lot.

-If he’s ever worried about something, just hold his hands and tell him that everything is going to be alright. That always puts him at ease.

- You are his everything. He loves you so much. You could be glaring daggers at him and he still thinks you're precious.

-Freedom? Well, yes and no.

-As long as it’s safe, then yes, you can go do some things. But he’s going with you. If it’s not safe? Then no, he’ll go for you instead.

-And please, stay put while he’s gone.

-If you don’t, then he will panic.

- “Y/n, I’ll take you where you want to go. You don’t have to run off,” he murmured. You frowned before responding.

- “What if I don’t want to go with you?”

- “You have to. It’s too dangerous.”

-He’s fine with you being mad at him, he kind of expects it.

-But if you actually like him, then the two of you would be inseparable. He’ll rest his head on your lap as you speak to him.

- “You worry too much Mark. We’re here together, that’s all that matters.”

- “...Yeah. Thanks Y/n.”

-He always treats you well, and will help you with any problems you face. Just ask, and he’ll be there.

-You often forget that he’s dangerous because he’s so kind to you. He's a completely different person when you're not around.

-You’ll survive, regardless of how you act. He won’t let you die while he’s breathing.

Viltrum Mark

★★★★✩

-Oh, you’ll survive.

-Ironically, he’s probably the safest option.

-Mainly because he wouldn’t let anyone near you, let alone touch you.

-But you trade your freedom for safety.

- “All you have to do is listen and obey. Do I make myself clear?” He told you.

-That cold look of his left you uneasy.

-While he’s very direct, he does care for you. You’re left unaware of this little fact though.

-Freedom? Heavily depends on how you act. If you do what he says then he’ll let you do a few things. If not, then no.

-You can be a bother to him, but if anyone else calls you that…

-“If you speak of her in that way again, I’ll rip off your head.”

-He doesn’t care who it is. Hell, it could be another viltrumite. Disrespecting you means disrespecting him. And he never tolerates disrespect. Sometimes, he doesn’t even bother to speak, he just immediately goes in for the kill.

-To survive in the beginning, it’s best to just do what he says. After sometime maybe you could be a bit more rebellious.

-You can also melt that icy exterior of his if you’re sweet. When you two are sitting alone, just rest your head against his arm. Or cuddle up to him. His body will stiffen at the warm affection.

- “Thanks for sticking up for me,” you murmured. He remained quiet for a bit before responding.

- “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so bothersome.”

- “I know. Thanks a lot though.”

- “....”

-Overtime, he expresses his love for you. It may take a while though, depending on how you act.

-You’ll survive, no problem. He’ll make sure of it.

*Says I'm not writing about so many variants anymore.

*Proceeds to write about 8 of them. Smh.

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yazmarina · 11 months ago

Text

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f2 x reader #f2 fanfic #f2 smut #fc43 #franco colapinto x reader

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downbad4sylus · 7 months ago

Text

“I killed you”

synopsis: After spending the day with Sylus, the energy linkage binding you appears just when you were about to leave for the night, so you stay and fall asleep in Sylus’s bed only to have your past life finally catch up to you.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; pre-relationship; angst but happy ending; sort of cliff-hanger; vaguely proofread

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: been lurking in the LADS tag for ages now and finally got around to making an account so this is my first ever fic!!! i have a part 2 in the works if people want to see where the story goes after it ends but either way, hope you guys like it :)

You and Sylus had been spending quite a bit of time together lately. Ever since returning from the grasslands, you both stayed true to your promise to be more upfront and honest about what you wanted. And you both wanted to be near each other.

Whether it was Sylus helping with one of your missions or you accompanying him to his many auctions. Or something much simpler, like him dropping by your apartment in Linkon when he “happened to be in the area” or you visiting the Onychinus base in the N109 Zone because you also “happened to be in the area.” Either way, you’d been at the other’s side more often than not these days, which had a certain energy linkage making a reoccurring appearance as well.

The linkage appeared nearly every time you were with Sylus now, particularly when one of you was about to depart, the linkage stopping you from separating. You and Sylus had adopted a common practice of holding hands when linked, under the pretense it was just “easier” that way, not at all that either of you actually wanted to hold the other’s hand. No, nothing as silly as that.

Tonight had been no different.

You’d gone over to the base in the morning on a rare day off, expecting to find Sylus asleep but was pleasantly surprised when he was the one to answer the door.

“Morning sweetie,” he’d greeted with his signature smirk.

“Sylus? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you’d asked, cocking your head as you stared up at him.

“I have some business to deal with during the day today,” he’d explained, ushering you into the base with a warm hand on the small of your back. “And lucky me, a certain kitten has come to accompany me.”

That was how you got roped into spending the day hopping from deal to deal with Sylus, clad in a dress he already had prepared for you to match his suit. But you didn’t mind, not one bit, you appreciated any time you got to spend with Sylus.

Ever the gentleman, Sylus took you to an expensive dinner once the deals were complete, ordering anything you so much as glanced at off the menu. He loved to spoil you, loved the little crease between your brows even more when you insisted he was going overboard. But as he always did, he told you he had more money than he knew what to do with, money he wanted to shower you in, and you were just going to have to get used to it.

By the time you returned to the base—and taken the shower Sylus wisely suggested—it was late, and you were exhausted. Sylus offered to drive you home himself, saying he’d have Luke and Kieran drop off your bike tomorrow, but you insisted the roads would be clear this time of night so it would be a quick ride back to Linkon. You didn’t really want to go though, and you would’ve stayed had you not had work in the morning.

Of course, a cheeky energy linkage had other plans.

Sylus leaned against the doorway, watching you as you turned away from him to head for your bike, only for your arm to jerk back suddenly.

He caught you before you could fall, your back flush with his broad chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist. Without a word, he lifted his other hand to which your own hand followed, the gold linkage shimmering in the moonlight.

“Guess you’re calling out of work,” he chuckled.

This shouldn’t have surprised you, not with the current track record, and honestly, you weren’t mad at all. Not when you were cuddled up to Sylus’s side in his bed, your linked hands entwined in the little space between you, already drifting off to sleep after an eventful day.

…

You were dreaming…

Dreaming about false accusations. About an Abyss, sealed beneath a fiend-filled city. About gold and treasure. About a dragon.

Your dragon.

You were dreaming about Sylus, a dragon with a human form. About a life spent in exile with him, raiding and pillaging, taking from others to hoard for yourselves.

You were dreaming about falling in love with your dragon. Teaching him about human love and compassion. Only to be torn apart by a curse.

You were dreaming…

No.

You were remembering.

You didn’t know how you knew it, but deep in your soul you knew this other life with Sylus was not simply conjured by your subconscious.

And the worst memory was saved for last.

On the day you were to be executed, when your dragon swooped in and killed your accusers. When you thought you’d be able to embrace your dragon one last time, and instead drove a claymore straight through his chest.

You lived through the last time you and Sylus flew through the skies, of him using the last of his strength to bring you to the field of datura flowers you’d both only dreamed of.

You lived through clutching your beloved dragon, pleading with him not to leave you, but he’d died in your arms and disintegrated into ash.

…

You woke abruptly, chest heaving and heart beating wildly. You threw off the arm Sylus had slung over your waist in his sleep and forced him onto his back as you straddled his waist, ripping his robe open to reveal his chest. In the sliver of moonlight coming through the curtains, you saw Sylus’s bare chest, free of scales, no red pattern etched into his skin, no red gem at the center of his chest, and most importantly, no claymore.

Sylus, who had been startled awake by your sudden manhandling, stared up at you with wide eyes, watching as tears streamed down your cheeks and onto the chest your gaze was locked on.

“Sweetie,” he murmured, raising a hand to brush the hair out of your face.

Your eyes snapped to his. “I killed you,” you whispered.

His hand froze midair.

It couldn’t be.

“I killed you,” you repeated, no less quiet but far more anguished.

You remembered.

Sylus couldn’t believe it, you actually remembered.

He’d long given up hope of you recalling the past you shared with him, and, if he was being honest with himself, was glad you didn’t. He was happy with you as you were now, not much different than when he knew you then. Your time together did not end happily and the last thing he wanted was for you to go through such heartbreak again. Yet here you were, doing exactly that.

Sylus broke free of his stupor and wrapped his arms securely around you, hauling you into his lap as he sat up against the headboard. You buried your face in his neck, racked with heart-wrenching sobs.

“How could you make me do that?” you wailed, clutching his robe so hard your knuckles were white.

Sylus rubbed your back in an attempt to comfort you. “I had to,” he answered, his voice rough as he too remembered that fateful day. “I couldn’t let you die, but had we both lived, you would’ve succumbed to the curse with me. I couldn’t let that happen, you didn’t deserve that.”

“But it meant I lost you, Sylus!” you cried.

He hugged you closer to him. “I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry.”

It was all he could offer you. He couldn’t take back what he’d done, what he’d taken from you, that he’d left you alone. But his words were true, he’d rather die than you fall to the curse alongside him. You saved his life with half your soul, the least he could do was spare you from his fate.

That was what love was, wasn’t it? Sacrifice. He’d fall on the sword a hundred times over if it meant saving you, his beloved. You were everything to him, his reason for living, breathing.

Sylus sat, holding you tight while you mourned a lifetime’s worth of love and loss, until your sobs quieted and your short breaths were warm against his neck.

You traced a finger along his collarbone, dipping down into the center of his chest where the red gem once rested. “Sylus.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“If I told you I loved you, would you make me kill you again?”

His heart stopped, though he couldn’t tell if it was because you all but confessed your love for him or if it was from the thought of you having to take his life again.

Sylus recovered quickly however, not wanting to cause you any unnecessary stress. “The curse died with the dragon,” he said softly. “The only one that remains is your own, sweetie.”

You were quiet for a beat. “The one where you’re tied to me? Where only I can grant you a true death?”

“Yes, that one.”

You nodded.

Pieces were clicking into place for you. Everything Sylus had done when you first met, down the what he’d said, it was to jog your memory. He just wanted you to remember him. No wonder he’d treated you like that, he was trying to provoke the old you. It broke your heart realizing that you hadn’t remembered him, that it probably broke his.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, choking on a sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Sylus said firmly.

“I didn’t remember you,” you protested weakly.

“I know, sweetie, and it’s okay,” he assured gently.

You shook your head, your chest aching at his gentle tone. Despite not remembering him, Sylus still wanted to spend time with you, to get to know this you. He didn’t have to make an effort, but he still wanted you. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve someone like him. To have fallen in love not once but twice with a man who’d sacrifice himself in order to save you.

You lifted your head and gazed into those beautiful, gem-like eyes. “Sylus?”

His own gaze didn’t waver from yours. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Is there a field of flowers near the N109 Zone that we could visit tomorrow?” you asked.

Sylus’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but then his full lips lifted into a smile. “Not in the N109 Zone, but close enough to drive to. Can I know why you’re asking?”

A smile teased your own lips. “I’d like to bring our dream to reality, if that’s all right with you.”

Sylus reached up, finally brushing that strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “It’s more than all right with me.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the meaning no longer lost to you. “Sleep now, we can go in the morning.”

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus

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matt-is-me · 8 months ago

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Mind Trick

cw:hypnosis,arousal

You and your friend are sitting on their couch, watching TV and unwinding after a very tiring day. You've both had a ton of work to worry about, and they think the best remedy for that exhaustion is to destress on the couch for a bit, then try out the trigger they gave you the previous day.

It was a Jedi Mind Trick suggestion, one that makes you mindlessly agree with them any time they wave their hand front of your face. You thought it was a very nerdy thing to use during a hypnosis session, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious of its effects.

You wanted to chill out for a bit, but there had to be a better way to do that. The TV was very boring. It was that dumb cooking show your friend always watches. You couldn't stand it, it was like watching paint dry.

"Can you please change the channel? You know how much I hate this show" , you asked, in a tired, grumpy tone.

They waved their hand.

"But you love this show, hun, you always have!"

Your previous opinion began to fade from your head, swiped away by the hand authoritavely swaying in front of you.

That.. that was true. It had always been that way. What were you complaining about? You loved to watch cooking shows! They offered a very relaxing, and informative experience, and suddenly it became impossible to take your eyes off the screen.

You continued watching with your friend for a while, excited with your newfound knowledge of how to prepare Steak au Poivre. It wasn't until both of you spent a little time relaxing your muscles that they suggested doing something else.

"Hm, I've chilled out enough. I'm in the mood for something.. diferent. Are you horny, dear?" They looked at you as they quizzed you on your arousal.

On one hand, you were a bit aroused, and it was the perfect way to destress. But on the other, you were pretty tired, and it was much easier to sit and watch the show. You needed a push, if your friend wanted this very lazy evening to end differently.

They waved their hand.

"You're incredibly aroused"

This time, you repeated their words, doing so without resistance. "I'm incredibly aroused" , you replied, the mindless tone of your voice quickly erasing your previous opinions.

That.. that was true. It had always been like that. Your tired expression morphed from sleepy to unfathomably horny. The thoughts that occupied your mind changed, from ones of curling up on the couch to sexual fantasies of your tist. Your mind grew aroused.

You began to absent-mindedly touch yourself. Nothing major, of course, but just enough to keep yourself worked up. Your friend watched your sudden shift in personality, content with how easy it was to make you agree with them.

They waved their hand.

"Your mind is extremely fuzzy"

"My mmind... fuzzy...", you replied, not even a tiny ammount of hesitation in your voice.

That was true. Your mind could barely keep a coherent thought inside your head. You began to drool your thoughts away as you touched yourself, the only noises escaping your mouth being giggles and moans. You were too dizzy to care about not being understood.

They waved their hand.

"You are really needy. You need me to tell you what to do. What to think."

"N..needyyy....", your voice trailed off, unable to repeat anymore.

That was true. You got closer to them, still touching yourself as you looked into their eyes. Your moans turned into a chorus of needy words, your mind looping the same fantasies of being blanked by your dear pal. You were begging. You had to beg.

"Pleaseee uusee meee,, nneed uu to tell me whhat ddoo.. wahhat too thinkk.. pleasepleasepleasepleaseepleasee"

"Aww, good toy!", your tist responded, a smile forming on their face as they watched your pretty head break from the pleasure.

They waved their hand.

"You're blank."

That was true. You were blank. Your mind suddenly stopped, no longer thinking anything. You froze in place, awaiting commands. You needed to be told what to do. What to think. And your tist had some great ideas~

"I am blank.", you mindlessly replied.

And just like that, with a few waves of a hand, you were gone.

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felixbit · 7 months ago

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chestnut

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader w. 0.8k genre: comedic fluff summary: your boyfriend, hyunjin, comes home on christmas day from sbs gayo daejeon after surprising you with a new look. he's shaved his hair and gone blonde. warnings: reader mourns the long hair but is very supportive. playful teasing a/n: this is literally just how i'm coping rn

New year and comeback season always meant new looks and fresh things. However, this was not expected.

You were at home, as always. Christmas was a busy day for Hyunjin, away at SBS Gayo Daejeon performing and looking pretty for the cameras. It was routine, but you always enjoyed tuning in and seeing the talent from him and his group as they performed.

There was a red carpet to unveil looks, but you were preparing some food for dinner that night. Things were getting hectic in the kitchen and time passed you by.

But your phone started to buzz. And buzz. And buzz.

Unable to ignore the repeating notification noises, you stopped what you were doing to figure out what had your phone blowing up. Notifications from posts and texts from friends... what was happening?

Everyone was talking about Hyunjin. As normal as it was for him to get the world's attention, the sheer amount of notifications was concerning. Something was obviously going on.

So, you opened your feed. It didn't take more than a single scroll for the picture to hit your timeline. On the red carpet, looking sharp and stunning, was Hyunjin. Beautiful outfit, many piercings, eyebrow slit fresh.

Oh, and his head was completely shaved and dyed blonde.

You stared at your phone in shock for what felt like forever. The two second clip of him looking stunning for the cameras replayed over and over as your brain tried to pick up the pieces.

You knew he wouldn't have his phone on him and able to look at it for a bit, but that did not stop you from blowing up his texts. Nothing outrageous or upset, but a lot of spammed questions and confusion got the message across pretty well. It was the least you could do.

Reeling from the overwhelming knowledge of your boyfriend's look, you decided to put your phone down and get back to cooking. You had to take your mind off of it or you might go insane.

The whole time, all you could think about was him. How drastic it was, how hot he looked, the whole bit. Hwang Hyunjin was taking up your entire mind.

Any task that you tried to do seemed impossible to entirely focus on. Every moment had you wanting to grab your phone and scroll, finding every possible photo of him. Hyunjin being a world-famous idol did not make this any easier.

Giving in, you resigned to doom scrolling. If you weren't able to focus, you wouldn't get anything done. Might as well just drool over how good he looks, you thought.

When he finally got done with the show, he was able to text you back briefly. He returned your texts with spam of his own, a bunch of apologies and letting you know when he'd be back.

Waiting for him to come home seemed impossible. The performance that the group gave was phenomenal as always. However, nothing could prepare you for seeing the look in person. Time passed dreadfully slow.

As you had finished up dinner, you heard the door swing open. You turned around to see Hyunjin out of breath. He waved to you, a shy smile on his face as he hung up his coat and took off his shoes. He approached slowly, looking uncertain.

"Do you... like it?" He finally asked, his voice shaky and small.

Staring at him for a few seconds, you smiled and nodded. "Of course I do, but why didn't you tell me?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise! A Christmas gift, you know?" Hyunjin tried to explain, breathing still heavy from running, "I thought it was a really big change, and I was worried you'd say no."

You looked at him incredulously. "Why would I say no to you wanting to try something new?"

"I... don't know." Hyunjin climbed into a chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he fully caught his breath.

You watched him for a few moments, quietly observing his new look for yourself. He looked stunning, his sharp features accentuated by the new hair and the piercings grabbing your eye.

Although, you had something on your mind. "Oh, your poor hair," You lamented jokingly, "If you had warned me, I would've cherished it more if I knew it was the last time I'd see it."

"Aish, you'll see it again," Hyunjin groaned, standing up and looking at you, "Just not for a while."

"You better grow it back out," You retorted, walking over and running your fingers through his soft, short hair.

Hyunjin grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see."

"Hwang Hyunjin."

"Okay, okay, sorry."

As you plated your dinner with him, you looked over and snickered. "God, you really do look like a chestnut. Changbin was right."

"What did he call me?" Hyunjin scoffed, "I'm not a chestnut."

"Chestnut, dumpling, flour boy. You're becoming the real grocery list."

"I am not!"

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #drabbles

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greenglowinspooks · 11 months ago

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Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #dcxdp fanfic #dcxdp prompt #dcxdp crossover #clark: NEW SON??#danny: fuckfuckfuck #bruce (sensing an adoption all the way from gotham): something just happened #btw this is a prompt and I would love continuations #however if you respond with bad dad clark content I do reserve the right to send the hounds to tear you to pieces

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sanemistar · 8 months ago

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contents ★ husband!satoru x wife!reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy (i kinda have a baby fever rn), satoru gojo’s birthday special. 0.7k+ wc. ﾉ author’s message: since it’s satoru’s birthday today here’s a cute little special drabble for my beloved <33 back ★ jjk m.list

satoru hasn’t ever really paid any special attention to nor cared about his birthday, it’s been just a regular day to him. nothing special to celebrate, he’d just be a year older. that’s all that is to it.

it’s been like that, until you’d stepped into the picture and changed his life entirely. ever since he got together with you and his birthday has been a day full of surprises and precious memories that he swears to himself he’ll treasure for the rest of his life. it’s all thanks to you that satoru now has a reason to look forward to his birthday every year.

satoru is away on a quick mission, so you decide to take the chance of your husband coming back home late tonight and make his birthday cake yourself. since it’s the first time you celebrate his birthday as his wife, so you wanted to make something special this year. you’re currently in the kitchen, preparing the ingredients and the things you need to make the cake. you carefully place everything on the counter as you start working right away.

once you’re done with the cake, you place it on the table before you start hanging the decorations on the wall and setting the mood. the theme is obviously blue because it’s the color you associate him with the most. when you’re finished with that, you quickly get yourself ready and dress up as you wait for your husband to get back home. you can’t help but feel so excited to see him when he gets back because you have a special gift for him this year, you’re announcing your pregnancy. you’ve only found out about it just recently so you thought his birthday would be the perfect timing for the announcement.

not too long after you’ve gotten dressed you hear the jingling sound of satoru’s keys, signaling his arrival. luckily, you manage to turn off the lights last minute.

“baby? you here?” he calls for you, but you don’t respond. he keeps looking around trying to find you when you turn on the lights, appearing in front of him with the cake held in your hands.

“happy birthday toru!” you shout enthusiastically with a cheeky smile on your face. and satoru just couldn’t help but laugh at the cute little act of yours. he thanks you before he approaches you and gives your forehead a kiss as he places his hands on your waist.

the two of you sit down and eat the cake together.

“you know, i made it myself.” you say proudly

“so that’s why this year’s cake is so special. thanks, babe. you’re the best.” he replies before taking another bite.

“the cake might not be the only special thing of the day.” you ominously tell him. you can clearly see the slight confusion and anticipation on his face.

“what do you mean?” he asks curiously, waiting to know what you’re talking about. you take his hand and place it on your stomach.

“next year it won’t be just you and me, a little one is joining us.” you grab his other hand and entwine it with your own. “i’m pregnant, honey.” you happily announce your pregnancy to your husband.

“wait wait.. for real? babe, are you sure? am i gonna be a dad?” he asks, clearly still shocked by the sudden announcement. you nod as you bring him the ultrasound pictures of your baby as a confirmation.

you’re standing there right in front of satoru, watching how he’s reacting while eagerly waiting for his response. his reaction is a bit delayed due to his brain taking some time to process the news but once it hits him he lets go of your hand only to pull you close to him in a tight hug as he spins you around.

“this is the best thing i could ever ask for.. you have no idea how much i’ve been waiting for this, to have a family with you.” he says emotionally as a few happy tears escape from his eyes.

“you’ll be the best dad ever, toru. i love you.” you rest your hands on the side of his cheeks as you gently wipe away his fallen tears. he smiles softly, his hands placed on your waist as he leans closer to you. faces are only a few inches apart.

“i love you more than anything, babe. thanks for always making my birthday a day worth celebrating, i wouldn’t have it any other way.” he says before his lips capture yours in a passionate, loving kiss.

satoru is already looking forward to celebrating his next birthday with you and his little one.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies @suguru-getos

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic

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heartyluv · 3 months ago

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I love your writings of Zayne and Sylus! Can you do one of Zayne and Sylus (separately) where reader tells them that she thinks they should break up because she feels like she isn’t good enough for him so she needs to focus on herself, plus he’s been so busy, and they haven’t had time to be with each other for a while. Which leads up to this moment. Zayne and Sylus ofc get angry because they love reader so much and deny her request. No matter what they will always chose her and who is she to tell him how to feel. Kind of angsty, passionate, and deep yearning if you get what I’m saying. Thank you.🙇🏻‍♀️

Note: You guys are getting all the angst today LOLL. I had some extra time to actually get this done, especially since it didn’t need to be too long. I hope you enjoy, luvly! Thank you so much for being here.

Warning: You talk badly about yourself in this, but I’m here to tell you that all of you luvlys deserve nothing but the absolute best and nothing less. I luv you. 😚

Zayne

Zayne was worried when he got a text from you while he was at work during another one of his late night shifts. He hasn’t been able to be around you for long for the last couple of weeks because of being on call so often lately, so when you messaged him on your own accord for the first time in a while at almost one in the morning, all his focus was out the window. It was a good thing he was due to go home soon.

“Hey, Z. Sorry if you’re busy. Nothing’s wrong, but if you had time tomorrow, could I come by and we talk for a little bit? Love you.”

He wasn’t waiting until tomorrow. Especially when he tried to text and call you and you didn’t answer any attempt. And not when you texted him like that. No emojis, no babe, no lovebug, not even an I in saying that you love him. So when he finally was able to get out of the hospital, the first thing he did was drive to your home.

He doesn’t know about the mental turmoil you’ve been dealing with. He doesn’t know that it’s been going on long before he started getting really busy.

You’ve been feeling insecure about, well, everything. About you not feeling like you’re good enough for someone as talented, intelligent, and handsome as your boyfriend, feeling like he deserves someone who can match him in ways you believe you’re incapable of doing. The distance hasn’t helped, and all you could think of was all the pretty doctors and nurses that he’s around everyday, all the women he encounters on the daily who are undoubtedly just as enamored by him as you were when you first laid your eyes on him.

You tried to convince yourself that this was just you having a moment of weakness, that you simply missed him so much that your brain couldn’t help but try and pin something on you since you haven’t seen him in what feels like forever. It got so bad that you genuinely wondered if he was working overtime, longer than usual, just to get away from you.

Because you knew Zayne was never that cruel, you came to the conclusion that it was time to talk, to tell him that perhaps breaking up is good for the both of you so he doesn’t have to deal with you.

You were rehearsing all of what you hoped you could properly communicate in your bed, when you got a text.

“I’m outside. Please open the door.”

Your whole body froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here now. But you couldn’t just leave him out there, so you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready to tell him something you’d never be prepared enough to say.

His eyes were full of curiosity, confusion, and concern when you stood face to face. He was so worried that he didn’t even bother removing his coat or making himself comfortable. Instead, he just turned your light on so that he could see you properly.

“I got your text, yet you didn’t respond to me when I tried to message and call you back. You’ve worried me. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

You swallow, feeling the tears in your eyes burn as you tried to get yourself right to say what you needed to. But every time you looked into his worrying eyes, your heart cracked. For yourself and for the fact that even with the love in them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were undeserving of it.

“I think we need to break up, Zayne,” you rush out, shutting your eyes and breathing out as if you were being held underwater. No amount of tugging on your pajama sleeve was going to ease your nerves, so you resorted to your fingers, picking at the skin until it hurt.

Zayne hated that. He placed a large palm on both of your hands, looking down at them before he looked up at you.

“Is it something I’ve done wrong? Because of my recent increase in absence?” he studies you, trying to look for any of your ticks to try and see if you’ll lie.

“I just—” the tears fall loosely, rushing down your cheeks. Instead of piecing your thoughts together, they just start spilling out uncontrollably. “I just believe you deserve so much more than me, than what I offer you. I could never be what you need, what you deserve. You’re one of the youngest and most successful surgeons in the world, Zayne. You are so perfect that it makes me wonder how I was so lucky to be given someone like you. And because of that it’s best for me to just let you go so that you—“

“Stop,” he interrupts you. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve when everything and all I’ve ever wanted, needed, is standing right in front of me, trying to leave.”

Your heart beats rapidly from the intense emotions and heavy stress you’ve weighed upon yourself.

“I could lose my job, lose everything I’ve ever earned in this life, and the only thing that would keep me going is you, do you understand that?” He reaches his hand up to cup your face. “But because you’ve come to me with this, it’s obvious that I’ve failed in making sure you know and understand how special you are to me. And it is my responsibility to instill that security in you and us, again.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. He shut all of that down before you had the chance to dig an unnecessary hole deeper, even if that uncertainly is still in the back of your mind.

“I will listen to your concerns and I will mend your heart, but I will not let you discredit or talk down on the only person I’ll only and will ever, love. Is that fair?”

You nod, unable to speak due to embarrassment, relief, and even because of that tinge of fear in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you only mumble.

“There’s no need to apologize to me. It’s my fault for letting these thoughts have the chance to stew in your pretty mind when I know that reassurance is one of the things that keeps us strong. We’re okay, my love. We always will be.”

Sylus

When you started ignoring Sylus’ text messages today, he tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. You had times where you forgot to even look at your phone, so he couldn’t fault you. His kitten, funnily enough, was still human. He was bothered that you had only spoken with him once this morning and it was almost five in the evening now.

Even then, he figured that since he’ll see you later, you can tell him what was so much more important than him while he teased you about it. But when you ignored his phone calls, he knew there was a problem.

You never missed a call from him because his ringtone was the song he had playing when he asked to be your boyfriend. It was a beautiful night on a luxurious rooftop restaurant that he rented for the night as a special way to romance you. It was unique and the song always had you smiling, floating to your phone when you went to pick up as that same dreamy memory replayed in your mind. So now that you’re not answering, his anger and concern began to mend together.

“She’s home?” Luke says with confusion when he gives Sylus your location. He had him find you after his first and only attempt to call you went to voicemail.

“Boss, did you do something?” Kieran asks, his tone laced with shock. You never got like this and the only thing he could think was that after almost three years together, you must’ve had your first real big fight that they were unaware of.

Prepared to debunk that theory, he suddenly got the text message that had him in front of your house faster than anything or anyone could comprehend.

“I’m breaking up with you, Sylus. I’m so sorry.”

Sylus angry was scary—because he didn’t look angry. He had the face that you could compare to a sleeping baby; calm, peaceful unbothered. But under the surface, he was one wrong sentence away from losing his shit.

Your door was thrown open, broken off the hinges when you ran into your living room. His head quirked to the side when he saw you. Puffy and eyes, runny nose, oversized clothing in a relatively warm house. He didn’t know what was wrong, but running from him? He wasn’t allowing it.

“It seems you’ve gotten my attention as you anticipated, sweetie.” He steps toward you, feeling his heart twist with concern as you look at everything but his eyes. “You ignore me, and I allow it all day. Yet to repay me for my generosity, my sweet kitten decides to push her luck and sends me nonsense.”

His playful attempt to control himself drops when he thinks of how prepared you were to just send him that message as if he would ever just accept such a thing. “There is nothing above me that I an incapable of fixing when it comes to keeping you happy. Talk to me. Tell me what needs to be done so that we can resolve it together like we’re supposed to.”

You taught Sylus what real communication was. In this moment, he’s thankful for it because he’s determined to use it to get rid of all your worries and concerns. He tilts your chin up when you refuse to look at him and that sends the waterworks rushing again.

Sylus has been so busy that this was the first night you would’ve seen him face to face in over a month. A part of the reason as to why you were driven to send him that message is because you felt like he was only ready to see you since you nagged him so much.

Even if you didn’t seem to understand that, it couldn’t be further away from the truth for the man looking down at you with determination. Being away from you was hard, but your safety meant more to him than anything. Being apart from you was necessary to ensure nothing ever touched a hair on your head while he handled things you didn’t need to concern yourself with.

Between him being gone and the type of charismatic man he is, you firmly believed that Sylus would inevitably find someone better. You became so dependent on him in a way that made you feel desperate. You felt that maybe you were way in over your head, that this separation was needed so that you could accurately reflect.

You believe that he should have someone secure in themselves, someone who could keep up with him. Someone that was better than you, someone more than you’d ever be.

“I’ve been thinking… And I believe that it’s good for the both us to separate. I didn’t intend to drop this on you, not like this. I just feel like I’m not worthy of you—that you’re a man that women would give nothing but the best to. All I want is for you to get the things that make you happy, not have you settling for something like me.”

You’re surprised that he actually let you finish.

He breathes out, shaking his head slightly. “For someone so smart, your mind must’ve worked tirelessly to convince you to believe something so ridiculous.”

His thumb runs along your bottom lip, staring at them before he looks into your eyes. “It insults me that you don’t think that I know what I want, that I know what I deserve. It insults me that you would belittle the only real thing I’ve ever had in my life, so boldly. It angers me, that I’ve not done my part to properly ensure that you know that you are the only person alive that I would destroy this planet and myself for.”

Your breath hitches when he pulls you closer. “If you ever believed for a second, that I’d let you simmer in this darkness, that I’d let you leave me, I need to do a better job in showing you the kind of man whose children you’ll carry.” He kisses your nose. “Whose ring you’ll bear.” Another kiss to your lips. “Whose heart you will always own.” A final one to your forehead.

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling the emotions bubble inside you again, threatening to spillover. You want to believe that what you sent was a spark of simple insecurity. But you know it’s been inside you long enough for it to erupt the way it did.

It’s the fact that he would never even allow you to deal with any of this on your own that makes your tears spill.

“You don’t need to say anything, pretty.” He rubs the tears away, one by one as they come. “The only thing you need to tell me are ways we can make sure that this belief never plagues your mind again and how I can keep you confident in my love for you.”

He simply takes your hand, walking out of your apartment and makes a phone call to have your door repaired tonight because you’ll be staying with him until further notice.

“You’re stuck with me for life, kitten. Not even death could keep me from you. And I’m going to make sure that you always understand that.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #sylus x you #sylus x reader #lads sylus #lads zayne #love and deepspace angst

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navybrat817 · 10 months ago

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Vanilla Frosting

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a call at home and you decide to tease him a bit.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, dirty thoughts, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you.

A/N: I blame these photos as they gave me CEO vibes. And @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer . Again, before our couple has Muffin and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“I thought you said no calls, Boss.”

Bucky sighed and rolled up his sleeves as he looked toward the kitchen. You stood in the doorway with crossed arms and slow building irritation in your eyes. The sight of you always lightened his mood and made his heart race, but that look wasn't a good sign. Oh, he was in trouble.

Some sort of trouble.

As a CEO, he was always prepared to take the fall when it came to his company. Seeing your kissable mouth set in a grim line though? “It’s Steve’s fault,” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.

“Really, Buck?” Steve’s voice rang out from the laptop speaker.

“Yeah, really,” he snapped. When Steve found a partner like you, he’d get why he bent his will to you over everyone else. Hell, he welcomed Steve getting a bit of payback because it would mean his best friend would have found happiness. “I’m sorry, Cupcake,” he added in a softer tone to you.

He didn’t want to take the call, he really didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you and forget about the stress of work for an evening. He even assured you that there would be no work tonight, but Steve insisted he get on a video chat with some of the executive team. God knew the punk was relentless, but the unimpressed look on your face made him want to fire everyone and start from scratch.

The two of you had plenty of money, so you’d be set if he went that route.

“Steve’s fault, huh?” You slowly smiled after a moment. “Okay. You take the call and I’ll start making some cupcakes.”

Bucky cocked his head with a confused stare as you went further into the kitchen and out of sight. Baking cupcakes wasn't out of the ordinary for you, but you saying “okay” wasn't okay. He knew better. There was no possible way he was off the hook for this. He already had at least ten gifts in mind to buy you once the call wrapped up.

“I love you,” he called after you, not at all ashamed for anyone to hear that as they joined the meeting. If anyone eyeballed him or said an unkind word about voicing his feelings for you outside of the office, they could find another job.

“Love you, too!” You called back.

That brought a small smile to his face. “Let’s get started so we can all get back to our regular evening plans,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

After a minute, he glanced over the monitor as he heard gentle movement in the kitchen. You weren't slamming things around, which was good. You understood how crazy things could get since you were his secretary. It didn't mean he enjoyed taking time away from the two of you and he didn’t want you upset with him. Even if you weren't upset, he still had to make it up to you. He-

“Hey, Bucky?” Your eyes lit up as you appeared in the doorway again with a small bowl. He was certain he forgot how to breathe when he eyed what you were wearing: a new black and white apron. And nothing else. Jesus fucking Christ. “You want vanilla frosting for the cupcakes, right?”

Bucky subtly shifted in his seat as you sauntered further into the room, his throat dry at the sight of you. The curve of your hips, your hardened nipples teasing him through the fabric. Calling you beautiful wasn't enough. Your beauty was transcendent, indescribable. The kind that made the strongest of people drop to their knees. He was a powerful man, but still just a man at the end of the day and you rendered him powerless. And right now he needed to focus on the call, but how could he focus on anything but you?

He cleared his throat when Jack rambled on about something. Or was it John? Who gave a fuck? “Cupcake,” he growled.

“I know I do. Maybe you can frost me later?” You scooped a bit of frosting onto your finger and wrapped your lips around it with an obscene moan. Thankfully he had his microphone turned off. They didn't need to hear your pretty sounds. “Mmm.”

He groaned when you showed him your tongue. He knew it was frosting, but the image made it easy to picture you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock and showing him his release before you swallowed like a good girl. It took a lot of control not to palm himself. Surely everyone would understand if he ended the call now. Why the fuck did he take this call?

Making sure his hand was out of sight, he beckoned you closer with his finger. If he was lucky he could get you to take the apron off, sit in the nearby chair, and touch yourself. Or you could keep the apron on. As long as he could see your glistening pussy. Even looking wouldn't be enough. He had to get his mouth on it, his cock in it.

But you didn't go to him.

Instead, you tsked with the finger you licked and pointed at the laptop. “Oh, no, Boss. You listened to Steve and took the call. Now deal with the consequences,” you smiled sweetly, turning on your heel and giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walked back into the kitchen.

Yep, he was in big trouble.

Bucky's fists clenched as he got back to the task at hand, but he also chuckled. He deserved a bit of blue balls for the time being. He also had to respect the way you played the game, but he knew how to play the game, too. Before the night was over, he’d be back in your good graces. He’d eat one of your delicious cupcakes before he got a taste of you. And he'd remind you that he didn't have the world because of money, power, or any of that.

Bucky Barnes had the world because he had you.

Oh, these two. 🥰 Steve isn't even upset for getting blamed. 🤣 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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poisonofthepaint · 4 months ago

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Day After Tomorrow - Part Two

read part one here! part three here!

a/n: here is part two, i hope u enjoy!! the next part will be the last part. i'm having a lot of fun writing these, thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part!!!

content warnings: age gap between jack and reader, reader spills hot coffee on herself but it's nothing serious, lots of me repeating phrases i think lol, that's all!

Today, you woke up with a mission. You would not go to work tired. You would be prepared this time. Prepared for Jack Abbot. You wake up at 2:30 A.M. this time, and you get ready like it’s a regular hour of the day. You still don’t know if he’ll even come in. Yesterday, you spiraled when you allowed your brain to think. If he doesn’t come in, you also thought of a million excuses for him. It doesn’t have to be because of you! It could be that he is piled up with emergencies, he’s stuck in surgery, maybe the time got away from him.

You get to work and try to slow yourself down. You’re anxious, pacing around. You know if you finish all your tasks early, you’ll just be waiting around for him. You count the money in the drawer three times. You clean every spot on the espresso machine twice. You brew the coffee with exact precision. You fix your hair more times than you can count.

You look at the clock on the wall. 4:00 A.M. You glance at the door and remind yourself to look away. You are trying so hard to not be disappointed. You don’t want to put your hopes and dreams into this man. You didn’t know him. But God, you wanted to. You had replayed the conversation in your head until you could mark it down to the minute it happened. You thought the way he looked at you before he left. How he seemed like he didn’t want to drag his eyes away.

You sigh and shake your head, opting to make yourself another London fog, hoping the drink will summon him. You try to distract yourself, but there really is nothing else to do. You don’t get any customers this early, Jack was the only one. Since your coworkers were in the back, you had no one to talk to. You check the clock again, 4:10. You sigh, trying not to feel disappointed.

But then, it comes. The bell on the door rings. It feels like Gabriel’s horn just blew. He walks in. You smile, and think maybe you shouldn’t. You wanted to be cool today, but you couldn’t help it. He actually came.

“It’s nice to know you’re a man of your word.” you say as he walks over to the counter.

“Course I am,” he says. Jack smiles too, a small one, but it’s a smile.

“Do you just want another coffee?”

“Yeah, I do. And your number, if that’s not overstepping.”

You blank. The lack of sleep catches up to you in three seconds, tops. Your brain falters, you try to remember how to form a sentence, “Yes.”

He deadpans, “Yes, it’s overstepping?”

“No!” you basically yell. You clear your throat, try again, “No, not overstepping. Yes, I’d like to give you my number.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles, shaking his head, laughing a bit, “Had me scared there.”

“Sorry, it’s early.”

“Right, yeah,” you can tell he doesn’t believe you for a second. You can tell he knows you're nervous.

You decide you don’t want to be perceived anymore, and turn around to pour his coffee. But your hands are shaking. The pot slips a little, meaning you pour some of the freshly brewed, very hot coffee, on the hand that was stabilizing the cup.

“God, ouch!” you say.

Jack looks like he wants to jump over the counter. “Let me see.”

You turn around slowly, holding your hand. You decide to trust the doctor and let him take a look.

When he touches your hand, it’s like the burn amplifies, and your face feels as hot as the dark brown liquid that you just spilt everywhere. “I’m used to it, I’ll be fine.”

He lets out a sigh and shoots you a look that says, let me check it over thoroughly. You wonder how long he’ll spend touching you, you don’t know if you want it to end.

He has your injured hand flat in one of his, while the other is slowly flipping your hand over, softly touching everywhere the coffee spilt. He gives your hand two, small pats, and lets go slowly.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Cool water if the burning feeling doesn’t go away.”

You nod, bewildered, awestruck. You stand there like an idiot before remembering that he still needs his coffee. You pour the old cup out into the sink beside you, and throw it in the trash. You get him a new one since the coffee had spilled on the outside of the cup too. You pour the new one extra carefully, making sure to not spill it again. Although, you kind of wish you could, if it meant that Jack would touch you again.

“Will you let me pay today?” he says, a bit exasperated.

“You just gave me a free examination, obviously this is a fair trade.”

He scoffs. Throws a five in the tip jar, just like he did last time.

You hold out the cup to him, he takes it, letting his fingers brush yours as he does.

“And the other part?” he asks. “I don’t see your number on here.”

“You know, we do have cellphones now. You could take yours out and I’ll give you it. Or do you want me to write it on a napkin for you?”

He laughs again. Just like the ones you’ve been thinking about from two days ago. “Old fashioned, remember?”

He sets the coffee on the counter and grabs his phone out of his back pocket. It’s an iPhone with a matte black case. He taps around on it for a second and then hands it to you. You put your number in, and your name in the first name spot. He watches you with intensity. You don’t even see him, but you can feel it. Can feel his dark eyes watching you. You glance up and meet them. You don’t break eye contact as you hand the phone back.

He looks down at the information and then shuts his phone off, putting it back into his pocket.

You decide that you’re done being nonchalant. “I’m glad you came back.”

Jack nods, “I am too.”

You figure that you’ll need to get to know him a little bit better for him to give you a little bit more than that. He remains his mysterious self, but you’re glad you got a little bit of verbal reassurance.

You smile, laugh, shake your head and look down. “You know, for a second I thought I had just imagined you, because you came and went so fast.”

“That’s one way to tell me I’m the man of your dreams.” he smiles smugly.

Your face gets hot again. This time, you can’t make eye contact.

“Very smooth,” you try to joke, but your voice sounds rough. Your throat is getting a bit dry from the flirting.

Jack laughs, you keep count in your head of how many times this makes. You wonder if you’ll ever stop doing that. “Listen, I do have to get back today. But I'll text you with plans, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” you say, looking up at him now. You didn’t want to miss any more chances to see him.

“Okay, see you. And be careful with that coffee!” he points at you, eyes quickly looking down at your hand.

“Will do, Doc.”

He looks crushed. His brows furrow, and he swipes his palm down his face. you want to understand why this name always seems to get to him, but you can't come up with any reasons in your head. He leaves the same way he did before. Backwards, slowly inching towards the door. Once he leaves. You look at the door for at least a minute, wishing he’d come back. When you finally tear your aways away from the metal entrance, you realize he left his cup of coffee on the counter, and didn’t even take a sip out of it. You almost can’t believe it. He really did just come here for you this time, not because he needed any extra caffeine.

You spend the rest of your shift about the way you spent the one before: out of it. You checked your phone more times than you care to admit, and googled what time night shift doctors got off. You were done trying to convince yourself to not spiral about it, because it was real, and it was happening. A doctor was going to text you and make plans for a date, and that was all that mattered in your mind at this moment.

Your shift was long, and busy, but this time, the crowds of people couldn’t drag Jack away from your mind. Every customer you served, you thought about him. You imagined his face there instead, thinking about him being at the end of the long line. You got an order for a small black coffee and you peered around the cafe, trying to see if he came back.

When your shift ends, you check your phone again, and this time, there’s a text from an unknown number.

Does Friday at 6pm sound good?

#the pitt #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot #dr abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #jack ⋆⁺₊❅. ㅤ

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