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cixteenyne · 3 days ago

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AITA: I Kidnapped My Childhood Crush and Got Her Pregnant!

Summary: You run from Caleb after being kidnapped for a year. He finds out and brings you right back.

Content Warning: Drugging, Past Somnophilia, DubCon, Breeding, condescending caleb, mocking, mirror sex, manhandling, Yandere caleb, kidnapping, pussy eating, overstim, Rough sex, intimidation tactics, manipulation, Big Dick Caleb, mouth covering, you’re lwk a sick freak in this too…hair tugging, Uniform sex, slight hate sex…? Threats of humiliation, Threats in general he’s crazy, obsessive behavior, power imbalance? He’s a government worker so..

A/N: Also on ao3 yay

Caleb was a man of control, whether or not he was controlling himself or others- he was always in control. This did not stop. Even for you. If anything- it doubled. Everything had his input whether you liked it or not, as any good boyfriend would. You liked to gripe and whine that he was nothing of the sort, and you were ‘not dating his crazy ass’, but– you didn’t know anything, nor did you know what was good for you. You couldn't even lock your windows properly to keep strangers out. Not that he’s a stranger, besides- he would have gotten in anyway.

This really sets the scene for how upset he was at you. Just plain unhappy, how could you be so stupid? Going out without explicit say so from him, god you’re so ungrateful.

He walked down the halls with a mission, the same air of authority he always had. Maybe the uniform made him seem like you just had to listen to him- Obey. His subordinates, at least the ones you’d seen that day, seemed too rigid- too fearful, to be anything but practiced..-Learned obedience. Obedience bred by fear was something he swore by when it came to his work. Maybe it was time to apply it to you too.

His footfalls were heavy, hard to miss, impossible to ignore. Maybe that’s what the sense of foreboding was in your dreams, it’s too foggy to tell.

Caleb turned the knob and opened it to a crack. No sounds, lights off. Ah, so you’re still sleeping. Poor you, so sleepy, so tired after a day of disobeying any rule he set.

But, it’s not like he could be entirely too mad that you took the bait. Yea, sure— he set you up. He just wanted to see if you’d be desperate enough to think he’d be so stupid as to lighten up his security measures. The cameras that were way too obvious being turned off, yet the ones that weren't the camera staged as a doorknob, the one pretending to be a flower bud, even the one posing as a damn charging port? They were very much still on.

But everything else seemed to just be gone! Lucky you..! Except the bolted shut windows, the bullet proof military grade windows you couldn’t dream of shattering, the metal kitchen door to keep you away from the knives and glass, the lack of sharp edges never made a reappearance in the house either. The damn thing was basically baby proofed to hell and back. All with the goal of keeping you here. Keeping you safe. And you found a way out through pure dumb luck. Planned dumb luck. The one day he decided to test you by very simply leaving the door unlocked. (ignoring the 12 security systems and pass codes set in place when you come within 2 feet of it and even attempt to open it.)

And you took the bait. And you had the audacity to sleep after it all. Oh, he was going to fucking ruin you for this.

Each step closer toward your bed echoed from the heavy boots he wore. Boots he trudged through blood in. He bent down, crouched at your side and ran his fingers lightly above your neck. He ‘ought to leash you, really. You’d gone out. Sure, the moment you left you were never actually gone. All under his surveillance and tracking. He saw everything— but.. what if you’d gotten hurt, hm? What would poor Gege do? Extensive measures might have to be taken, then. Like the vulnerable kitten who just kept trying to escape when you were both young.

The truth is, you weren't sleeping. And you sure as hell weren’t unaware, he made sure of that. He wanted you to know what was going to happen to you, and know you deserved it. The type of man he is wasn't an ethical one. He wasn’t above anything, and that meant being a good Gege and giving his sweet girl some water when she returns home from her little escapade.

He drugged your water. Clearly. Just enough to knock you out for the day, light shit. He could have very well gotten you light headed, babbling and mushy brained- but where’s the fun in that?

“Gege’s home.. T’awww, my sleepy girl, yeah? Long day..?”

You woke up from your bout of drug induced unconsciousness, already fed up with him. You should have known it was too good to be true. A door unlocked? In this house? Really..? Fuck, you walked right into it with the lone glass of water you knew damn well wasn’t there when you left. But you were so thirsty and everything was suspiciously out of all their stock all of a sudden after just a couple customers or closed. Like.. everything. There would be customers buying things leisurely, yet the moment you strolled up to get something, they were out.

Yes, he did pay off (read; threaten) every shop runner to close down for the day, either that or refuse you service the moment they recognized you.

You didn’t respond to him taunting you, it seemed like every word you spoke up until now only fueled him and his fucked up head.

“Mute now, hm? I didn't drug you up that much.. I don’t think so, at least.” He trailed his hands down your back, rubbing up and down as if he were soothing you, but it only felt like a threat. Each stroke of his hand across your body had a purpose you couldn’t quite make out yet. A reminder of sorts.

“Been thinkin’ Pip. Real hard, so try and understand. If I were… to.. say- impair you, that would make you easier to manage, yeah?” That got a reaction out of you.

“Caleb, stop talking like that— isn’t this whole sick thing just to keep me ‘unharmed’” you rushed it out as if any second later would have gotten you killed. Maybe it would have. It was like a hostage situation and you had to talk him down before he got any funny ideas. “Well, calm down, I didn’t say I was going to. N’ I said I was thinking. Am I not allowed to think?”

Unfortunately for you, his ideas were about to get hilarious.

Saying no would imply you’re setting a boundary and he would get mad. Saying yes would imply he could think up whatever sick shit he wanted and you’d be on board and he would get trigger happy. You lost either way, so you said nothing.

–Which implied that you 100 percent wanted what he hadn’t even said out loud yet. Caleb logic.

He flipped a switch in a second and suddenly your chest is on the mattress and he has your wrists in a one handed grip. Combined with his weight pressing down onto you made it impossible to even imagine escaping.

He pressed even more weight on your body, leaving down until his chest met your back, his head coming to the side of your face, making sure you heard him loud and clear.

“That means i’ve gotta’ breed you ‘till you take. Then you can never leave. I'm gonna keep you here, and so will your body.”

As he says this his hands snake around and under your body, laying his forearm under your hips and pulling them up with him, giving him access to your shorts. His chest being to your back made the sense of foreboding that much more potent, you couldn’t read his face because you simply couldn’t see it.

His fingers unbutton your pants and slide them down “Gonna let me do this? ‘Gonna let Gege make you his? He’s doing this for you. For your own good..”

“Is gege scaring you? Hm?”

If you say no, he’s only going to up the ante. If you say yes, it’s going to go to his head and he’s gonna get trigger happy. So you just moan as he grinds into your panties.

That moan must mean this excites you. And it does. Not that you’d ever admit that to this sick fuck. But if you’re enjoying it to an extent— what does that make you? C’mon, he’s hot, you’ve known him 99% of your life, and you’ve had the hots for him since you were 16, it was just a crush back then. Just a crush.

For him it was so much more. It was an obsession in a ‘family’ shaped bottle, sure, he wanted to be a kind figure in your life– but he also wanted to be the only figure in your life. He didn’t want to be family, or friends, he wanted to be yours and that wasn't possible as long as he was who he was. At least without all the faux kind smiles and calm demeanor. He was always like this. The incident just gave him the perfect excuse to unleash it.

Each roll of his hips into yours just pushed you into arousal further and further, sue you- you liked it, big whoop.

Each time he touched you, it was like wrestling with Satan the way you tried to deny how much you wanted him- it’s just the way he goes about it that unsettled you. But you didn’t even know the half of it. You moaned when his fingers began to circle your clit, rubbing feather light like it was barely there only to press down, making your hips draw back into his.

The sounds of his huffs against your ear only heightened your pleasure, God- he sounded so fucking good, panting like a damn dog every time he laid a hand on you, hips rolling wildly. The texture of his clothed bulge against your bare pussy was a contrast as delicious as any.

He starts to suck on and kiss your neck, licking with no direction, just pure instinct. The need for him to leave some kind of mark on your was unbearable for him- he couldn't ignore an opportunity to boost his ego. “Fuck, pip- so sweet for me, so fuckin’ sweet..”

The filth and praise he whispered in your ear as his fingers swirled slowly was intoxicating. He was so fucking intoxicating.

“Gonna go faster, baby, faster. Gonna make you cum.” and he did. He went so much faster. His fingers jerked back and forth under you as his panting increased. You writhed as you sank your face further into the bed, only getting so far before he gripped your jaw and forced your head to the side. “Don't hide, you don’t hide from it. From me.” The squelching and obscene noises he was ripping from your soaked cunt was something you never thought possible, his fingers gliding along your wetness making sounds that filled up the room.

“That’s it baby, louder. Louder.” he goaded. Egging you to get louder and louder until even the cameras in the garage could pick it up. All so he could watch it back later.

The pressure building up inside of you was hard to ignore, and he knew it. Fingers going impossible faster as your pussy drooled onto the sheets under you, staining them for the near future. Knowing the sick fuck- he’d probably fold ‘em up and put it in a display case.

His panting turned into moans as he felt you dripping all over his fingers, they merged into incredulous laughs. “Shit, baby- gonna fuckin’ cum, hm? I know…” Your whines got higher and higher until the pressure snapped like a rope holding a truck. Liquid squirting out of your cunt like a waterfall, pooling in his hands and onto the sheets.

Caleb groaned as your juices warmed his hands, fingers rubbing into your slit lazily just to hear the sounds your pussy would make. She always made such delicious sounds.

The gloves of his uniform now covered in your slick and cum, he leans back to teeth them off. His chest no longer on your back as he sat up on his knees, yet his hips never left yours. “M’not done yet, Pip. not yet..”

Gloves tossed to the side, he shoves his coat aside to get to his heavy belt buckle. The tingle and clink of every movement just made you clench around nothing. Through the loop, and pull. ‘Clank!’ The belt fell. ‘Ziiiip.’ His fly was undone.

And suddenly his bare cock was resting on your back. Fuck– no matter how many times you saw it, it never got less daunting just how big it was. He gripped his cock by the tip, thumb pressing up against the head as he dragged it down your ass and to your waiting cunt. The way he rubbed it up and down, and up.. And down- Fuck.

He moaned and lolled his head to the side, as if getting every angle to his dick dipping between your folds just barely only to pull back, the strings of your last orgasm connecting you each time you pulled away. Caleb's hands came to grips your ass, spreading it to make way for his cock. Kneading and squeezing wherever he wanted. He gripped lower to your thighs, spreading them to see your pussy throbbing with need. You arched into his touch, desperate for anything.

He suddenly ceased all movement, his hands leaving you as he dragged you by the legs to the edge of the bed. “Shh, to the side– there you go, look to the side.”

It was you. In the mirror you’d forgotten was there, a tall wide mirror on the side of the bed. The scene it replicated was like drugs to Caleb. Fuck that deer in headlights look you had, the way his cock prodded against your cunt, the strings of cum dripping to the floor, the arch– all of it tightened his balls and now he was sure. He was going to breed you silly.

He pulls himself away from you, slowly getting to his knees, level with your slick pussy. He breathes in a huff of it, groaning when he releases the air. “Fuck.. best fuckin’ thing in the world, my sweet girl.”

Shoving is face into your pussy he licks a long line up it, tasting every inch of it. Caleb felt his cock twitch with each lick of your sweet pussy, already addicted to every little clench against his lips. He sucks your folds into his mouth, letting go with a sloppy pop before diving right back in, nodding his head up and down wildly into your cunt.

The way he looked in the mirror was too much, yet you couldn't look away. He looked so good on his knees feasting on you, lost in how you tasted. Your back arched even further into his face, pushing your hips back as he groaned behind you.

“All ‘f it baby, yeaaah.. All in my mouth..” he just kept talking into your pussy, mumbling sweet words into it like you weren't losing your mind as he latched onto you as if he were trying to suck something out of you.

And he was, he wanted it so badly. He wanted- needed– something to come out, more, more, more. Your juices dripped down his chin, down to his neck and into the collar of his uniform, it was so messy you had to turn away from the mirror to save face.

Everything was so mushed together in your head that you couldn't focus on anything but the slurps and sucks of his mouth as he licked and licked and licked. He finally leans back for a deep breath, giving you a moment of reprieve. But only for a second to palm his cock slowly, just staring at your pussy as it dripped and drooled. Lips wet and shiny as he heaved, the uniform rubbing against his heated skin with each stroke of his dick. Only four slow strokes before he simply dove back in, lips attaching to your clit, thumb pushing into your hole. He tightened his hand around his cock with a moan as you pushed your face into the bed. You fisted the sheets, your leg lifting as he shook his head back and forth, the obscene sounds filling the room. Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head each time his thumb sped up to match the rhythm of his tongue.

The tension inside you was coiling and curling with the heat in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with each suck of your lips. The sounds of his hand going faster and faster up and down his cock as he ate you out was hypnotizing. You don't even recall when he stopped, edging himself just before he came, focusing completely on your pussy.

Both his hands came to your ass, gripping enough to leave bruises as he opened his mouth wide and fucking sucked. Your voice wavered and shook with each moan, your thighs trembling. You pulled your hips away from his mouth trying to get some reprieve, but he only slid his hands to your thighs, pulling you even harder into his face, sucking deeper, shaking his head, his arms snaking around your thighs, locking you to his face.

You looked into the mirror and had to look away immediately after. The sight of his face pulled flush against your ass, head moving wildly, body tensed with pleasure. The coil pulled tighter the moment his tongue began to thrust in and out of you. It snapped the moment he moaned directly into your ruined cunt, your cum flooding his mouth as he drank it down like it was the first sight of water he’s seen in weeks.

He unlocked you from his face and held your lower thigh as he licked up everything lazily, jaw moving smoothly between your thighs, the sigh of it in the mirror was fucking beautiful.

He finally pulls away slowly, a thick string of saliva stretching as he backs away and breathes in deeply, catching his breath. Caleb slowly stood, stroking himself slowly as he laid a hand on your back. “Remember why were here, pip. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Gonna breed you, baby..”

His slow praise was all that clouded your mind as he lined himself up with your wrecked cunt and pushed in, inch by inch as he stretched you, filling you up as you clenched. “So fuckin’ tight, my tight girl..” he moaned as he lifted his knee onto the bed, looking into the mirror on the side watching your scrunched face, bitten lips and arched back. Caleb leaned forward, pushing himself inside you deeper. He buried his cock into you to the base, his balls snugly against your cunt. Not even giving you a second to breathe, he immediately began to slam his dick into and out, thrusting roughly into you.

He reaches his hand to your hair and grips, pulling your hair, forcing you up to your hands. “Thought..-fuck..! Thought i forgot all about today, hm?” He laughs between moans as he tightens his grip on you. “I’ll never for-hah..forget. As long as I have the footage.. Of this.”

Of course someone like Caleb had cameras, even in the bedrooms. You expected nothing less. “Say yer’ fuckin’ sorry, pip. Fuck.. Say it.” You can only whine in response as he fucks you, hips thrusting so roughly your whole body shakes.

“Say it- fuckin’ say it. I’ll fucking show everyone how much- hah.. Shit- how much ‘a slut you are.” Of course he wouldn't actually show anybody what was his. As much as he loved the idea of showing his subordinates exactly what they could never have– you were for his eye only, especially when he’s got you like this. Then, you started clenching like a whore when he threatened to show everyone.

He leaned forward to taunt filth into your ear, calling you all sorts of names for sarong to clench after that, what a slut, right? His pounding became more and more relentless, messy, and deep. The way you reached back and gripped onto his starched and pristine ironed uniform, pulling him closer.. It drove him crazy– you drove him crazy. All the more reason to never let you leave.

He sucked marks and bruises into your neck, kissing your cheek before turning your face to his, shoving his mouth onto yours. He moaned into your mouth as you whined into his.

He broke away from you and spaced his knees further and forced you into a mean arch. “Almost done, baby- almost..” he breathed into your neck. He gave a slight pause before he was pounding into your slick cunt over and over again, his hands digging into the soft of your hips, never daring to let go. Caleb's noises overpowered yours, so vocal and unabashed in how good you made him feel, so good he couldn’t seem to shut up.

He felt his balls begging to be emptied, begging to fill you up– he was insatiable. And so were you. You kept fucking your hips back into his, never letting his leave yours for too long. Due to him having never taken his uniform off, Tech and all– Suddenly his radio roared to life in his ear. Ah, now he remembers, he came here on break, he’s still on the clock. Despite this his thrusting never stopped, only slowing to just slick sounds instead of the pounding that took over the room. He tapped his ear to pick up. “State your business.”

You’d never be able to tell he’s fucking the life out of someone with how steady his voice was. The slow place he was going did nothing to lessen the heat in your belly, only churning it more. Your low whines made it to Caleb’s ears only a second before he lifted your head and shoved his hand against your mouth, giving you a particularly hard thrust that made you come undone unexpectedly. He knew, but he paid it no mind, keeping his slow pace all while the Fleet personnel droned on in his ear piece. “I see, and you’ve done as i told you? Every single file?”

The overstimulation was slowly creeping up on you, eye getting glossy, drooling into his hand as it gripped your face. All your senses are full of him.

In the haze of your mind you couldn't really hear anything, just the slick sounds of how he lazily dragged his cock and in out of you. His thrusts sped up, his voice becoming a little more strained. “Meet at 0700, all Fleet Personnel under my command– will be in attendance, we’ll talk then.” There was a noticeable pause when he spoke, but if the man on the other end wished to keep his life, he’d shut up about it. And he did.

“Looks like I've gotta speed this up, Pip. Duty calls.” He braced one knee on the bed, one foot on the floor, angling himself into you. He could feel himself getting closer to cumming just from repositioning. He pulled his aching cock out of you, rubbing the weeping tip onto your cunt before slipping right back inside.

You both moaned at that. You both fit so perfectly– so deliciously with one another, he could only wonder why he hadn't locked you up sooner. He began his pace, hips snapping with quickness against yours, giving neither of you reprieve. If you were overstimulated before, it was worse– or better now. He kept hitting that spot that made you see stars and forget where you were. Thinking only ‘Caleb, Caleb, Caleb’ as if you were under a spell.

Ropes of stray arousal spouted from his dick with each thrust. “Fuck, fuck f- oh.. Pip, y’so fuckin’ perfect for me. Taking my dick so perfectly..” You could only moan, no words coming to mind, only his name. You’d never felt so full.

He rolled his hips harder, impossibly harder. Again, and again, and again– you reached your hands back and began pushing his hips away. Well, trying. “You can take it, pip. I know you can..-fuck.. You can.”

Could you really? You felt like you were getting split in half and swallowed. You had walked into the jaws of a beast, and how had you only just now realized that? His hips began to stutter and stall, his dick twitching inside of you as he threw his head back with a loud groan that seemed to shake the house. “Gonna..fuckin’ cum, baby… almost– almost, ah…ah fuck.” His voice took on a whiny quality as he began to tense up. His moans spilled through bitten lips, and a raw throat. Fuck, he was gonna fill you up. “Ready? Yeah, all ready for Gege.. fuck- gonna fill you up..”

He began panting, his voice cracking and going off kilter. His balls tightening with each thrust before the dam finally broke. His semen rushing out of his spent cock, filling your needy cunt.

His thrusts never stopped, riding out his orgasm and pulling one more from you. He was overstimulating both you and himself, unable to stop himself, unwilling to part from you. His broken whines filled the room, pushing his face into your neck once more, breathing you in. The feeling of his cum sitting deep into your womb was dizzying, leaving your brain mushed. Caleb wasn't faring much better– but, alas– he has a job to do, like, right now.

He slowly slides himself out of you, making a milky stream of his seed spill from your puffy cunt. He groaned deeply at the sight. “That should do it, yeah?” He chuckled as he caught his breath, straightening his uniform.

Something must have rang in his ear, because he tapped at it once and his eye hardened for a sec before it was gone. His eyes slid back over to you as he zipped himself back up, smiling as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see if it takes when I get back. I hope you learned something today, Pipsqueak.”

Although his voice took on a light hearted tone, there was something under it that promised worse if he found you to disagree. He rolled you onto your back, your body feeling as heavy as bricks, yet your limbs like jello. You don’t remember him leaving to grab moist towelettes, but he came back to wipe you done a while ago and took a step back to look you over with what most would say was a soft look. It just seemed smug.

“But, we both know when it comes to you.. Lessons are hardly learned in one sitting.” Basically, Caleb's way of saying; ‘I hope you’re not stupid enough to try and escape again.’ And, you were not.

After a staredown where he went blank for a moment, he clapped suddenly and turned on his heel towards the door, unlocking and opening it. “Gege wont be long, so just lay there.” Was all he said before he was ‘gone’. To Duty. blood and grime, coverups and sinister deals. To the Fleet. Yet his eyes were still on you, cameras, listening devices, alarms all littered by the handful around the room. So, you laid there, and you waited.

Because now? You knew better than to disobey.

#lads #lnds #lads caleb #caleb smut #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lnds smut #lads smut #caleb x reader smut #love and deepspace smut #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere smut #x reader #smut #yandere lads

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zeka-maki · 3 days ago

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Hello! May I request a Phainon, Aventurine and Mydei with a reader who YEARNS for them? Like when they are in public, and look to the readers eyes, there's always a look of affection behind it. The reader may not be so loud about it but they knows what the reader gives behind those eyes. The reader does anything for them to be with them. Perhaps learning how to cook and make simple gifts, sleep with them, take care of them. But behind those yearning eyes is a wanting to receive affection and love as well. Perhaps the reader can be compared to a dog but who knows. The reader doesn't want anyone else but THEM even perhaps marrying them someday but the reader won't say it yet.

Honestly, this feels relatable to me especially watching the new trailer.I hope this isn't a hassle to write and I hope you have a great day!💕

ʚɞ More than just a dream ʚɞ

Pairings: Phainon x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Mydei x Reader

Summary: You don't say how much you long for his eyes on you, you express it through the little gestures that can easily blend in with mundane tasks. But he notices them, every single time. And he knows, he's just as a fool for you as you are for him. The love you give him through the well-crafted gestures will never go in vain.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, you can make it pre-established relationship too, yearning, yearner x yearner (esp on Phainon's part)

A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQ! AUGH YEARNER X YEARNER MY FAV TROPE, theyre so loser but Mydei n aventurine hides it better, anyways, hope you enjoy!

⚘ Phainon:

Phainon sees it — every time.

That quiet flicker in your eyes when your gaze lingers on him, the way your hands tighten around a basket you brought for him, filled with things he once mentioned in passing. The way you always wait for him to return from training, your breath hitching just slightly when he’s within arm’s reach. You never say it aloud. But gods, he hears it in everything you do.

And he mirrors it.

Every chance he gets, Phainon finds his fingers brushing yours, not by accident. He lets you patch his wounds even when he could do it himself. He offers to walk you home even if it means doubling back across the city with his greatsword and Aglaea's orders on his back. When you sleep too close to him during quiet resting hours, his heart skips but he never moves away. He wants that closeness — all of it. Wants you to know he yearns just as hard.

“You always look at me like that,” Phainon murmurs once, fingers curled around yours like they were meant to be there. “Like I’m all you’ve ever wanted. Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you when you do?”

Your breath catches. But he doesn't tease you — no, Phainon leans closer and rests his forehead against yours. His voice is soft, almost shy. “I want you too. Just as much. Maybe even more.”

⚘ Aventurine:

Aventurine doesn’t understand.

Not why you’re still here. Not why you cook for him without being asked. Why your hands brush over his shoulder like it’s normal — like he’s not made of sharp pieces and past regrets.

You laugh with him. You bring him gifts. You look at him like he’s everything. And for a man who’s lost everything before, it hurts to be loved like this.

He tries to play it cool. Makes sly remarks when you offer to fix his collar, pretends to be annoyed when you light a candle in his quarters just because he said the room was “too dim.”

But one night, you fall asleep beside him — not touching, not expecting. Just… there. Aventurine stares at you for a long time. And something in him breaks.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” he whispers to the quiet, hands trembling as he reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And maybe that’s the truth. Because when you look at him with that open, gentle heart — he forgets that he ever lived a life without love.

⚘ Mydei:

Mydeimos is a warrior. A prince. Built from the stones of Castrum Kremnos, raised to command with the weight of mountains on his back.

So when you tuck a warm wrap around his shoulders on a windy night and mutter something about “chilly days,” Mydei pretends not to notice the way his heart flinches.

You never ask for anything. You never demand. You just… show up. With bandages, with food, with a song, with a laugh. And your eyes — gods, your eyes — they look at him like he’s not just some hardened soldier who’s seen too much.

He plays it cool. He shrugs when you catch him watching you. He smirks when you leave notes on his training blade.

But every gesture you make chips away at the walls around him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you one Parting-Hour, voice low, arms crossed as you fuss over a cut on his cheek. “But you’re dangerous like this. You make me forget I’m not supposed to need someone.”

You glance up, startled, but Mydei doesn’t pull away. He just sighs and lets his forehead rest against yours — rough, tired, but unshakably yours.

“...Stay a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “You’ve already ruined me anyway.”

#❀࿐ the bride writes #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr phainon #phainon fluff #phainon x reader #phainon x you #aventurine x you #aventurine fluff #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #mydei fluff #mydei x you #hsr mydei #mydei x reader

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enviedear · 3 days ago

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JASON TODD as a father—to a girl.

he’s not the kind to be a performative girl dad. he’s not the dad who coddles her purely based on gender, hell no. he respects her, because she’s a person. one he helped make. one he’d level the earth for. jason is not the dad who does it for show. what he does do it for—her, and her mom. the people he loves. the girls who matter.

he’s the kind of dad that learns, actually and practically. he does her hair with the practiced precision of a man who uses a gun more than hair ties, but it always comes out perfect. jason todd is not the kind of man that would half-ass his own kids’ hair. he learns how to speak softer, even when he’s mad. even when she ruins his last good pair of gloves with glue and stickers. when she draws on his case files. sticks smiley face stickers on his helmet. uses his body like a jungle gym when he’s sore from patrol. he never stops her. not once.

she makes him softer, but never weak. just…clearer. sharper in the ways that matter. more deliberate with his time. with his words. with his hands.

he doesn’t shout unless something’s on fire. he doesn’t punish emotion, hers or his. when she loses it in the cereal aisle, he doesn’t walk away. he kneels. breathes with her. says, “hey, we’ll figure it out.” until they do.

he knows how to sit on the floor with her, knees cracking and all, and listen to her talk about things he doesn’t fully understand—schoolyard drama, cartoons about friendship, the difference between mermaids, naiads, and sirens.

he listens like it’s gospel, because it’s her voice saying it, so it is. because she’s excited to tell him. because he never wants to be the reason she stops sharing.

jason learns how to handle being scared again. not the kind of fear he knows—bullets or shadows or defeat—but the kind that creeps in quietly when she coughs too hard, or when she doesn’t answer right away, or when she starts growing up and away from him.

he learns that fatherhood isn’t about protecting her from everything, it’s just about showing up, over and over, even when he’s tired or guilty or convinced he’ll fail.

he’s not overly sentimental, but he keeps every note she leaves in his nightstand drawer. he lets her doodle in the margins of his favorite books, right beside her mother’s inscriptions and notes. he’s not sappy, but he is loving. always.

jason doesn’t do bedtime stories in the traditional sense. he tells her toned-down versions of fairy tales with his own twists, where the princess saves herself and her best friend is a motorcycle, and there are no love interests aside from a man and woman eerily similar to him and her mother.

he learns how to apologize, too—when he’s too short with her, when his temper flares and her’s does too, when he sees a flash of the old him in her stubborn little frown. he says sorry and he means it, because he never wants her to grow up thinking love comes with sharp edges.

he’s not soft. but for her, he is safe. secure.

and that’s better.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ writer's note | this was a request and i just had to. so here, my thoughts on girl dad!jason. i love him. most of this is based off of how he was as robin (staunch based feminist jaybin save us) !!

if you liked this lmk with a reblog and/or comment <3

#⤸ enviedear #jason todd x reader #jason todd #redhood x reader #dc jason todd #dc red hood #jason todd thoughts #jason todd fluff #redhood jason todd #the red hood #redhood #redhood x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine

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triglycercule · 3 days ago

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happy birthday horror sans :D ‼️🎉

"should i list them in alphabetical order? aggravated assault, child abuse, contempt of court, harassment, first-degree murder... wait, what comes after that?"

"oh, it doesn't matter. horror's as every bit as guilty as the rest of us. doesn't this seem like fitting retribution for his spite?"

"hm, you bring up a good point. i suppose it was long overdue for him to be judged anyways."

"aww, look at that, he's panicking so hard he's dead silent. ehe, i can't wait to watch his head roll."

"good one. ew, did he just throw up? off with his head."

1 | 2 | 3

#tricule art #LETS GOOOO I DIDNT MISS HIS BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR #in fact i didnt miss ANY of the mtt's birthdays this year im so happy :DDD #and im really satisfied with what the concepts were for each of them :3c #dust's bday art was the oldest so i'd probably do it better now but for my skill at that time it was nice :p #anyways i did this last time but yes yes we shall be explaining what this one means because i love sneaking meanings into this #the whole concept for all of the trio's bday art was execution #therefore dust got hanged killer got...??? self destructed or something and horror gets the guillotine!!!#i wanted to choose methods of death that would make sense for them thematically. horror has always had a big focus on his HEAD #he loses his eye he gets a whole in his head his mind is changed and fucked up after the core and in a sense he's 'lost his head'#so why not take it literally and remove it?? especially with irony of him saying ONE HEAD DOG COMING UP!!! HE is the the headdog this time #the whole thing is bright and spirally (i tried) because horror is panicking a lot in this. he can't tank the headchop and he knows it #ive always had this hc that horror is afraid of pain (to contrast kist) and ig this one death too. this is IT for him he cant get up again #so he's getting a little nauseous yes thats why the green and spirals are there #he's sweating he's breathing hard and kist look kinda unrecognizable for him in this moment #ESPECIALLY with how theyre taunting him perhaps horror sees 'red' which is why they look red #or perhaps that red could refer to the red of his blood? he's panicking so much he cant tell whether the blade has fallen yet or not #also i tried doing styles similar to the mtt creators for kist but horror's creator is uhh........ so anyways i just did a 'comic' style #with the halftones and stuff idk ive always found halftones interesting but never knew how they worked until now hehe anyways #thats it for my mtt birthday posts for the year :3 see you next year in 2026 for more mtt bday art hehe #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #murder time trio #utmv #sans au #eyestrain

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you-can-a1ways-come-home · 2 days ago

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i know people have already dissected pretty much all of Tenna and Spamton’s dialogue connections, but i wanted to point out something i noticed that i haven’t personally seen mentioned before, and how it may tie in to their relationship. this could just be me going “i’ve connected the dots!” here, but…

these are the only instances in the game where Tenna says this specific line, and it seems like an intentional reference in the writing to parallel these moments with each other. we know Spamton is connected to and knows that jingle, because he also quotes it in his Neo fight (in reference to Tenna and Mike). it seems like it was probably an ad they made together.

many people have pointed out that the Tropic of Love was probably a special place for Tenna and Spamton, and to me, this further implies that; it also implies that Tenna was thinking about/missing Spamton in both of these moments. (and yet still tries to pretend he doesn’t miss him at all ….. )

the other evidence that the Tropic of Love is connected to Spamton has been discussed before but i wanted to put it here for clarity!

the song that plays on the Tropic of Love is called “SOUTH OF THE BORDER!!” and is the only song in the chapter to be capitalized and have multiple exclamation points, similar to the way Spamton speaks.

(i’ve also heard people say that this song and the “KEYGEN” song — when Spamton flashes rainbow colors like the trees do on the Tropic of Love — share a leitmotif, and the first few notes of both do sound similar, but as far as i know this hasn’t been completely confirmed yet? correct me if im wrong)

the only other time the phrase “south of the border” is used in connection with Deltarune is Spamton’s dialogue in the description for the “Mr and Mrs and Spamton cutting board” on the Spamton Sweepstakes page, which also feels like a very intentional reference.

and Spamton does indeed cross out Tenna with a red marker on the below page, which of course you can find linked in the “Spamton engraved wedding ring” description. there’s an implication here that Spamton bought a wedding ring for Tenna, never got to give it to him, yet still kept it for years — we know some other things found in the Spamton Sweepstakes have factored into canon in some way (Noelle’s blog posts, some questions Spamton answered on Twitter, many hidden links)

(still don’t know what went down w Spamton and Mike tbh)

basically the point here is that the Tropic of Love was almost certainly some kind of romantic getaway or memento for them — and Tenna kept it in his special version of the game even after everything that happened; he still thinks of it fondly. they both care way more than they want to let on, and still can’t get each other out of their heads (after at least a decade apart, if the hidden mailroom dialogue means anything). and, despite all their obvious anger and resentment, despite falsely believing that the other abandoned them and never actually cared at all, they absolutely still deeply miss each other. (there are so many instances i could point out that imply this but this post already took me way too long to put together! lmao)

i mean, famously bitter grudge-holder Spamton G. Spamton was overjoyed at the chance to reconcile when he realized that Tenna cares about him after all, that maybe he wasn’t only using him that whole time just to find out his secret. (“you really do care!!!”) and even after he got humiliated by Tenna yet again, Spamton wasn’t really even angry — more just disappointed and resigned. and Tenna, who thinks Spamton was just using him the whole time, that Spamton pretended to get a phone call just so he could abandon him at the very last minute, still keeps the gift Spamton gave him as his prized possession, still wishes Spamton could just be there for him at his lowest. i think all of this says a lot about how they actually feel about each other, underneath the fronts they’ve put up to protect themselves from the pain of realizing they both lost the one person in the world who might’ve truly loved them.

[as a last note: i do actually believe there is a chance for them to reconcile in the game if you keep Tenna in Castle Town. this is a Toby Fox game. the main themes present in his work are love, hope, and forgiveness — that even if you’ve been irreparably changed, even if you can never fully go back to who you used to be, even if you feel completely unloveable, there is still love for you. i think Tenna and Spamton as characters will be relevant to the overall narrative and themes of Deltarune. i do think it’s that deep. Toby is making niche pairings from ten years ago — like Burgerpants/Nice Cream Guy — canon after all this time because it will make people happy. he’s having Fangamer sell Tenna & Spamton plushies as a pair, in cuddly poses. if you think there’s absolutely no hope for their relationship… maybe, just maybe, there will be.]

#if the yaoi were truly toxic then why do they still care so much when by all means they should only hate each other?#sorry i am full of hope and joy and whimsy for a toby fox game . it will happen again #my honest conclusion is that they aren’t truly toxic or doomed. but absolutely tragic #and fuck whoever the benefactor was for forcing them apart and doing what they did to spamton.#man who just wants to reach heaven punished by god instead for daring to love someone enough to share his secrets. god what a character #2021 me would never believe im this obsessed with spamton g spamton #why did he have to get sans-ified #he deserves better than that #thank you if you read this. my mind has been desperately trying to figure their relationship out for 2 months now i can’t get them out #of my head. pls feel free to talk to me i need someone to yell about everything with #tenna #spamton #spamtenna #tenna deltarune #mr tenna #ant tenna #spamton g spamton #spamton deltarune #spamton neo #spamton sweepstakes #deltarune #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune analysis #deltarune meta #i guess?#my posts #toby fox #utdr #ut/dr #nicepants

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yuyuyukiii · 3 days ago

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Two Charms, One Promise ⛐

Summary: Long before the podiums, the titles, and the fame, he was just a boy in a treehouse. She was the girl who promised to stay. She didn’t break that promise. Someone else did it for her.

Content: Childhood heartbreak, missing letters, mistaken goodbyes, unresolved feelings, and one very symbolic bracelet.

Author’s Note 🏎️:

This story is purely fictional and not based on real events. Some timelines, career paths, and personal details have been adjusted or reimagined to fit the narrative. It’s all for the sake of the story, so please don’t take anything here as factual. Just vibes, emotions, and a lot of imagination. Thank you for reading. I hope it makes you feel something 🫶🏻

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The day Y/N moved in, Max Verstappen was already sitting in the treehouse, legs dangling off the edge, half-listening to the wind and trying to ignore the distant sound of car doors slamming. It was unusually noisy for their sleepy neighborhood, which usually had more dogs than people outside at any given hour.

He was up there because Jos had yelled again that morning, something about focus, about wasting time. So Max went where he always went when things got too loud, up in the treehouse, tucked between thick branches and scratched wood that smelled like old pine and dried glue.

Down below, a moving truck pulled up, rattling and coughing, followed by a car that barely rolled to a stop before someone burst out of the backseat. A girl.

She was dragging a suitcase with one hand and waving frantically at someone inside the house with the other. Max was just about to look away when she turned suddenly and looked straight up. Straight at him.

Then she pointed.

A few minutes later, she was standing at the base of the treehouse ladder, squinting up at him through the leaves.

“Hi!” she called, like they’d met before.

Max didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know her. He didn’t talk to new people if he could help it.

“You live here, right?” she asked again.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” she said. “We just moved in.”

He just stared.

“Can I come up?”

That caught him off guard. No one ever asked to come up. Not even the neighbor kids who sometimes wandered too close.

He shrugged. “If you want.”

And that was how it started.

She climbed up with the confidence of someone who had never fallen out of a tree in her life, then plopped down next to him and looked around like she belonged there. Like it was already hers too.

They played cards using a half-broken deck he kept in a tin box. She asked him questions, what grade he was in, how fast his kart was, what he wanted to be when he grew up. She answered all of her own questions without waiting for him to respond.

When she finally left, she said, “I’ll come back tomorrow. You better not lose.”

He didn’t say anything, but when she was gone, he smiled to himself.

And she did come back. Every day after that.

The treehouse became theirs. It wasn’t official, but it didn’t need to be. They carved their initials into the floorboard. They stored candy in a metal lunchbox. They taped leaves and wrappers and even a movie ticket stub to the wall. They shared stories. Secrets. Fears.

Sometimes Max would sit in silence and she would do all the talking, but somehow, she always knew when to stop and just let him exist beside her.

He liked that.

One rainy afternoon, sprawled out on their backs staring at the wooden ceiling, she turned to him and said, “I’m going to be your engineer one day.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Your engineer. I’ll be the one building your car. Telling you what to fix. Then we’ll win everything. You and me.”

Max laughed. Not because it was silly, but because it made something flutter in his chest. “You’re serious?”

“Obviously.”

“What if you work for someone else?”

“No way. I’m loyal,” she said, proudly. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

She held up her pinky. “Promise.”

He curled his pinky around hers. It felt important, like something more than just a joke. Something real.

That night, she gave him a bracelet. It had a single charm on it, her initial. He wore it every day after that. The next day, he added one for himself too.

He didn’t have a name for how he felt about her. He just knew he always wanted to see her first after a win. He wanted her to see how fast he was. He wanted her to stay.

He didn’t know that wanting someone to stay didn’t mean they would.

A few years later, everything fell apart.

Y/N’s parents told her the news over dinner. Her dad was calm, practical. Her mom looked sorry before the words even left her mouth.

“We’re moving to Japan.”

Y/N stared at her plate. “What?”

Her dad sighed. “They need me there. The company’s expanding. It’s a big opportunity.”

Her mom tried to soften the blow. “We leave this weekend. It’s fast, I know, but we didn’t want to worry you unless it was certain.”

Y/N didn’t cry. She just asked, “Can I say goodbye to Max?”

Her parents exchanged a look, then nodded.

They gave her a small box the next morning.

It was a phone.

“So you two can keep in touch,” her mom said gently. “You’ve been friends a long time.”

Y/N packed a smaller box later that night. It had a new charm for Max’s bracelet, a tiny silver steering wheel, and a long letter. She told him everything. She told him she was sorry. She wrote her number, her new address, everything. She told him she’d be back one day, and that he better not forget her.

The morning of their flight, she begged her dad to stop at Max’s house. She was bouncing on her toes, hands fidgeting and heart pounding, as she approached the door. The house looked the same as always, warm and familiar in the sun, but something about it felt heavier today. Her footsteps slowed. After a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked.

A few seconds passed. Then the door creaked open, not to reveal Max, but his father.

Jos Verstappen’s expression immediately soured.

“You again?” he said flatly. “You’re always looking for Max. No wonder he’s been distracted in his races.”

Y/N lowered her head, gripping the small wrapped box tighter. Her voice came out small, but steady.

“I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to Max… just for a while…” Her voice trailed off, then she mumbled under her breath, “For the last time.”

Jos squinted. “What did you say?”

She looked up at him, eyes earnest. “We’re moving. Today, actually. I just wanted to say goodbye, give him this, and… I left my contact info inside, so we can still keep in touch.”

Jos paused. For a brief second, his eyes lit up, but he quickly masked it with a sigh and a feigned frown.

“I’m sorry for being harsh on your friendship, kid,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I only ever wanted the best for Max.”

Y/N nodded, hesitating. “Is he here? Can I see him?”

“He’s out,” Jos said quickly. “Training.”

Her face fell.

“But maybe I can give it to him for you?” he added, extending his hand with a soft smile.

Y/N stared at him, uncertain. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Of course, kid.”

Something about it felt off, but she pushed it down. With a quiet “thank you,” she hugged him gently, placing the gift in his hand.

“Please make sure he gets it. It’s really important.”

Jos nodded. “Safe travels, Y/N. I’ll give it to him right away.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Verstappen.”

She turned and walked away, holding in tears the entire time. Jos watched her until she turned the corner, then let out a quiet chuckle.

“Finally. No more distractions,” he muttered, stepping back inside. He headed straight to his office, opened a drawer, and carelessly tossed in the gift and envelope, unopened, unread. The letter inside, carefully written, held her contact information, a hand-drawn sketch of their favorite memory, and a heartfelt message she stayed up all night to finish. All of it, hidden.

—

Meanwhile, Y/N returned to the car, where her parents were already waiting inside. Her mother glanced up as she approached.

“Did you get to say goodbye to Max, dear?”

She looked down and shook her head. “No. He wasn’t around. But I gave Mr. Verstappen my gift and letter that had everything inside.”

Her parents exchanged a look.

“You’re sure, honey?” her father asked gently. “Why not give it to someone else? Maybe his mom, or a neighbor?”

“It’s okay, Mommy. I had a backup plan.” Y/N smiled proudly. “I left the same letter and gift in our treehouse. Max always goes there after naps.”

Her father gave a relieved laugh and ruffled her hair. “That’s our girl. Smart as ever.”

She beamed.

None of them knew that as soon as Y/N left, Jos made his way to the treehouse. Right after hiding the box she had asked him to give Max, he took everything else, every drawing, every note, every small thing that might remind Max of her, and hid alongside the box.

—

Max stirred awake after his nap, blinking at the time. The sun was already dipping lower in the sky. He sat up, stretching, then smiled. It was that time again. Y/N always came over after lunch, and they’d spend the afternoon at their treehouse, playing games, eating ice cream, making plans that reached far into the future.

He jumped out of bed, got dressed, and rushed over to the L/N residence. But as soon as he arrived, something felt… wrong.

There were no cars in the driveway.

No sound from inside.

No curtains drawn.

He knocked once. Then twice. He called out.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

His knocking turned louder. “Mrs. L/N? Mr. L/N? Hello?”

Still nothing.

A tightness started forming in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. Maybe something happened. Maybe they were just asleep. He began pounding on the door now, calling out Y/N’s name over and over.

Then a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey, kid. Could you calm down a bit?”

Max turned. A neighbor stood on the other side of the fence, frowning.

“Sorry, sir,” Max said quickly. “Do you know where the L/N family is? Are they at the mall or something?”

The man blinked. “The L/Ns? Oh… they left.”

Max’s stomach dropped. “Left?”

“Yeah. Left the country, I heard. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

Max stared at him, stunned. “No… no. That’s not possible.”

“Pretty sure they don’t plan on coming back,” the man added casually before going back inside.

Max stood frozen. For several seconds, everything around him went quiet. Then he took off running.

“No, no, no,” he whispered between breaths, feet pounding against the pavement. “This isn’t real, this isn’t happening.”

He didn’t even notice the tears until he reached the treehouse. He climbed up, desperate. His hands shook as he pulled open the wooden hatch.

Erased. Everything about her had been erased.

The drawings they made together. The little gifts. Their shared journals. Even the photo they kept of the day they built the treehouse, all gone. It looked just like it did before she came into his life, like how it was when Max was the only one using it.

Like she had never been there at all.

Like she wanted him to forget her.

His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, tears pouring freely now. His heart felt like it was splitting open. He curled up and sobbed, flashes of memory overwhelming him.

The first time they met in this treehouse.

How she always stood between him and a group of bullies, tiny but fierce, shouting that they were cowards for picking on someone just because he didn’t have a “nice dad.”

The way she cheered for him after every race, even the bad ones.

The way she always knew what to say to make things better.

The time he was sick and afraid to sleep, scared he would wake up and she’d be gone. She stayed beside him all night, pinky-promising she would never leave him.

“Forever,” she had said.

He pulled his bracelet from his pocket. It was silver and a little scratched, with only two charms so far, one with her initials, and one with his.

They were supposed to fill it together.

Max stared at it, eyes red and swollen. He clenched it tightly in his fist and whispered into the empty air.

“She lied to me.”

Then louder.

“You lied to me.”

His voice cracked.

What he didn’t know was that Jos had lied. Didn’t know the letters existed. Didn’t know Y/N had tried.

All he knew was the pain.

And all he had left was the bracelet.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Y/N sat by the window, fiddling with the little charm on her bracelet. Her fingers kept tracing the edge of the tiny silver star until her mom gently nudged her arm.

“Are you nervous?” her mother asked.

Y/N glanced outside, where clouds floated past the plane wing. “Yeah. I didn’t grow up in Japan. I don’t really know anyone.”

Her mom gave her a soft smile. “Honey, even if you didn’t grow up there, you were born there. And besides,” she added, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, “Yuki will be there.”

Y/N turned her head. “Yuki?”

“Yes. He was your playmate until you two were around five. I was told he’s very excited to see you again.”

Y/N blinked. Her mind scrambled to find a face to match the name. She couldn’t remember much. Just blurry memories of swings, warm afternoons, and someone always running ahead of her.

The thought settled her a little. Not completely, but enough.

Maybe she was nervous because of Max.

What if he was mad at her?

But then again, even if he was, it probably wouldn’t last long. They had phones now. They could talk.

Things would be okay. They had to be.

—

By the time they landed and arrived at their new home in Japan, it was already late afternoon. The street was lined with people, neighbors, family friends, and curious kids with wide eyes. Everyone seemed excited. The warmth in their greetings made Y/N pause. It felt different here. In Belgium, people kept to themselves. Here, it was like the whole street had come to welcome her home.

She stepped out of the car just as someone threw their arms around her.

“Yatta! Omae ga modotte kita! Ore no saisho no tomodachi da!!” (Yay! You're back! My first friend!) the voice shouted with joy.

Y/N blinked in surprise, momentarily frozen. Then she gently returned the hug and pulled back with a polite but confused smile.

“Konnichiwa… tomodachi yo.?” she said cautiously. “Gomen ne, chotto oboete nai no…” (Hello… friend? Sorry, I’m having a hard time remembering…)

The boy laughed, clearly not offended at all. “Is me, Yuki! You… you no remember? We race shopping cart! Down driveway! You crash into mailbox. I laugh so hard, my mama scold me.”

Her eyes widened. “No way. That was you? Oh my god, I thought you were just a dream!”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes yes! You cry, but only little. Then we eat snack. You bring chocolate.”

She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh my god. I thought I dreamed that.”

Yuki pointed at himself proudly. “Not dream. Real! I real! You come back. We bestest friend again, okay?”

They laughed, slipping into conversation like no time had passed. When Yuki stumbled over his next sentence, Y/N gently switched to Japanese. She didn’t want him to struggle. His eyes lit up with relief, and from then on, they spoke easily in their shared language.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be the beeeestest of friends,” he said confidently, bumping her shoulder.

Y/N laughed. “We already are.”

That day, one friendship was rekindled.

And somewhere else, without her even knowing, another was quietly breaking.

—

Time passed quickly after Y/N moved back to Japan.

She and Yuki became inseparable, just like when they were little. Every morning, he would wait outside her house with two juice boxes and a huge smile, waving at her like it had been years since they last saw each other. They did everything together. They walked to school, snuck snacks into class, and raced paper boats in the gutters after a storm. If there was a school activity, a family trip, or even just a lazy afternoon, you could count on them being side by side.

It was like they grew up as twins, bonded not by blood but by something even stronger: timing, trust, and the track. They both loved racing. Yuki would talk endlessly about engines and tires, while Y/N would try to predict strategies like a seasoned engineer. Eventually, she stopped just listening and started helping. They made a perfect team. If Yuki had a karting competition, Y/N would be there by the side, clipboard in hand, shouting feedback louder than anyone else. And if Y/N had something on her mind, Yuki would sense it before she even said a word.

Just like during that first week Y/N was back in Japan, before everything had settled, she couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

(Flashback)

She sat on her bed, bracelet clutched tightly in her palm. It had been days, but her phone stayed silent. Max hadn’t contacted her. Not even once.

Yuki noticed her quiet mood during lunch one afternoon and nudged her with a cookie.

“You look sad. Is school too hard?” he asked, mouth full.

Y/N shook her head.

“Then what?” he pressed. “Tell me. I fix it.”

She looked down at her tray. “I just thought someone would’ve messaged me by now.”

“Who?”

“…My best friend. From Belgium. Max.”

Yuki frowned. “No message? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“A bad friend,” Yuki declared with a pout. “Very bad. He made you cry. You forget him. I be your best friend now. Bestest in the whole wide world.”

Y/N smiled a little at that, leaning her shoulder on his. “Okay. But just so you know… Max is really important to me.”

“I am important now,” Yuki said with a proud nod.

(End)

And he really did try. Over time, Y/N stopped checking her phone so much. She still thought of Max often, especially during races or when the wind reminded her of Belgium, but she let herself grow close to Yuki without guilt. Together, they grew up cheering each other on, yelling advice across karting tracks and making silly bets with ice cream as the prize.

But in Belgium, Max Verstappen’s world had become silent again.

Without Y/N, everything felt dull. He’d always known the sport was hard, but now it felt cold. No one was there to throw their arms around him after a bad race. No one sat next to him on the swing set when the other kids said he was weird. No one brought him mango juice or cheered even when he came in last. He stopped hearing kind words altogether.

Even the treehouse had changed.

The place that once held laughter and secrets now sat in silence. The candy wrappers were gone. The tin lunchbox was empty. The walls, once decorated with stickers and scribbled messages, had faded in the sun. The tree itself started to look different. The leaves grew thinner. The branches drooped. It hadn’t been watered or cared for in years, and it showed. What was once their shared paradise had become Max’s hiding spot when Jos was mad again. It didn’t comfort him the way it used to.

Years passed.

Max’s career began to take off. He was preparing to leave Belgium to chase the big leagues. Teams. Tracks. Pressure. Fame. It was everything he had worked for, but something about it didn’t feel right.

He loaded the last box into the back of the car. Jos slammed the trunk and said, “Ready?”

Max paused. “Wait. I forgot something.”

He jogged back through the overgrown yard and climbed up the creaky steps of the treehouse one last time. Dust danced in the light. The wood groaned under his weight.

He sat down in the same corner he used to sit in as a kid and looked around. His eyes landed on one of the old drawings he had carved into the wall with a pocket knife.

A stickman version of himself stood on a podium, arms raised. Above it, the word champion was scrawled in crooked letters.

Right below it was another tiny stick figure. This one had long hair and was clapping with little stars around her head.

Max reached out and traced the line he had written beneath it.

Max wins the world championship. Y/N is his engineer.

He closed his eyes.

“I really thought we’d do this together,” he whispered.

Then he climbed back down the ladder, looked up at the treehouse, and said softly, “This is it.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Yuki was the first to leave.

It felt strange, the morning he rolled his suitcase to the airport check-in. His usual loud energy was quieter, replaced by a shaky smile and nervous fingers tapping against his hoodie sleeve. Y/N stood beside him, blinking away the weight pressing behind her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he said quickly, voice cracking despite the smile. “You cry, I cry.”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed, poking his arm. “It’s just the weather.”

“Inside the airport?” he teased.

They stood in silence for a second longer before she hugged him tightly. Neither wanted to let go.

“When we see each other again,” Yuki said, stepping back, “we’ll be big names. You, engineer girl genius. Me, fastest driver.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

“But no goodbye,” he added, wagging a finger. “Only see you soon.”

“See you soon, Yuki.”

With one last wave, he disappeared through the crowd.

—

And then… life moved forward.

Y/N buried herself in her studies. She got into one of the best engineering universities in Tokyo. Her days blurred together: late-night lectures, stacks of notes, greasy cafeteria food, and way too much caffeine. There were moments when it felt like too much, but every time she looked at her worn-out bracelet or passed a go-kart track, she remembered why she started.

She graduated near the top of her class, surrounded by cheering classmates and flashing cameras. Not long after, she aced the licensing exams, officially earning the title she had worked so hard for.

Dream one: complete.

She’s finally an engineer. It still feels a little unreal, but it’s hers.

—

Yuki’s first year abroad wasn’t as easy.

At first, he struggled. English was hard, the food was weird, and no one seemed to get his jokes. He missed Japan. Missed the rhythm of his life back home. Missed Y/N’s easy laughter during long karting weekends.

But he worked. Hard.

Every bad qualifying session, every miscommunication with his team, every lonely hotel night, he turned it into fuel. Slowly, the results came. So did the friends. He learned how to express himself even when the words weren’t perfect. He smiled more. Fought harder.

Years later, sitting on a balcony with his helmet on the table beside him, Yuki stared at the headline on his phone:

Tsunoda Confirmed as F1’s Newest Driver.

His hands trembled. He laughed. Then he called Y/N and shouted, “WE DID IT!”

Dream two: complete.

He was in Formula 1.

—

Max, meanwhile, was clawing his way up on his own.

His F3 days were brutal. He was fast, but raw. Emotional. Other drivers whispered. Some avoided him altogether. He was “the kid with too much fire and no brakes.”

But Max didn’t care. Or at least, he told himself he didn’t.

He carried the weight of everything: the expectations, the lonely nights, the dream that once belonged to two people. There were nights when he’d sit by himself after races, staring at the sky, wondering if she’d be proud. Wondering if she remembered.

Eventually, his talent was undeniable.

F1 came calling.

And even then, it wasn’t easy. He was young. Aggressive. Often misunderstood. The media called him reckless. Teammates didn’t always trust him. Older drivers were cold. But Max kept showing up. Kept proving them wrong. Over time, respect followed.

Now, as he stood on the podium once again, the anthem playing, a crowd roaring below, Max looked down at the bracelet tucked beneath his suit cuff.

two charms still dangled from it.

Dream three: ongoing.

He had made it.

But a piece of him still felt unfinished.

Because the one person who promised to be by his side wasn’t there.

Not yet.

—

Y/N couldn’t figure out why she felt so nervous.

She’d been to races before. But this one felt… heavier.

Yuki had pleaded with her to be there for his debut. “Just this once,” he had said. “It would mean everything.” And of course, she said yes. She always did, especially when it came to him.

But the weight in her chest didn’t feel like nerves for Yuki. Not really. It felt like something else. Like someone else. Someone from back then.

Yuki never asked who Max really was. And she never offered more than a first name.

So naturally, he never really talked about Max in F1 either, because in his mind, Max was just someone from her childhood. A classmate. A neighbor. A boy from another lifetime. It never even crossed his mind that they could be the same person.

He never made the connection.

The moment they landed, Yuki was waiting at the gate, practically bouncing in place. He held a piece of paper that said “FOR MY FAVORITE ENGINEER” in giant block letters, with two messy hearts in the corners.

Y/N laughed and ran into him, nearly knocking the sign out of his hands.

“You’re actually here,” he said, hugging her like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I would be.”

He toured her around the hotel, pointing out which floors the team was on, where she could sneak snacks, and who to avoid. Then he dropped the bomb.

“I applied for you,” he said. “To F1’s development program. You got in.”

She blinked. “You did what?”

“You’re gonna be trained and mentored by real engineers, and then you can apply to any team you want. This is the start.”

“Yuki—”

“We promised, remember? I’m racing, and you’re beside me. Always.”

The next day was chaos.

It was race day.

Fans screamed from the grandstands. Teams rushed through the paddock like bees in a hive. Yuki looked impossibly small in his suit, helmet under one arm, but his grin stretched ear to ear.

Y/N stayed just outside the restricted zone, watching him get into the car. He pointed at her once before the lights changed, and then he was off.

She barely noticed the rest.

Until something, someone, brushed past her.

A driver, walking quickly. Suit zipped, helmet gripped tight. She only saw him from behind, the dark racing colors streaked with sponsor patches. She didn’t know why, but her chest suddenly felt tight. Like she should have known him. Like there was something right on the edge of her memory.

But she didn’t see his face.

She didn’t stop him.

He disappeared into the pit lane crowd, swallowed up by noise and motion.

—

Max had already finished the final checks. Helmet under his arm, mind focused, jaw clenched.

But as he made his way through the paddock, something pulled at him. He turned his head slightly, just for a second, eyes scanning the crowd beyond the barricade.

There, a girl.

He couldn’t see her face, only the back of her head, the way her hair caught in the breeze, the way she stood like she belonged but didn’t want to be seen. Her posture. Her stillness.

It wasn’t unusual.

And yet.

Something inside him paused. A flicker of memory he couldn’t name. A dream from long ago.

He stared just long enough for his engineer to call his name again. He blinked it away, shook his head, and kept walking.

Whoever she was, it didn’t matter.

Not today.

END (C.1)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

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makeyoumine69 · 2 days ago

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The Batboys as Husband Material

The boys have grown up and now want to start a family with you.

Jason Todd

Jason is the fiercely loyal husband who would burn the world down for you, but also knows how to braid your hair and will sneak extra marshmallows into your hot cocoa without saying a word.

Will deny being romantic, but leaves you sticky notes on the mirror like: “Don’t forget you’re my favorite person. Even when you hog the blanket.”

Cooking is his love language. He learned your favorite dish just to perfect it. You once woke up at 2 a.m. to the smell of pancakes “because I missed your smile.”

Acts like he’s the tough guy, but he’s a total softie at home—he reads poetry, listens to old jazz records, and has a thing for holding your hand in his sleep.

“I don’t dance, princess,” he says. Then spins you around the living room after two glasses of wine and hums off-key against your neck.

Gets irrationally angry when you’re sick because “if I could take your fever away myself I would, damn it.”

Wears a ring like it’s armor. Never takes it off. Not even when he’s on patrol.

Damian Wayne

Damian is the “acts like he’s annoyed when you’re clingy but secretly loves it” type of husband.

Talks to animals about you. Alfred the cat has heard everything.

Would never say it out loud, but draws little sketches of you in the margins of his notebooks.

Calls you “Beloved” and means it with every ounce of his soul.

Learns your culture, language, traditions—because he wants to honor everything that makes you who you are.

Will fight anyone who makes you cry. But will also sit in total silence holding your hand until you’re ready to talk.

Builds a garden for you, because “you deserve peace in a world that rarely offers it.”

You are his grounding force. His lighthouse. The only softness he ever lets show.

Tim Drake

Tim is the husband who makes you coffee and forgets his own because he’s too busy researching what mattress firmness would help your back pain.

He forgets things like sleep and meals, but never forgets how much he loves you.

Texts you sweet things at 3 a.m. like, “Do you know how extraordinary you are, darling?” and then immediately follows up with a weird astronomy fact.

Schedules “us time” into his packed calendar—because no matter how busy he is, being with you is non-negotiable.

Keeps polaroids of you in his wallet, laptop case, glovebox—one time you found one inside a book labeled “emergency serotonin.”

Loves rainy mornings, soft music, and the way you look in his oversized sweaters.

You once caught him writing a love letter. It was five pages long. In fountain pen.

Dick Grayson

Dick is the husband who brings you coffee in bed every morning just the way you like it, because “starting your day happy is priority one, babe.”

He’s all about forehead kisses, long hugs from behind while you're cooking, and doing random dances in the kitchen just to make you laugh.

Gets stupidly excited about date night—even if it’s just staying in with takeout and a Marvel marathon. He’ll dress up anyway.

Remembers anniversaries, birthdays, and obscure holidays (yes, he will buy you flowers for National Hug Day).

Absolutely melts when he sees you wearing his shirts or hoodies. He’s never getting them back, but he doesn’t mind.

Cries at your wedding. Ugly cries. Has to wipe his tears with the vows he wrote by hand.

Makes you dance in the living room at midnight to 80s love songs, barefoot and in pajamas, because “this is what happiness looks like.”

Thank you for the reading!💓 Please follow my side-blog to know when I update!

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miange1 · 2 days ago

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HE CAN'T FUCK YOU LIKE I CAN.

the blessing. . .᭝ ᨳଓ ՟. . . : best friend x crush male reader

the blessings words. . .𓂋 🪽. . . : toxic mindset , manipulation , gaslighting , breaking someone up , taking advantage of someone's feelings , rough sex , dacryphillia , cheating(kind of not really) , doggy style , dirty talk , reader got a fat ass , asshole referred to as pussy , breeding kink , dumbification

background knowledge of the prayer. . .𓆩 𓂋 𓆪. . . your best friend has had a crush on you since before you even spoke to him. took him forever to get the courage to talk to you in the first place. it was perfect, before your little boyfriend ruined it. but he had the aspects of ruining it.

angels note. . .⁺‧₊˚꒰ა⋆♱⋆໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺. . . : back from my lil hiatus. i never proofread

god, he was guilty for loving the way you cried. you just had to be so pretty, it was to the point he had to put a pillow over his lap as he comforted you. poor you..your boyfriend had cheated on you with some random bitch a whole five states away. you couldn't believe it. your boyfriend was so sweet, cheating on you didn't even seem like something for him to ever do. but he did.

well, sort of— not really. thing was, your boyfriend wasn't here first it was your best friend. i mean anyone would want their place back after someone else took it, that's all he was doing. he didn't want to hurt you completely but this was the only way to do it. the only way that ensured the two of you wouldn't get back together.

your phone kept blowing up. text after text from your boyfriend and his friends, trying to prove that those screenshots were fake! he would never cheat on you not ever. but your friend silence your phone, keeping your head on his chest as you cried. "shh..its gonna be alright." his thumb wiped at your tears, palm holding your face gently.

"don't even worry about him, okay? im here." he would always be there for you, you just needed a push to realize that. "you didn't deserve that, not at all. much too sweet for fuckers like him, no?" his hand slid down, fingers lightly gripping at your waist as a form of possessive action. "ay, look at me okay?" when you did, he was so close to you, nose lightly brushing yours. he was leaning closer though and fuck you were going to push him away. going to tell him the two of you were just friends and only that. mouth opening to tell him to back up but you couldn't. you just needed someone to fill the hole.

literally.

he fucked you like he was proving himself to you. proving ain't nobody else could have you as he did in only five minutes. his hand kept you grounded down, his palm hard against your ass as he thrusted like he was going to war. he winced through his teeth, adams apple bobbing in his throat when he groaned from your tightness. "fuck– fuck, fuck, see how you got me?" wasn't much of a question, he just wanted you to know what you did to him. he stopped moving only for a second, his knee kicking between your thighs just so you can arch deeper.

he started up again, your ass bouncing each time his hips came in contact and clapped at your wet skin. you couldn't speak, only having incoherent words when you tried and slobbered moans. he snickered, lip curling upwards from his ego. "mmm.. coño muy apretado. might snap my dick off." his eyes darted all over your body, watching how your body tried to roll and grind backwards to get him deeper inside.

"yeah, knew you wanted me from the beginning." he huffed through his nose, teeth grinding together. his hand gripped at your hair, pulling you up so you could look back at him. "say it. don't fuckin' deny it, hear me?" you nodded to your best abilities, swallowing your saliva down harshly. he clicked his teeth against the top of his mouth, shaking his head. "you don't listen bebé. say. it." wanted to hear it. you gasped wetly, blinking away any tears only for them to spill out anyway. "wanted— wanted you from the beginning! needed you so bad..'m losin' my mind, don't stop.."

he let go of your hair, your cheek hitting the soft mattress. "there we go. wasn't that hard, now was it?" he tilted his head, like he was curious. "but how would i know that," his palm smacked down at your ass, the cheek already bruised up. "maybe i should get this tight ass filled with my nut– you gon' take it real good and well ain't you." he demanded and you nodded, nodded like you even knew what the fuck he was saying.

—

he knew he was petty, wouldn't admit it. he got what he wanted and had you all cuddled up to him and comfy. his marks were all over you, from neck down to between your thighs. bite marks, bruises, hickeys, even a few scratches. his phone was in his hand, thumb swiping at the photos he took of you sleeping. he scent it on your phone, right to your boyfriend making sure most of those marks were visible.

he fucking giggled when he saw the three frantic bubbles pop up as your boyfriend(ex) typed. he fingers were already quick across the screen.

'damn. consequences of your own actions? 🤷'

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malfoys-demigod · 3 days ago

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Practice Makes Perfect

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ JOHNNY STORM X READER

summary: You’ve been best friends with Johnny Storm for years — the literal embodiment of charm, chaos, and confidence. He flirts with everyone, but lately... something feels different. You're shy, introverted, and secretly harbor a hopeless crush. And you’ve never even been kissed. That is, until one lazy afternoon, Johnny casually offers to fix that.

a/n: got inspo from @djotummy and wanted to try it out!

You’re going to die. Right here, in your own apartment. Because Johnny Storm is sitting next to you, arm slung casually across the back of your couch, grinning like he knows every single thought racing through your head.

And, to be fair, he probably does.

“I still can’t believe it,” Johnny says, voice full of mock horror. “You’ve never been kissed?”

You wince. “Can we not talk about it?”

“C’mon,” he says with a dramatic groan, nudging your knee with his. “That’s not something you just drop and then not expect follow-up questions.”

You try to hide behind your cup of tea, muttering, “It’s not a big deal.”

But to Johnny, everything about you is a big deal.

You’ve been best friends with him for years. You, the shy introvert who reads books at parties, and him, the loud, flirty human torch who could charm the socks off a mannequin. Everyone thinks the dynamic is hilarious — Beauty and the Brain, Fire and Ice. What no one knows is that beneath the calm surface of your quiet little heart is a crush that’s been simmering for ages.

And Johnny? He’s been extra flirty lately. Lingering touches. Calling you “sweetheart” in that low voice. Bringing you coffee just the way you like it, without even asking.

Still, you figured that’s just... Johnny being Johnny.

Until now.

“Alright,” Johnny says suddenly, sitting up straighter. “We’re fixing this.”

Your eyes widen. “Fixing what?”

He leans toward you, eyes twinkling with that dangerous mischief. “You’ve never been kissed. And I’m your best friend. That’s, like, criminal negligence.”

You choke on your tea.

“I—Johnny, I am not kissing you just because I haven’t—”

“I didn’t say that.” He smirks, completely unbothered. “I’m offering to help. Like a public service.”

You glare, cheeks on fire. “That’s not how kisses work!”

“It is when I’m involved,” he says easily, then his voice softens — just a bit. “Hey. I’m kidding. Mostly. I just… I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with you because of it.”

Your eyes dart away.

It’s hard not to feel that way, sometimes. Like you missed some crucial social milestone everyone else passed in high school. Like your quietness makes you unlovable.

But Johnny sees right through you.

“You know,” he says, quieter now, “I always thought it was kind of... sweet. That you haven’t rushed into that stuff. Like you’re waiting for someone who actually matters.”

You blink. “You really think that?”

He nods, the teasing fading. “Yeah. I do.”

There’s a long pause.

The air feels heavy — not uncomfortable, just... full. Like something’s shifted.

And then, in the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard from him, Johnny says:

“Do you want your first kiss to be with someone you trust?”

You look at him. At his eyes, the soft crease between his brows, the way he’s watching you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Your heart beats like a drum.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He moves slowly — giving you every chance to back out. His hand slides across the couch, fingers brushing yours. His other hand comes up, cradling your cheek like you’re made of glass.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

And you nod, because words are impossible.

His lips meet yours — warm, patient, unhurried. He doesn’t rush it. It’s not some fiery, movie-scene moment. It’s better. It’s safe. Sweet. The kind of kiss that says, I’ve wanted this for a long time, but I didn’t want to scare you.

You melt.

When he pulls back, he’s still close enough for your noses to touch.

“That,” he says, eyes sparkling, “was definitely worth the wait.”

You stare at him, breathless. “You’ve thought about it?”

He grins. “Only every time you look at me with those big eyes and then pretend you’re not blushing.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my God—”

“You are so adorable, it’s unfair.”

You peek through your fingers. “So… what now?”

Johnny leans back on the couch, tugging you gently with him until your head rests on his shoulder. He keeps your hand in his.

“Well,” he says, “now I take you on a real date. We make out a lot. And eventually, you fall madly in love with me.”

You scoff, but your smile gives you away. “You’re so confident.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Not confidence, sweetheart. Just a very accurate prediction.”

And somehow, you believe him.

#johnny storm x reader #joseph quinn x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm fanfic #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm fanfiction #fantastic four first steps #johnny storm #joseph quinn #mcu imagine #mcu #mcu x reader #fantastic four x you

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kryptos-aunt · 16 hours ago

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Clark adored you. To him, you were perfect. You were everything. But if he had to pick one flaw, it would be when you got hung up on something, you wouldn’t give up. Usually he’d admire it, the way you sunk your teeth into a story or keep on questioning until you got the questions you needed for your latest article. Only, it wasn’t quite the same when he was on the receiving end.

“You know your magic glasses?” you asked as you lay against Clark’s chest in bed.

“Hmm,” he replied, too engrossed in the article he was reading.

“Your glasses,” you repeated.

“My hypnoglasses?”

“Yeah, your magic glasses. If I wore them would I look different?”

Now that got his attention. He put his book down and sat up, a smirk across his face. ”Why would you want to look different, sweetheart? You’re gorgeous.”

“I know,” you said with a smile, “just wondering if it’d work for me.”

“I mean, no one has tried them on apart from me. They wouldn’t work on me, of course.”

You giggled, “of course, but it would be cool you know. Could get an extra free cookie on free cookie day, get double the free samples, commit crimes-”

Clark shot you a look.

“KIDDING!”

You snuggled back into his side again and he thought the conversation maybe was over for now, your curiosity settled for now at least. How wrong he was.

“OH! If I wore them to the work Halloween contest would I win or would no one recognise my costume? How do they even work? Where did they even come from?”

Clark listened to you rant and ramble. He loved it but it was also getting late and he didn’t have the answers to your questions. “Sweetheart…sleep. Please.”

“But I have too many questions. My brain is too full to sleep.”

Clark shook his head. He picked up his book once more, hoping you’d get the signal to settle down.

“Clark…if you’re glasses are meant to make you look different and less attractive how come I wanted to fuck both you as Clark and you as Superman?”

He sighed, slipping his bookmark into the page he was on. He wasn’t going to be finishing this chapter tonight.

“You know…come to think of it, it’s incredibly creepy you hypnotised me without my consent. That’s just rude.”

“It was for your own protection, can’t have the people I love being put in danger by hanging around with Superman.”

“Wait…so if you wore them in front of ma and pa, would they not recognise you?”

“Well…I’ve never worn them in front of-”

“AND how did you even get them? What are they made of?”

“Sweetheart…where has all this come from?” Clark finally asked, he didn’t mind the curiosity but it was midnight and he knew if you didn’t sleep you’d be cranky in the morning.

“Dunno, just curious.”

“Go to sleep. If you still wanna know I can tell you in the morning.”

You snuggled down further in the bed with him, still snuggled against his chest listening to his steady heartbeat as you closed your eyes. Clark felt your breath even out and he relaxed a little.

Before he could release a breath of his own at you, finally falling asleep your eyes shot open once more. “One more thing…if you look at yourself in the mirror with them, does that mean you don’t recognise yourself?”

He let out a groan…neither of you would be getting much sleep.

#clark kent #david corenswet #superman #superman (2025)#clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fic #clark kent fanfic #clark kent fanfiction #superman 2025 #superman imagine #superman x reader #superman x you #superman fic #superman fanfic #superman fanfiction

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ninisdollie · 1 day ago

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ni-ki and his hyperfemenine gf𓈒ིུ ❤︎

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

Ni-ki is the type of boyfriend that would never admit out loud how much he loves spending time with you. not even if you begged him, not even if you bribed him with kisses and strawberry milk. he loves teasing you acting like you annoy him sooo much, but when you ask him to come hang out with you even if you really don’t have much to do, he comes over immediately.

you could be doing completely different things in the same room, him on your bed, gaming or scrolling through choreography videos, and you sitting on the fluffy rug surrounded by a mess of pink chaos, and he still wouldn’t say it.

but it doesn’t really matter, because you already know. you know from the way he glances up from his phone every other second, just to check on you. from the way he scoots a little closer without realising, until his knee brushes yours. from the way he sighs dramatically when you ask him to pass you another hanger, but still hands it to you perfectly straight because he doesn’t want to wrinkle your things.

you’re organising your shirts again, something he’s seen you do at least once a week. baby pink, bubblegum pink, rose pink, dusty pink, cotton candy pink, each shade delicately folded and arranged in precise little stacks. you hum softly to yourself, and he acts like he’s not listening. but the corners of his mouth twitch when you hit a high note. he’s totally listening. “why do you have, like, ten shirts that look exactly the same?” he asks, lying upside down on your bed now, head dangling off the edge. “I don’t know,” you say, holding up two hangers, a soft smile on your glossed lips. “why do you have thirty chrome hearts boxers that look exactly the same?”

and he just scoffs, rolls his eyes and places a little kiss on your cheek.

and when you turn back around, he’s taken one of your tank tops and carefully folded it for you, all silent and casual but melted inside just for you.

sometimes he just disappears out of nowhere for a few minutes, and you don’t think much about it, maybe he’s in the bathroom or needed something. but then he’s back with his hoodie sleeves pushed up, and one of your tiny ceramic bowls in his hands acting all chill like it’s not a big deal. he walks over casually and sets it beside you on the rug. of course, inside the bowl there’s strawberries and cream. perfectly sliced, perfectly covered like a beautiful dessert. “made a snack.” his voice is dry and uninterested, but you always notice the little blush on his ears while he flops onto your bed again. and ten minutes later when you’re almost done with the strawberries, the corners of your mouth messy with the cream, he just stretches his hand and wipes it off softly before stealing a little kiss.

it’s the little things he does like these, that you love and make you feel like the luckiest girly alive.

and just as it’s always cozy with Ni-ki in the day, it’s even cozier in the nights. it’s almost like when the sun goes down, his focus softens and turns to you fully. It’s just the two of you in your warm little bubble, fairy lights and soft music and pink shadows.

Ni-ki never says it, but he loves watching you get ready for bed.

the moment you open your drawer and hold up two of your silky little nightgowns, decorated with lace and bows and pastel colours, and ask him sweetly “which one should I wear tonight?” his face changes. he pretends yo scroll on his phone or shrug casually from your bed but you notice the corners of his mouth lifting and his gaze getting just a bit darker. but inside, it drives him absolutely insane that you’re standing there, bare-legged, holding up something soft and delicate that’s going to cling to your body in all the right ways. “doesn’t matter.” He mumbles “they’re all the same”

but Ni-ki always chooses one, pointing lazily at the shorter one with laced edges. and he always watches you disappear into the bathroom exhaling through his nose because you’re going to be the death of him one of these days.

when you come back, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen even though he’s trying so hard not to show it. you crawl into bed besides him, your soft skin brushing with his, you see his gaze trailing down your legs. and it’s not just the way you look, Ni-ki doesn’t love you just because of that, but because how you make him feel. you besides him soft and sleepy and safe, your skin against his, the scent of your vanilla lotion, your little giggles at the tv, you cuddled into his chest with one leg thrown over his.

that’s what he really loves. staying over and late and yours.

but even if he’s soft and sweet with you, he can’t really help himself when he kisses you slow like the night outside your window. his lips meet yours with lazy precision, memorizing the taste of you all over again, like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing than sitting here with you in your silky nightgown, bathed in the hazy lamplight of your room. you feel his hands graze your thighs, Ni-ki’s touch is always warm against your skin, as he tugs you gently onto his lap. and there, nestled against his chest with your arms around his neck, it’s easy to melt and to lean into the kiss, to let him part your lips and steal little sighs from the back of your throat. it’s sweet, soft it makes your chest flutter with love and affection even when his touches become a little less innocent.

and when you move a little on his lap, not even thinking, he exhales through his nose, voice low and rough as it brushes your lips:

“baby…” yes, that’s all it takes. he melts, brain gone, only you inside his head and to be fair, it’s only him in yours too.

his hands grow firmer, fingers digging into your hips with barely restrained want. his lips return to yours with more urgency, leaving your head spinning, his mouth sliding messily over yours like he can’t get close enough, and you become needy immediately, because he knows how to do everything with just the right amount of tenderness and filth.

your nightgown rides up bit by bit with each roll of your hips, silky fabric bunching at your waist, and Ni-ki doesn’t stop it, he welcomes it. his hands slip beneath the material, tracing slow patterns over your bare skin, worshipping you with every touch because his little soft princess looks so cute even like this, soft laced panties soaking against the cotton fabric of his sweatpants. and it drives him crazy, you alwayw do. “you don’t even know,” he murmurs against your neck, voice thick and reverent, “how good you look like this.”

his kisses trail lower, messier now, open-mouthed and wet along your jaw, your collarbone, the edge of your shoulder. you feel his teeth graze your skin, a little bite softened immediately by a tender kiss, even when he’s going feral, he’s still gentle.

your sweet boyfriend Ni-ki, doesn’t matter how filthy his mouth gets, how breathless, desperate, or hungry he is for you, he’s always soft underneath it all.

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miley1442111 · 3 days ago

Text

admitting- j.abbot

summary: a fight leads to a confession, and jack abbot finally admits something he wants.

pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! wife! reader

warnings: lowkey just fluff and jack being really traumatised

banners from my good friend @no-144444 !

Jack usually operated under the assumption that you were asleep when he got home on a Saturday morning. Last night had been a fucking mess, a fight with you (if you could call it that) and then straight into work with a cop and a kid dead in the first 3 hours. The rest of the shift evened out, just regular flu victims, or stupid scrapes and cuts. It weighed on him though, made his entire body ache, made his head hurt like his skull was squeezing his brain too hard. He debated getting it checked out at neuro, but ultimately decided a bit of time in bed with you would probably fix it. That was if you let him into bed. Last night had been awful, he’d been called in at the last minute, a terrible crash would be flying in and Shen was already down a nurse and two doctors. He couldn't let him go at it alone, even if he desperately wanted to finally get his long dreamt-of Friday night date.

You added the finishing touches to your makeup as you tried to hide your smile. God, how long had it been since you and Jack had gone out, just you two? 3 months probably, and even then it was your sister’s wedding. You were excited, excited to just have one night where he wasn’t Dr. Abbot and you weren’t Dr. Y/l/n.

He turned the corner into your bedroom, and his crispy white shirt was nowhere to be seen, replaced entirely by the black scrubs he frequented. Your face fell, and a hand cupped your chin as he rested his forehead against yours. “I know,” he breathed out before you could even protest. “I’m sorry.” And that was it, he wasn’t going to say no and stay with you. He was going to go to work like he always did. You knew he was a workaholic, anyone with eyes did, but you hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected this to be so far down on his list of priorities, for you to be so far down.

You nodded solemnly and stepped back, turning back to your vanity and taking the carefully curated bracelet stack off your wrist. He wanted to reach out, promise you he would make it up to you, but you both knew he couldn’t. This happened too regularly to be made up for. “Wow,” there was venom on your tongue, he could hear it. He just hoped he wouldn’t make it worse. You swallowed it down, leveling out your voice. “Alright Jack. Alright.” It wasn’t alright, he knew it, but Shen needed him. Hurt people needed him.

“Shen needs me,” he started, taking another step towards you. You turned to the closet next, stepping out of your dress. He bit his lip, staring as he finally saw the lingerie you’d been hiding from him for this night specifically. Fuck, you were gorgeous. You pulled a hoodie over yourself, discarding your bra in the laundry hamper with the matching lace thong. You opened his drawer and pulled on a pair of his boxers. He thought you looked even more beautiful. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re going to be late,” you stated softly, sitting at your vanity and reaching for your makeup remover. “You’d better go.” He gritted his teeth. You were doing that thing, that thing where you just disconnected from him entirely, and he couldn’t even blame you. You had been so excited, hell, you’d ironed his shirt. You two were only going to dinner and a movie, but you were excited to have one night where you had all his attention, and he wished he could give you that.

“Don’t do that,” he pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as you kept rubbing your makeup off. “Don’t shut me out.” Selfishly, he was desperate for you to just let him go without a fight, let him leave without guilt, but he didn’t deserve that. He deserved to be shouted at, but you’d never do that. You were too sweet, too kind for something like that. Sometimes he wondered what he did in a past life to deserve someone so fucking understanding, especially in those moments when he couldn’t find it in himself to find that same patience for you.

You sighed, tears welling up. You stood and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Be safe,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I love you.” You were barely even whispering, but he heard it still, felt it still. His heart cracked a little, guilt gnawing at his insides as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and nodded. He didn’t deserve to have you, to love you, or have you care for him the way you did.

He left. You stayed. That was just the way it was.

He took one of the prepped meals you made out of the fridge and placed it in the microwave before stepping into the bathroom and stripping down. He left his scrubs in a pile in the corner, he could deal with it later. The water was scalding, just how he liked it. After going months at a time without a shower during his time in the military, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank Benjamin Waddy Maughan for creating hot water heaters. Yes, he’d looked up who’d created them.

His prosthetic was quickly discarded beside the shower. The phantom pain worsened as the weather changed outside. Summer was winding down and soon the cold months would come, it always made it worse. He stepped into the shower. He scrubbed himself down quickly, sitting on the handily built-in bench you’d insisted on. You were always looking out for him, always demanding he take care of himself. He pushed past those thoughts and continued scrubbing, trying to get the scent of the hospital off of himself, trying to get the stench of his guilt off his skin. He was out in the kitchen when the microwave beeped. He ate quickly, reading over the news on his phone as he stood in the kitchen, a towel hanging on his hips. He didn’t bother with the social media apps everyone else liked to busy themselves with, but he had an instagram, mostly to keep up with what you were posting. He checked it as he left his plate in the sink, a story from yesterday. A picture of you and your friend at a market from the day before. God, you looked stunning. He had no idea what you saw in him sometimes.

You walked into the house, looking more than exhausted. You didn’t even acknowledge him, not even noticing his figure, as you walked straight to the couch, and flopped down on it. He stared. Your eyes closed and you curled up into yourself as he’d seen you do a thousand times before, and he stepped closer. His hand ran over your cheek. “You alright?” he asked, voice hoarse and gruff. It’d been a tough shift, you could tell.

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning into his touch. “Shitshow of a night. Jayden called me. Maggie was super sick, I had to rush her over to the emergency room,” You sighed. His brow creased, a silent question. I didn’t see you? You nodded. “She lives on the other side of town.” he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he cradled your head like it was the most fragile thing he could ever hold. It was to him. “You’re a good friend.”

You nodded. “It was crazy,” you groaned. “Still didn’t get rid of my baby fever though.” You chuckled, reaching a hand up and running it through his wet curls. He stilled. Baby fever. He gulped down the panic rising in his chest and cleared his throat.

“You have baby fever?” he questioned, the tips of his ears going a pretty shade of crimson. You let out a soft chuckle and nodded, sitting up. He sat beside you, pulling you into his lap, straddling him. A thousand thoughts at once ran through his mind. He’d dreamed of wild mornings and spilled drinks, he’d dreamed of Saturday afternoon practice and sleepless nights with his very own bundle of light in his arms, but it never happened. It wasn’t in the cards for a man as broken as him, someone as… unworthy as he. Men like him didn’t have families. He’d been told when he was younger, a more fresh-faced Jack Abbot, less able to hold his liquor. He’d told some of his squad that he silently wished for a day where he’d have a family of his own, raise them better than he’d been raised. They’d laughed at him. No one would have a kid with you, let go of that. And army men don’t cry, so he didn’t. His soul wept for him, quietly setting the dream down and sweeping it under the rug, hoping that maybe one day he’d get that chance.

You cupped his jaw, watching him with careful eyes. “Jack? Are you alright?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He nodded softly and pressed his lips to yours gingerly. You kissed him back. He relaxed into it, his hands wrapped around your waist, yours in his hair, uncaring of how wet it was.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he admitted, pulling back from your lips. “I should’ve stayed.” He searched your face, landing on your eyes. He loved your eyes. He loved how he could make you nervous with just eye contact, something so simple. You nodded.

“Thank you for apologising, but the night would’ve been ruined anyway. I was busy playing mom to Maggie.” You shrugged, a finger drawing patterns between the freckles that adorned his chest. You’d admitted before that it was one of your favourite things about him. You just loved them. He couldn’t understand why, but who was he to yuck your yum?

There it was again. The idea that you two could have a kid. You with a little baby in your arms, his baby in your arms. A little human that was made from the two of you. His eyes welled up, but he kept his voice steady. You didn’t notice the tears, too busy drawing on his skin. “You want to have a kid?” he asked, just above a whisper. You smiled.

“You’re not helping my baby fever, y’know,” you finally looked at him again, and your face fell. “Jack, what’s wrong?” A hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it, a stray tear falling down his cheek. You took his other hand in yours, squeezing.

He shook his head, biting his cheek to stop himself from falling apart. “I always wanted a family,” he admitted, pushing through it. Pushing through the fear of rejection, pushing through the voice in his head that told him to shut up. He’d been working with his therapist and you on verbalising what he wanted. He was hyper-independant, and he knew it strained you two a little, so this was a chance to actually let you know what he wanted. “I want that with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Yeah?” you questioned, a surprised smile pulling the corners of your lips up. He nodded silently, anxiety and fear holding all his muscles taught. “I want that too,” you whispered before swallowing his lips with a kiss.

He had it. He had his wife. He had his job. Now, he’d finally get the chance to get what he wanted, a family. A family with you.

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