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sugarverse · 1 month

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𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

word count: 4.8k

dilf!tenya iida x babysitter!reader

warning: dilf! iida, praise!kink, size!kink, pet names, smut like almost immediately, iida is 43 yummy. reader is 22 and in school :) listen headcanons are headcanons if you don't like it, scram 👵🏾🤜🏾

It was almost 8pm on a Wednesday. Not that you minded, but your boss wasn’t the type for such late plans. What could be the reason he’s leaving? Does he have a date? You question, a small frown coming to your face as you packed some things to study over at his house. His daughter was probably one of the coolest 4 year olds you had ever babysat, well mannered and just a world of silly. There would be times you had to remind Ingenium there was still pink paint on his nails, or that he had glitter all over one of his ties because Melody thought “dad needed some fairy magic!”. You knock on the door to their home, fumbling with your rings. It was still very nerve racking to stand in front of such a big house. You weren't used to it, but the pay was something you could get used to.

"Good evening y/n, Sorry I needed you on such short notice. They told me there are some after action reviews that hadn't been updated..." He grumbled, a vein from stress in his forehead as he forced a smile through the annoyance. He pushed his glasses up, shaking his head to himself before pulling out his wallet and counting a few 20s in front of you. He handed it to you with a more sincere smile. “Thank you for always being there when I need you, y/n.”

Before you could answer, you hear a pair of small footsteps running down the hall towards you. “Y/nnnn!!” Melody comes running up to you, fake fries in one hand while a barbie was dragged in the other. She put her arms up to the best of her abilities, offering her fries out to you.

You smile wide at the little girl, quickly folding the money and sliding it into the pocket of your bag and taking the fries. “These look so good! Do you have anything else for me?” The little girl nodded, running away to go find more.

"Take your time, I brought stuff to catch up on while me and Melody hang out!” You begin to set up in the dining room, sliding your shoes off at the door. It was spotless aside from the dollhouse next to the television, there were all kinds of toys hanging around it but what else could you expect?

He let out a deep chuckle before his wrist caught his attention. He huffed, poking around on the new Apple Watch he bought not too long ago. "I'll be back as soon as I can, it's just to refill out reports from lord knows how long ago." He was clearly irritated, mood changing as his daughter came running down the hall once more.

He kneeled down to kiss Melody on the forehead, giving her a big hug. She hugged back, giggling and handing him the fake food as well. “Are you gonna play too?”

He frowned for a moment, shaking his head no. “Daddy has to go to work for a little bit. He'll be right back, But Miss l/n is going to have the best time with you.” He smiled, watching his daughter cheer and hug you next. He stood, wiping his knees off and leaning in to talk to you. “There's money on the table to order anything you're hungry for, I should be back in two hours.” And with that, he left.

It didn't take long for the toddler to get tired, only about an hour in and she was letting you tuck her in. You turned on her nightlight for her, watching stars cover the ceiling from the pillowpet she had. Her room was so colorful, you could just tell he'd do anything for her. It was incredibly sweet. You leave her door cracked upon her request, walking back into the living room to get started on your work. You put your hair up and out of your face, making sure everything was put away before you sat cross-legged in front of the glass coffee table before you.

The main reason you had been babysitting for The Turbo Hero, Ingenium, was to pay off the hell that is college. He paid you almost a thousand a week for watching his daughter. It wasn't like you didn't love her! She was easy to take care of. Never cried a lot, says funny stuff, lets you do her hair instead of running.. But the first reason had always been the money. Now? It might have been seeing her father come home with ruffled hair from combing his hands through it so much throughout the day. Always in such an unresting state, irritated from the world just to come home and be so loving towards his daughter.. and quite frankly, you. There would be times you cooked for him as well as his daughter, those were the nights he said he'd be home by a certain time and couldn't be.. which happened more than once a month. He always repaid you with more than just money, not that it was a big deal. You repeatedly told him it wasn't. But he was raised better than that. Other nights when he'd come home earlier, he'd ask you to stay for dinner. Melody loved when you stayed longer so why wouldn't he?

Maybe he felt the same way I did? You thought to yourself. Who am I kidding, Hes a Pro-Hero, he seems so engrossed with being perfect and keeping an outstanding reputation.. There was no way! He was older anyway, what would he want with his 22 year old babysitter.. You bit the sides of your mouth subconsciously, trying to focus rather than doodling in the margins and thinking of your boss. It was unprofessional. But that still didn't stop you from showing up in shorter clothes, wearing lip gloss from time to time to see if anything in the air changed. A man with money was the dream. But a man with money, a sweet heart, and towers over you? That's a different kind of blessing.

Tenya sat at his desk, groaning quietly as he slid a rough hand over the tip of his cock to cover it in his own precum. It helped the friction and helped him distress.. plus there was hardly time to unwind except in the comfort of his office. It was almost embarrassing. He let out a low groan, bucking his hips into his hand as he threw his head back. Teeth bit harshly on a navy blue tie, letting his mind wander. He had met hundreds of people throughout his life.. but no one as gorgeous.. As heavenly as his babysitter. Now that was embarrassing. The way he'd have to hide his erection when you wear that specific skirt, or the way he couldn't help but stare when your tits were out.

Did you care that he could see? Did you just need someone to put you in your place? He thought about how he wouldn't mind.. bending that pretty little ass over his lap until you'd had trouble sitting for days. Maybe it would knock the common sense right back into that little brain of yours.There was no way you dressed like that by accident. The more he genuinely thought about it, the faster his hand moved.

Shuttering at the thought of you, he shut his eyes tightly. Thinking about the times you wore those too short shorts, Or being bent over to grab the remote that mysteriously fell as soon as he got there and had been ‘too far’ under the couch. Seeing you in those pretty blue panties you wore. It was on fucking purpose wasn't it? God. Why has it taken so long to put it together? He sees the looks you give him but he just thinks its in admiration and he could be confusing it but.. now he's sure that's not all behind your eyes.

He bit harder onto his tie, feeling his cock twitch as he came onto the bottom of his desk. His head began to spin, Having held in that orgasm a bit too long. He gave a small huff as he spit out his tie, looking down at his mess. He groaned, going to clean his mess with a tissue as he tucked himself back into his boxers. He was going to have a talk with you when he came home. He couldn't help bouncing his leg impatiently after cleaning up his mess. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. The little things.. like touching more than his hand to get his attention, touching his thigh to lean over and grab the remote. You had to have known you were being such a tease.. how could he be so blinded to see it.

By the time he was on the way home, You had gotten some studying done… Along with ordering food, washed some clothes for his daughter, emptied the dishwasher, and vacuumed. After counting what he had given you? You felt the extra things were almost necessary. You heard the keys jingle from the other side of the door as the lock finally clicked, watching the door open. And there was Ingenium, disheveled with eyes glossed over from under those sharp square glasses.. Tie already loose and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone.

“I'm sorry I didn't think it'd take..” He started before you cut him off, smiling and starting to close your notebook for school.

“You don't have to apologize, Mr. Ii-..Tenya.” He had corrected you on it before, using first names was fine to make you feel more comfortable around him. It just wasn't often that you needed to say a name at all. You could hear him sliding his shoes off at the door, setting the keys in a bowl. He locked it after him as always, setting his tie against the couch as he undid his sleeve buttons.

"Do you mind staying a bit longer? I need to talk to you." He shined a smile at you as he watched you nod, you had just begun to get up but your butt landed right back in the spot you'd been in. He walked past the couch and to his daughter's room, shutting it slowly so it didn't wake her. He then went across the hall to his own room to change into something comfier than a suit and tie.

It didn't take him long to change into an old white t-shirt, gray and black checkered pajama pants hanging onto his long legs. He walked into the living room, pulling his glasses off and wiping his face with his hand. "Y/n.?" He put his glasses back on to focus on your pretty grin, watching your thighs press themselves together as you sat up to prove he had every ounce of your attention.

"Your clothes are always very.." He huffed, looking up at the ceiling fan before right back at you. In your eyes, this time. "Your clothes are often too short for appropriate attire. It seems like every week or so your clothes get shorter and shorter. Are you trying to get my attention? Because now you have it." He couldn't believe the last few words coming from his mouth. Did he sound like a pervert talking to you like this? He wasn't trying to jump so far. He was just trying to let you know you really do have his attention. It's hard to focus as the day goes on, he thinks about you so much.. he thinks about what you'd say in certain situations, what kinda things you'd like when he stops for lunch. There have been plenty of times where you needed to accompany his pretty girl for the beginning of a field trip and he met in the middle of the day. You both would stay and Melody would have a ball.. He really couldn't stand when you weren't around.

You could feel your face flush, looking down at your outfit and tugging your shirt up slightly to cover your chest better. "I.. I wasn't meaning to- It's just been very.. hot." That had some truth to it but your voice still cracked. Although it was hot, it didn't take away from the fact you were trying to at least see if he was into you. Maybe he's not into-

"Come here, y/n." He stood with his arms crossed, his chest puffed out slightly. His ruby eyes followed your body until you stopped in front of him, watching you nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Do you think I don't notice when you bend over?" He grabbed your jaw with a large calloused hand, attempting to be gentle with firmness to his words. "How you look at me?" He could feel the blood rush to your face, not letting his eyes leave yours at this point. He leaned down a bit, not wanting to tower over and intimidate you too much. He wasn't actually upset. In fact…

"Do you think I could have you?" The Pro-Hero leaned down even more, rubbing his index finger across your bottom lip. He let his thumb and middle finger pucker your lips from gripping your face just a bit harder, feeling you nod in his hand as response.

“p..please..” Was all you really could muster out before he slid his index finger into your mouth. You could hear him mumble some sort of praise, giving your temple a small kiss.

He didn't care about the small whimper you let out, loosening his grip on your face to slide in his middle finger. "Suck, sweetheart.." Letting the pads of his fingertips brush over your tongue sloppily. He watched as you involuntarily drooled all over your chin and his hand. "Good girl. You're so obedient for me already.." Tenya grazed his fingers over your teeth before shoving them deeper into your mouth, seeing you gag a bit with a smirk.

You didn't mind the feeling, staring up at him as he began to stand up straight. He watched your pretty eyes fill with a few tears, starting to gag once again. You could feel him pull the digits from your mouth and replace them with his thumb. He cupped the side of your face and gave you a kiss on the opposite temple. "You're just so gorgeous." You shivered at the thought of him, Letting a few tears spill as you attempted to blink them away before trying to pull away from his hand.

"I.. I wanna kiss.." You spoke quietly, feeling him tap the side of your face with his index finger. He let his 6'5 frame tower over you for a few extra seconds, leaning back down to press his lips against yours. You whimpered into his mouth before wrapping your arms around his neck since you were still having trouble reaching him. He lifted you into his arms, his hands holding your under thighs as he walked towards his bedroom. You slid your tongue into his mouth first, before he followed suit.

You let out soft moans, squeezing him between your legs even tighter. You tried not to bite his tongue, sucking and swirling around it as you felt him sit onto his bed, pulling away only for a moment to leave room for words. "Are you okay with this y/n? Do you want this to go any further?" He cupped your face softly once more, breathing uneven and heavy but you knew by his tone that he meant it. "We can always stop my darling, I'd never wanna make you uncomfortable.."

You nod, scrambling to speak instead so he knew you were for certain. "Yes sir.. I want you.” You gave him a smile, watching as he kissed down your neck. You let out a happy sigh, squirming impatiently. He got the message, stripping your curves of the thin clothing that clung onto you.

His face burned at the sight of you, holding you closer to him by your hips. You could see him twitch inside of his pants, hands going to massage his scalp. He leaned into your touch for a moment, sighing in mostly relief as you slid to your knees and helped him out of his pajamas.

“You're so sweet to me Tenya.. I'm so glad I can finally show you how much it means..” You teased, eyes focused on the navy blue trail with sprinkles of gray led down toward his cock. You started to feel nervous, looking at his length and then back up to his face. which was bright red, his mouth covered by his hand as his glasses hung from the edge of his nose. It sure was a sight to see.

“Look at what you do to me, y/n..” He teased, his cock visibly twitching from the cold air in his home. You stared at him for a moment, feeling your legs press together tightly before sitting up on your knees.

You started closer to the base, licking upward to his tip before trying to fit him into your mouth. He rested a hand behind your head, massaging your scalp as you took as much as you could down your throat. He didn't want to force you, but he couldn't stand not watching you struggle.

You started slow, bobbing your head and using your hand to make up for what couldn't fit in your mouth. He let out a drawn out sigh, head tilted back in enjoyment as he took a fistful of your hair. “You take me so w..well..” He laughed nervously, breathing starting to get uneven as you sped up. he didn't expect it, but gladly enjoyed it. He started shoving your head down gently, not pushing with much force but definitely pushing.

You gag, rushing to move away from his cock before he told your head still. “Breathe- Breathe through your nose, pretty girl. ..That's it. Look up at me, hm?” He pulled your hair, tilting your head back enough that he could see those pretty brown eyes.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, doing as asked. Your head spun from the lack of oxygen, but it was worth it to see him moan and buck at your touch. Especially when he talked so.. properly. And here you were, watching him crumble.

His mind was fuzzy. Thoughts everywhere as he let out noises of pleasure. Rocking his hips against his bed slightly to reach deeper in your throat. Once he reached where he wanted, he let out a sharp gasp. You watched his face contort, shoving your head down roughly as he chased his own orgasm selfishly.

You moved your hands onto his legs, nails digging into muscled thighs as he abused your throat. You shut your eyes tightly, slobbering as gags and gulps came from you. He came quickly after speeding up, letting you go as you pushed away from his length. You cough, swallowing what you could as your tears fell onto the floor. It was a lot more than you thought, but definitely worth it.

Your nose scrunched at the taste, wiping your droll from your bottom lip with the back of your hand. You stared up at him, watching his cock twitch and stay hard even after all that. You whined at the sight, thinking about how sore your jaw is going to be. Before you can continue, he moved to sit up. He wiped the fucked look from his face, “Get on top of me, sweetheart.”

You got up slowly, feeling your legs shaking from sitting on them for so long. You ignored the ache, climbing over him and hovering over him carefully. Your eyes drifted to the detailing in his room, trying not to be too nervous. He held your hips to steady you, kissing your collarbone and leaning in to inhale your scent.

He felt like it was almost addictive, nibbling and leaving small red kisses over your breasts. “Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away and looking up at you. His glasses were still tilted, trying to see you through the little bits he could.

You nod, hiding in his shoulder with a nervous laugh. “It's just a um.. a lot. is all..” You muster out, feeling his tip rub against your slit and against your entrance. He chuckled nervously, rubbing your waist and ass slowly.

“You can do it my pretty girl. Come on, Try..” He pulled away from your chest, looking up at you to let you know how serious he was. If you couldn't do it, he'd stop and just eat you out. He gave you time to get used to it as he pushed in, watching your back arch and you squirm in his arms. He mumbled praises against your skin before bottoming out inside of you.

Your mouth hung open, whining at the friction. “O..Oh fuck- ohmygod..” You dig your nails into his shoulders until you feel comfortable enough to move, moans coming from both of you as you readjusted yourself. He rubbed your back in circles, letting you sit as long as you needed.

“That's it, like that..” He kissed your temple, feeling you slowly raise yourself and lower back onto him. His eyes fluttered, trying to concentrate on you. He hugged your waist tightly, grinding you down against him so your clit was simulated too. After a moment he decided you were moving too slow, bucking his hips up into you. “Come on y/n, Don't give up on me now. You can take it,” He encouraged, watching your face contort with pleasure.

You could feel his skin under your nails as you drug them upwards against his shoulders. It was truly a lot. “I..Im trying sir..” You stutter out, biting your bottom lip and moving faster. He adored how gorgeous you were in his arms, wincing at your sharp nails and practically drooling as he pushed his face into your tits. You could feel his cold glasses smoosh against your skin, tangling manicured hands into his hair and holding him close.

It was definitely more intimate than you imagined, listening to the sounds your body made as you held each other so close. It was different from any other time you had had sex, besides what.. Maybe your first time? It felt nice for someone to be so loving behind it. He looked up at you, leaving small amateur hickeys for someone older than you. He moved his hands down to the curve of your ass, Big hands grip your ass, helping you take it just a bit more by moving into you at the same time. You were almost seeing stars.

“Does that..” He panted out, head moving back slightly so words could escape. “Feel better?” He soaked in your facial expressions, watching you nod slowly and lay your head on his shoulder. He'll take care of you from here, you didn't have to overdo it.

He made sure to stay steady, moving from your tits to stare into your eyes. He listened to your cunt squelch, looking down at your sexes before back at you. Your puffy lips tried to stay locked with his but you couldn't help but be loud. You hid your face into his shoulder to muffle yourself before he pushed you to sit down fully. “Let me see you angel, Just C..Cover your mouth..” He gave your temple another soft kiss, feeling you slowly sit back up to cover your mouth.

Tenya stared at you with lust clouded eyes and a smirk. He groaned, tilting your hips upwards. He began doing all the work to fuck into you, wanting to watch come undone as he abused that poor sensitive spot so you could finally finish. You covered your mouth with both hands, feeling as if the room was spinning as he held onto you. You tried your hardest to stay quiet, thighs already aching from the vast difference between your laps.

You get louder behind your own hands, eyes rolling back as you came hard against his cock. Your body began to shake, laying your head onto his shoulder and staying in his touch. He stayed inside of you, letting out a deep chuckle. He stood with you in his arms slowly, turning to lay you on the bed instead. “Look at that pretty expression.. I knew you'd make such expressive faces..” He held your legs against his chest as he slammed into you once more.

You raised your back off of the mattress, nails gripping onto the soft blue sheets. Your knuckles turned white, moaning into the pillow beside you. He held your ankle with his hand for a moment, kissing your legs softly as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. “Faster– ah sh..shit- harder..” You whine softly, trying to hold him closer with your legs.

Iida was obviously close for a second time, his brow twitching as he concentrated on reaching deeper inside of you. He hugged your legs at your knees and slid your hips up towards his own. He moaned against your soft brown skin, kissing your calf. He began snaking a hand down your thigh, rubbing your clit so the two of you could cum together this time. You shut your eyes tightly, moaning into your hand or into his shoulder whichever was closest when you needed it. He sped up like you asked, watching you squirm under him with a very satisfied look in his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me..” He stopped moving, holding your hips to stay still against his. He lightly touched your clit as he spoke, watching your eyes struggle to look up at him. “I want you to cum, y/n.. Watch you come undone for me..” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly before continuing his movements once more.

He let out low groans and grunts into your skin, hips moving desperately against yours. He stared into your eyes, strong hands keeping your knees pinned to damn near your shoulders. Your hands found their way to his back, tapping it slightly to let him know you were close like he wanted. Shoving his lips against yours, you could feel him slam into that spot before coming to a halt. You could feel him twitch inside of you, earning a whine as you came against his cock as well.

You clung to him as tight as you could, shaking from the stimulation as he slowly pulled your legs down. He chuckled, making sure to be slow when pulling out. “I..” He stuttered, ears turning pink as he stared down at the mess you two had made. “I couldn't help myself.. Apologies..” He said nervously, looking up at your face and holding it in his hands gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He asked with genuine concern. You nodded, arms loosely hanging around his neck. He smiled, kissing your cheek and pulling away to stand. He lifted you into his arms, resting you against his abdomen as he walked down the hall. “Let's get you cleaned up..”

“My thighs are sore..” You mumble from his shoulder, giggling quietly and drawing swirls onto his soft skin. He frowned slightly, turning to kiss your cheek as he stared into the tub. He gave you a quick kiss, turning the hot water on and resting you on the side of the tub.

“I'm sorry– Is that a good thing or bad?” He asked as he searched for towels in the linen closet. Once he found one, he wiped off his fogging glasses and grabbed some soap to pour into the tub. He wanted you to be as relaxed as possible, especially since none of this was planned and normally he is much more gentlemanly about wanting to have sex. Maybe he was overthinking it.

You shook your head no, giggling once more and leaning up to give his arm a kiss. “I prefer to be left that way..” You tease, watching his face turn all pink again. He set his glasses down on the counter next to the towels and continued to make the water juuuuust right.

You spun your legs around, the smell of lavender filled the room. He stopped the water, kissing your temple and rubbing your back. You felt the warmth cover your body, sinking down into the big bathtub. You let your head stay above water, giggling and watching him get in as well.

This was something you could get used to.

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the bomb ass art boarders! will def be using them more :)

and thank you @fizziedoodle for the moodboard !!

531 notes · View notes

idyllcy · 1 year

Text

sparkling green eyes, dazzling green lines

word count: 8.8k

summary: "Habibti." The words slip past his tongue naturally as he reads the text on your wrist, and you stare up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, fascination all over your face— you're in love with him.

حبيبتي.

You trace it on your skin each morning, gentle smile on your face, dumb like a lovesick idiot. It reminds you that you're loved, even if you have never met your soulmate, ever, in your life. Even when you didn't know, you had panicked and asked your friends if they knew what it was, in which the next seven hours after your seventh birthday was spent crowded around a computer on your iPad, trying to imitate the foreign language on your skin.

After seven hours, your mother, bless her, had noted it was in Arabic. Your father returned home shortly after, helping you translate the word.

Habibti. It meant beloved in Arabic.

Your young heart swelled as your friends gushed over it.

Beloved. Your soulmate calls you beloved at first meeting.

You had clung onto it, heart full and spinning. You told yourself that your soulmate must be a romantic just from the fact that he would call you his love first meeting. You had dreams of a fairy tale meeting, falling in front of him in the hallway during school, accidentally bumping into him while out, a stranger offering you an umbrella in the rain, the list goes on. Your friends had gotten tired of you after the second week, all of them off to find their own soulmates. You didn't know anything about him.

But the passion for finding your soulmate wears off just as fast as it had arrived, quickly realizing that you wouldn't be able to find him if you were in a town where you knew everyone. No one would call you that upon first meeting. Even if it was halfway across the world, you stopped dreaming about meeting your soulmate after you started college. If you wanted to meet him, you'd have to travel. You don't know where, but wherever you were allowed, you went. Even if it emptied your pockets and left you desperate in the streets, you had some of the best experiences of your life, all in the name of looking for your soulmate.

Even at graduation, when you're throwing your cap into the sky with your friends, wrist out for the world to see, the characters traced and colored in gold thanks to your friends, the green of the letters shimmering, you're thankful for everything you've poured your soul into. Your soulmate was someone you no longer craved, the world at your fingertips, a job in your pocket, your life set out before you. Fate was strong in your hands, another string in your life. You followed it with fervor, spinning and chasing after it with some childish will in your life.

You push everything related to your soulmate mark back when you step foot into Wayne Enterprises, nodding slowly at the three men as they welcome you to the team. You had expected the older boys, but you didn't complain. Not when Bruce Wayne himself was part of the three men.

"These are my two sons. Tim Drake, he's my third," You shake Tim's hand. "And Damian Wayne. My youngest."

You smile at him too, taking his hand.

"Habibti." The words slip past his tongue naturally as he reads the text on your wrist, and you stare up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, fascination all over your face. Damian raises a brow at the way you react, breath catching in his throat at how enthralled you are with him, features pulled back, eyes sparkling.

"Woah." You manage, a smile breaking onto your face as the words slip past. Damian does not know you. Hell, he's just met you, yet you were staring at him as if he was your world. You had that lovesick look that he had seen on Dick's face way too many times, and he was getting a little uncomfortable. It must be some sick joke. There's no way his soulmate could look at him like that the first time they meet. Yet, as you stare into his eyes, sun sparkling in your eyes, he finds himself breathless. Shit.

Bruce clears his throat behind the two of you.

"Sorry!" You let go of Damian's hand, the loss of contact knocking the air back into his lungs. "Not many people can read my soulmate mark here in the States. I was just surprised."

"So? Is he your soulmate?" Bruce's lip quirks upward.

Damian lies through his teeth. "No. My words are different."

Tim raises a brow behind Bruce, and Damian gives him a warning look.

"Well, regardless," Bruce hums. "You'll be working closely with my two sons for the next couple of weeks. We're very interested in the medical research you conducted while an undergrad in your major, so we'd like to sponsor your research. Your updates would go to my two sons, and I'll meet with you at the end of the month to see if you need more time."

You nod. "An honor, sir."

"The honor is all ours." Tim smiles, shaking your hand.

"Damian will lead you to the lab."

You follow behind his youngest, eyes still wide, trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy. Even if he wasn't your soulmate, he had called you beloved first meeting. You were enthralled. The two of you step into the elevator, and you wait for the door to close before speaking up.

"Are we really not soulmates?" You blink at him.

He shows you his wrist, your words in brown. "We are."

"Oh." You smile at him again. Damian grimaces at how bright you are. The universe sent him a sun because he was grouchy, didn't it?

"This is the lab you'll be using. It is all yours." He hums. "Requests can be sent through the computer, just type it on the notepad."

You nod, glancing around the room, fidgeting.

"What is it?" He raises a brow.

"You're not big on soulmates, are you?" You smile apologetically.

"Not really."

"Alright. Thank you."

Damian is half expecting you to pester him to the moon and back just based on how you looked at him the first time you met. Instead, you spend most of your time holed up in the lab, desperate to replicate results from your previous study. He can't deny that his heart sours a little at how easily you respect his boundaries, but he asked for it himself, so he finds no reason to complain. Huh, he would have to register the soulmate mark with you.

He knocks on the door to your lab, silence answering him. After a couple of minutes, you open the door.

"Sorry, did I make you wait? I had to put everything back." You blink at him.

"We need to register our soulmate bond."

"Ah. Right." You furrow your brows. "When are you available?"

"Tomorrow after work."

"So like... three?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Should I meet you up at the office?"

"I will come down to find you." He glances at the way none of your hair is visible from the cap.

"Alright." You hum. "See you then."

Damian is grasping at anything he can to try and talk to you. He can't believe he's like this, lovesick like some teenager, desperate to talk to you as if you were the only person that mattered in his life. He feels like Dick. It's awful. He loosens his tie as he stands on the elevator, irritation all over his face.

"You look like shit." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Be quiet, Drake." Damian grumbles.

"Registering your soulmate bond?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. "How did your registration go?"

"Smoothly. I told you."

"If only we had met under better circumstances."

"My soulmate didn't stare at me like I was God." Tim shrugs. "Good afternoon, Mr. Strawn."

The man nods.

The two men shut up as Damian steps off at your floor.

"Hey!" You've taken off all the clothes you wear in the lab, dressed for a date. Damian wonders if he's dressed too formal for this. "I brought all my documents. Do you have yours?"

"The city hall has all of my files on hand."

"Forgot, billionaire and all that." You laugh. "Let's get going."

The two of you hitch the next ride down, Damian taking you to his car, opening your door for you, head racing.

"There is always the possibility of us being platonic soulmates." Damian finds himself speaking up as he fastens his seatbelt.

"Yeah." You purse your lips to think. "Would you be alright with that?"

"We are soulmates. The universe obviously has something planned."

"Then what if we're romantic soulmates?"

"Then I suppose we would have to try." Damian pulls out of the parking garage, handing the guard his ticket, driving off. "Are you against it?"

"Oh, definitely not." You smile. "There is no downside for me."

"Not even the public's eye?"

"I've been scrutinized by my family my whole life." You smile. "I blew all my excess scholarship money on travelling because I wanted to meet my soulmate."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to Palestine, Israel, dropped by at Dubai, Egypt, and then my friends and I drove from Istanbul all the way to Western Europe." You count on your fingers. "I had a lot of people greet us first and then notice the writing on my wrist. The emerald green really stands out. I hadn't expected..." Your voice trails off, eyes staring into his, Damian unable to stare back because of the road. "I hadn't expected your eyes to match so nicely. They're breathtaking."

"Do you speak to everyone like this?"

"No." You hum, looking back outside your window. "But I have been told I have a way with words."

"Yeah?" He stops at the red light, turning to stare at your eyes. "I wonder what your eyes look like under the sun."

"Weren't you staring at them a couple days ago?" You pull out your phone.

"That wasn't directly under the sun." He mumbles, starting the car again.

"Do you speak to everyone like this?"

"No." He breathes. "Just to you."

You try to fight the warmth spreading up your neck to your cheeks, failing miserably as you resort to hiding your face in your hand for the rest of the ride.

"Is there any specific thing we need to do?"

"My brothers mentioned that we need our words scanned, but that was it." He hums. "You have your passport and license, correct?"

"Yeah." You hum. "Is that all I need?"

"Yes." He grabs a ticket and drives down to park, the two of you getting out of his car. "Come on." He leads the way, eyes pining down the paparazzi immediately. You glance in the direction he glared, only for him to move to block you from their view. The two of you make it into the building quicker, the elevator door closing behind the two of you.

"That was?"

"Paparazzi." He fishes out his phone, making a call." Yes. May we head up immediately? We will be there."

You blink as he presses the top floor, and for a second, you understand what it's like to live as a billionaire. A single phone call puts you at priority. You shift uncomfortably when the two of you arrive at the top floor, following Damian as he steps into the mayor's room, letting you sit down first.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne." He smiles, and you detect the lack of sincerity on his face immediately. Rather, the fake smile causes you to sit straighter, a smile lacking equal truth making its way onto your face. Damian shakes the mayor's hand, sitting down as well. "What brings you here?"

"Brought my soulmate to get our mark registered." He hums. "You have all my documents, so this should be quick, correct?"

"Of course. We just need both of your words scanned, and then the soulmate's legal documents — You're quite pretty."

You smile at him, laughing lightly. "Thank you. Here's the passport."

"Not a Gotham born, eh?"

"Nope. Moved here for work."

"Do you plan on staying?"

"Well, since my soulmate is here, I don't think moving is that big of a priority right now." You hum.

"May we have your wrist?"

You hold your wrist out, scanner registering the words, and Damian does the same, your words both popping up on the screen.

"What are the characters?"

"Arabic." Your smile turns sweet, bright, even, and the words come tumbling past your lips, like you had been proud to have those as your words your whole life, holding them dear to your heart. Damian's heart stutters in his chest at how enamored you look.

"Was the "woah" first or second?" The mayor turns to ask Damian.

"After. I had read the characters, and the only reaction I was given was "Woah."" Damian hums. "Are we finished?"

"Yes." The mayor laughs. "It's very much a romantic soulmate. Have the two of you..?"

"Not yet." Damian hums, standing up, holding his hand out for you. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor."

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Wayne. I hope to see the both of you at the Wayne gala later this year."

Damian leads you back to the elevator, music filling the air as the two of you stand there in silence.

"When would you like our first date to be?" Damian steps to the side, turning to look at you.

"Oh, um." You frown. "I'm not sure. I'd go, but I already submitted my leave for the weekend. My friend and her soulmate are getting married."

Damian raises a brow. "Not here?"

"They're getting married in the Maldives." You laugh awkwardly. "Her soulmate is loaded."

"More than me?" Damian raises a brow playfully.

"Well, loaded in the millionaire way." You smile. "Not billionaire."

"Do you have a date? Should I go with you?"

"Oh." You pause. "I could bring you, huh?" You press your fingers to your lips, pursing them. "I put down a plus one because I was expecting to bring another friend... I suppose it could be you."

"Did you put down a name?"

"No. They do not have a seating chart."

"Mm." He pauses. "is it too fast?"

"No, no!" You smile. "I'll send you the details... via email?" You grimace at how strange it sounds.

"May I have your phone? I can give you my number."

"Yes." You fish it out for him as he hands you his phone. You type your name in, typing habibti under company. You text yourself as he does with himself. The two of you trade phones back, and you send Damian the packing list and details of the wedding immediately. Damian scrolls through the list, pausing.

"Is there a specific invitation I am required to bring?"

"I have both. I will bring them." You smile. "Any other questions?"

The elevator stops at parking, and Damian leads you out. You make a beeline for the car this time, texting your friend to confirm the guest you would be bringing. She asks you if it's your soulmate, and you tell her to check the Gotham Gazette in the morning. She sends you a flurry of texts.

"Will our soulmate bond get leaked?"

"Perhaps by the paparazzi. Why?"

"I'd like for it to be a good photo of me."

"I will let my publicist know."

You check the news the next morning, beaming at how good you look in the photo. Damian looks protective of you, and as you rush to your lab in the morning, your heart is warm. You're glad he has a good eye for that, at the very least. The groupchat explodes with people looking for you, asking if it was true your soulmate was Damian, your friend private texting you to check if your guest was Damian. You only respond to your friend, confirming his attendance. She tells you she expects an expensive gift out of you, and you snort. You joke about relaying her message to Damian.

You tuck everything away as you get back to your experiment.

The end of the day comes quickly, and as you close the lab for the night, you blink when you stare at Damian at the door. You click on your phone, checking to see if you had missed any messages from him, but nothing appears. You raise a brow as you open the door with all of your stuff. "Something wrong, Mr. Wayne?"

"Damian is fine." He nods. "I was wondering what I should bring for your friend's wedding."

"Mm," You frown. "I was going to bring her a nice bottle of wine from one of my travels, but I'm sure you have something much better than that in the winehouse at your place."

"We do. We have a screaming eagle cabernet from the 90s."

"Woah." You blink. "That sounds like a lot. Isn't that like 500k?"

"We have multiple bottles." He insists. "I can bring one."

You grimace. "If you insist."

"It can be our gift. From the both of us."

"The tabloids have already started calling me a gold digger." You laugh.

"My publicist will take care of that. I will have father get you one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He hums. "Where do you live? I can drive you home."

"Um." You give him your address. It takes him a moment to figure out where you live, and then the two of you are off.

"I will send someone for you tomorrow," He hums. "We can take the private jet. I already got your tickets refunded."

"Oh. Wow." You blink at him in awe. "That's really kind. Thank you."

"No worries." He hums. "You should get used to it."

"Do all your brothers spoil their soulmates like that?"

"Grayson, the eldest," Damian grumbles. "worships the ground his soulmate steps on. Todd does the same, though less obvious about it. Drake's known his soulmate forever so the two of them click too well. Duke and his soulmate are platonic soulmates, but the two of them get along far better than we do as a family. Steph and Cass both have not found their soulmates and father..." he pauses. "father and his soulmate are... an interesting two."

"So your family all spoil their soulmates?"

"There is nothing out of reach with the amount of money we have. It is not spoiling if we are simply letting them get whatever they want because it is not a burden on us financially." Damian takes a turn. "We do not consider it spoiling."

"That's sweet." You smile. "How big were their rings?"

"Grayson's soulmate got the biggest diamond in existence. None of us could believe our eyes." Damian hums. "How big of a diamond would you want?"

"I'd like you to hand make a ring for me." You grin. "Of course, if you don't have time, I want something the color of your eyes to match my soulmate mark."

"Why not both?" He stops at the door to your apartment.

"How about you?" You open the door, tilting your head at him.

"Whatever color your eyes are."

You hate how good he is with his words.

Damian drives home, your words in the back of his mind. A handmade ring. Maybe you'd be willing to wear his name on your skin if he makes you a ring with a gem the color of his eye. Though, he'd be rushing. Even if his skin burned to touch you and his heart raced to be held by you, he did not wish to rush it. Messing up with you was far scarier than getting hurt during patrol.

He texts the family chat that he would be using the jet the next day, to which Dick had asked eagerly where he was going. Damian leaves him on read. He finds you at the door in the morning the next day, taking your suitcase from you as you yawn.

"Did you have breakfast yet?"

You blink at him, rubbing your eyes. "No. Do you have food?"

"You can have some of Grayson's cereal."

You blink harder as he hands you a bowl with the cereal and milk, and you stare at the cereal brand.

"Wow. The amount of sugar in this could kill someone."

"Some days I wish it were enough to kill Grayson."

You pour out a little bit of the cereal, pouring the milk in, and then dig in. You read the ingredients as Damian goes upstairs, pulling his own luggage down the stairs, meeting you back in the kitchen when you finish. You clean the dishes, setting them to the side as Damian comes to get you.

"You did not need to wash the dishes."

"I didn't want to leave a mess." You reason.

"It's fine. We're leaving now. You ready?"

"Yeah." You grin. "Is takeoff rough?"

"It's very smooth." He hums. "I gave the pilot the address and everything already. We land in around three hours."

"Alright." You hum.

The jet, plane, was huge. You blink in surprise at the size as Damian leads you up the steps, and you blink quietly. "Woah."

"Surprised?"

"What's the use of having such a large plane? Isn't the carbon footprint huge?"

"We usually fly first class, but I figured since your friends all wanted to see what kind of a person you were dating, I shouldn't be stingy." Damian hums.

"There's really no need." You laugh.

"Also, more privacy." He hums. "I figured you deserve to know what kind of life I live outside of the tabloids."

You tilt your head at him. "Are you going to tell me you're Batman or something?"

The plane door shuts behind him, and he exhales.

"Robin."

Your eyes widen, lips pursing, surprise on your face.

"Is that too much too quick?"

"No." You pause. "No. That's. That's actually kind of hot."

Damian raises a brow.

"Are you still Robin? Because I think—"

"No," Damian shakes his head. "I run around with another name now, already graduated from the title, but I thought I would tell you since."

"Yeah." You exhale. "What about the weekend?"

"Todd and Drake are here. There is no need to fret."

"So your whole family is in on the business?"

"Yes."

"Wow." You mumble. "That's..."

Damian braces himself for the worst. He doesn't know why, your face is far from disgusted or terrified, but he still does. Maybe you would reject him or tell him to stop. That would be a nightmare.

"And you like doing it?"

"Yes." He raises a brow.

"Um, please don't come back to me dead. Ever. Please." You scratch your cheek. "If you like doing it, then I won't stop you. I'd just prefer you don't die on the job."

"Do not worry. If I were to die, my mother would simply drop me into the Lazarus pit." Damian jokes.

"That's some lore drop there." You blink. "That's real?"

"Yes." He raises a brow. "For the same reason my grandfather is immortal, by the same logic, so would I."

"Woah." You mumble. "I heard rumors of it when I was travelling. I didn't know it existed."

"Fountain of youth."

"Is that why you look so good?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that." You smile.

"And you?"

"I told you I travel." You nod. "Oh, it might be good to tell you about the friend getting married."

You tell him details about how the two of you met, telling him about your other friends at the same time, mumbling about how you thought her soulmate was actually an asshole just from the way he treated her friends, and then casually mentioning his name, Damian blinking.

"Do you know him?"

"Drake has done business with his family before."

"His family's a nightmare. The only reason I'm going is because my friend is an angel. I wouldn't go for any other reason."

Damian finds peace in the way your voice floods his senses, gathering intel on your friends, understanding who he had to avoid and who he could make small talk with. He had a feeling he'd know a couple of the people there from the groom's side, and from the way you talked about him, it wouldn't be pleasant if they found out he was your soulmate. Despite that, he finds that there is no need to worry too much. You were close to the bride's side. That's all that seemed to matter to you. You pause at some point, almost as if you were thinking of something.

"Something wrong?"

"We brought the wine, right?"

"Yes. I had the servants bring it."

"Alright." You mumble. "I'm not looking forward to what the groom has to say to me about you."

"I will stay next to you the whole time. My publicist will deal with everything."

"Speaking of which, who is your publicist?"

Damian smiles. "Grayson's soulmate."

"Ahhh." You laugh. That checks out.

There's not much jetlag when the two of you land, and you stare at the afternoon sun through your shades, hand held up. It's nice and warm, a contrast to the spring weather in Gotham. Damian leads you to the car, making a call as he does, handing you the tablet for you to choose which suite to get upgraded to.

"Are we sharing a bed?" You blink at him.

"We can order a room with two beds if you'd like."

"Would that be rude?"

"Not at all."

Damian finds that you've selected a room with a king bed instead, noticing the way your ears were flushed as you stared out the window. He confirms with the hotel on the call, putting the charge on his father's card. He wondered if you would call this spoiling. His brothers had told him that his soulmate deserved the best treatment, and Damian couldn't really tell what they had meant. He never lived a normal life. He wasn't sure if his normal was their best or if there was something better that he could give them. He opts for staring at your face instead, taking in your features.

"The upgrade." He swallows. "It is alright, right?"

"Yes." You smile at him. "It's more than okay. Thank you, a lot."

"The best, for you." He mumbles.

The two of you settle into the hotel room. Damian glances at the clothes you bring, exhaling quietly to himself when he realizes he brought a decent palette of clothes. The wedding's theme was lavender, and he was starting to get worried that he wouldn't be able to match with you at all, but he's happy to find that you've got colors similar to his.

"Do I need to call you anything?"

"It'd be funny if you call me habibti," You grin. "The bride is a friend from when I first got my soulmate mark. She was there when we tried searching up what the word on my wrist meant."

"Ah. You go back a long time."

"A very long time." You smile. "What was it like for you? Seeing your soulmate mark?"

"My family was in my room at midnight, including my mother, and everyone groaned when I got the most generic word ever. They thought I would never find my soulmate. Todd joked that my soulmate must be blown away by my face." He hums in amusement, noticing you avert your gaze. "I still owe him twenty. Dick's soulmate word was "hello" and only Drake had something remotely entertaining."

"What was it? If you don't mind me asking." You blink at him.

"I quote "We should get married." It was quite the sentence." Damian chuckles.

"That sounds funny." Your lips pull up into a smile. "I had a friend get "we should fuck" as their first sentence. Then I found out my best friend at the time had "Yo." as theirs."

"Did you like your first line?"

"I did." You beam at him, unclasping the clip for your suitcase. "I loved it. When my father told me it meant darling or my love in Arabic, I was elated. I thought my soulmate would be the most romantic man in the world, and I was ecstatic."

"Am I?" Damian raises a brow as you pull out a dress.

"Yes." Your smile stretches impossibly wider. "I'm very happy."

"I'm happy to hear that. What's the dress code for tonight?"

"You brought a polo, right? Rich boy, old money vibes. Polo shirt and khakis."

"Got it." He nods. "What color will you be wearing?"

"Everything I brought is some variation of the color palette for the wedding," You hum. "I'll be wearing this."

"I am sure you'll look dashing in it, habibti." He smiles.

You flush at the word, hiding your face in your dress.

"Is it too much?"

"No." You smile at him. "Just enough. I'll get used to it."

Damian wonders what kind of friends you had at seven. Yet, he finds himself blinking in surprise when the two of you arrive at the event.

"Woah, he's an item..." Your friend's jaw drops, patting your shoulders gently. "Damian Wayne? Pleasure to meet you. I'm your soulmate's best friend."

"No, I am." Another friend butts in.

"You're all wrong." The bride scoffs playfully. "I am."

Damian nods at them.

"We'll bring the gift tomorrow at the wedding." You smile at the bride, rushing off with them as Damian heads over to the side, making small talk with who he assumed the groom was. He finds himself with his eyes on you the whole night, only sparing glances at the people he was talking to when you would stare back at him. You look pretty. He understands why his brothers had clicked with their soulmates so quickly now. He excuses himself at some point, pressing his chest to your back, hand resting on your waist.

"Having fun? That's your second margarita, not to mention your cocktails."

You grin at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "It's actually my fourth."

"I think that is enough." He hums. "There's still a dinner."

"I can hold my alcohol." You mumble, and Damian takes the glass from your hand, downing the whole thing in one gulp. You blink at him, wide-eyed. "Woah."

"Let's get you seated, hm? Dinner starts soon. Cocktail hour is for after the dinner."

"Can I bring a drink to our room later?" You mumble.

"Yes." He excuses the two of you from the bride, settling down where your names were put, and he presses a patch into your skin, rubbing your arm as he waits for the neutralizer to course through your system. He probably should have asked if you were okay with it, but he has one on himself, so it's not like he was actively trying to drug you. You turn your head when you notice him rubbing the patch onto your skin, mind clearing a little.

"What is that?"

"Neutralizer. It helps with filtering alcohol."

"Oh, it works." You grin at him. "Thank you."

"Of course. I have one in my arm too."

"That sure explains why you didn't pass out from the sheer glasses of champagne you were having." You mumble.

"Who's at our table?"

"Two other girls and their soulmates. The two girls that were next to the bride and I earlier."

"Alright." He hums, letting his hand fall down to your side, staring at you as you wave your friends over. "Any exes?"

"Nope. I didn't date anyone that didn't greet me with what was on my wrist. It was pretty easy, considering that most people are ignorant. I also kept a bracelet around my wrist for the most part." You smile. "You?"

"Two. Maybe. I do not know if they count. I hooked up with them while..."

"In costume?"

"yeah."

You shrug, starting a conversation with your friend instead, catching up with her. Damian listens briefly, eyes focused on you instead, enamored with you. He's hopeless, he decides. He has no saving grace from you. He doesn't get to make fun of his brothers anymore, not when he was just like them. Your friends take notice of it, smiling when he notices their gaze. You're loved. Just from the way your friends had smiled at him and then at you, you're loved. He understands why. It'd be hard not to love you.

You excuse yourself early, exhaustion from the plane setting in late, Damian helping you up and leading the two of you back. You let the bride know with a hand on her back, and she shoos you away playfully, mumbling about how you should use protection. You sigh dramatically, telling her you'd make her an aunt on purpose. It was a joke from the way you had said it, but Damian wonders if you'd actually want kids of your own — shit, his brain was moving fast. He barely knows you.

"Were you actually tired?"

"Any longer and you would've seen how embarrassing my friends get when drunk." You mumble. "Embarassing bunch."

"How embarrassing?" He raises a brow. "My brothers are a nightmare when drunk as well."

"They won't shut up." You press your keycard on the lock. "About me."

"They love you a lot."

"They do." You turn to smile at Damian. "And I love them too, even if they don't shut up about my embarrassing stories when drunk. They're probably embarrassing the bride instead though."

"That would make more sense."

"They kept trying to get people to read the writing on my wrist last time." You hum. "That was after grad."

"So recently."

"Yeah. No one was able to read it." You laugh. "And the ones who could, they didn't say it to me. They called my friends habibti."

"You do not say it with an accent." Damian notices. "Habibti."

"Huh?" You pause while rummaging for your sleepwear. "Oh, yeah. I... my parents got me an Arabic teacher for a little while because I wanted to learn when I first got my mark. I've also visited... a lot of the countries? In part it's because I'd repeat the word to myself until I feel asleep until like..." You avert your gaze, going back to your suitcase. Damian notices you start flushing. "end of high school?"

"Ten years?" Damian exhales. "You whispered your word to yourself before bed for ten years?"

"Yeah." You finally find your pajamas in the baggage. "A little bit of a hopeless romantic, huh?"

Damian doesn't answer you, staring into your eyes instead, unmoving, barely blinking.

"Is it that bad?"

Damian breaks from his trance. "No. Not at all. It's..." endearing — but he can't say that, so he offers you a nod instead. He curses himself for the lack of game when it came to you, but as you rush to change in the bathroom, he sighs. It's hopeless. He's enamored. He understands why you had stared up at him with your pupils blown wide and lips parted upon first meeting. He does the same now, staring down at you like you were his everything, even if he knew barely anything about you outside of what you had told him. Well, he could always ask Drake to hack and gather intel on you. But it'd be a breach of privacy that he didn't want to cross with you. Ugh.

He pushes his hair back in frustration, opting for clearing his mind with work instead. Even if he had taken the weekend off with you, he should really do something that isn't thinking of all the ways he'd have your skin pressed to his at night — no, fuck. Damian opens his laptop, clicks on his VPN and the wifi, sorting through the emails from the WE teams instead. He barely notices the sound of the bathroom door opening and you step out with your sleepwear on. At some point, Tim texts him to get off his emails and enjoy the time with you, threatening to bench him. Damian grimaces, wondering how he could get benched in a company situation, but he doesn't argue back. He was trying to avoid talking to you, after all.

You're in bed on your phone, scrolling through something.

"What are you looking at?" Damian settles on his side of the bed.

"I'm watching my friend's wedding tiktoks." You smile, rolling over to show him. "The preparation ones. She's going to make more tomorrow."

Damian hums. "Can I put an arm around your waist? My arm..."

"Yeah." You grin. "You can touch me."

Damian's breath catches in his throat at how straightforward you are, arm wrapping around your torso slowly, resting his chin on your head, glancing down at your phone.

"Do you think about weddings?"

You close your phone, plugging it back in on the strand, settling yourself in Damian's arms. "Sometimes."

"What kind do you want?"

"I want your name on my skin at the wedding," You mumble, eyes already closed.

"Like bridal henna?"

"Mhm."

Damian struggles to sleep the whole night because of your words. Though, it's not like he's gone without sleep before. Instead, he spends the night matching his breathing to yours, wrapping his arms tighter around you, taking in the scent of your shampoo. At some point his eyes close, body betraying him and falling to the need. He wakes up to you shifting in his arms, turning around to get a look at his face better, lashes blinking on his skin, eyes staring up at him, sun reflecting in them.

Damian's breath hitches, and in his morning stupor, he rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes, nose touching yours, the love of the universe in the way he looks at you. His shoulders relax as he continues looking, sure that his pupils have expanded beyond repair, utterly enamored with how you looked in the morning. His arms squeeze around your waist affectionately, moving to bury his head into the crook of your neck, exhaling as he does.

"Good morning." He feels you smile.

"Good morning to you too, habibti." He mumbles back, smile mirroring yours, he's sure.

The wedding moves without too big of an issue, the two of you bring the wine and leave it at the gift table, Damian sits next to you the whole time, watching as you get the bouquet practically launched at you, catching it with a flinch, chasing after the bride with the bouquet as a weapon, messing up your hair in the meantime but getting a laugh out of it. Damian stands to the side, talking only briefly with the groom's family, introducing himself as your soulmate, not Damian Wayne. He was yours first before he was a businessman now. Yours. It rings nicely in his head. He was yours. He would be fine with that — being yours.

At some point you return to Damian's side, sighing with the bouquet in hand.

"When's our wedding?" You joke, putting the bouquet on the table.

"It'll take a while." Damian hums, smoothing out your hair for you. "We still have to date and get engaged."

"I should've dodged."

"You wouldn't have been able to. Your friend did it on purpose." Damian mumbles, finishing with your hair.

"Is it alright?"

"Yes." He presses his lips to your forehead. "You look great, habibti."

You smile at him, the moon behind you this time.

"When do we fly?"

"I booked the plane for tomorrow." Damian hums. "We can sleep in."

"Oh, bless." You grumble. "The shoes are killing me."

"Would you like mine?" He offers. "Or would you like for me to carry you back?"

You pause, glancing at the emptier hall.

"I wouldn't dare let you take off your shoes for me." You smile at him.

"Sit, please," and you do, settling down as Damian gets on a knee, slipping your heels from your feet, holding onto them with one hand, the other hooking under your knees as he tells you to wrap your arms around his neck. You yelp as he does, and you wave bye to the bride as he settles you in his arms bridal style, your arms around his neck for support as he holds onto your shoes.

"Please don't drop me." You mumble.

"I wouldn't dare." He steps toward the elevator, pressing your floor as you pull the room card out from your pocket. (you had shown him before, with a spin, that your dress had pockets. Damian made a note to remember you liked them.)

He sets you on bed, loosening his tie and placing your heels down by your shoes, taking off his blazer to hang up in the closet. He watches you shimmy out of the dress, naked form to his eyes, breath catching in his throat at the way the moonlight illuminates your skin. He doesn't move, watching as you pull the robe from next to him, body on autopilot as you step into the showers. He'd wash up after you, unbuttoning his shirt and ditching his pants, sorting through his own luggage to find a change of clothes.

You open the door to the bathroom, robe on, blinking at his bare back.

"You're built like a wall." You blurt.

"Am I?" Damian hums.

"Does this come with your family or something? All of you are HUGE." You rub the towel through your hair.

"I suppose it does." Damian stands up, change of clothes in hand. "It's also from the training."

"For night?" You try your best to be vague. Damian appreciates it.

"Yes." He nods. "Would you like to see when we get back?"

"Sure." You grin. "Is it big?"

"It's a cave." Damian closes the door to the bathroom.

"Woah." You mumble. "Wild."

You settle yourself in the bed, back on your phone, yawning as you respond to a couple texts, scrolling through your email, checking the CCTV footage of the experiment you were doing. You had someone checking to see if the experiment was working, and from what they had told you, everything had replicated perfectly. You let out a sigh of relief when you found out. It would be fine. You'd finish with it, and then you'd retire somewhere with the money promised you in the contract. You worked hard for the moment.

You feel the bed dip behind you.

"Looking at the updates?"

"The experiment is moving faster than before." You mumble. "I should be able to report to your father in around a week."

"And then?"

You blink. "Not sure. I was thinking of finding a high rise to live in."

"Not with me?" Damian wraps his arms around you, getting comfortable.

"Don't you still live in the manor?"

"It's comfortable there." He mumbles. "I also have an empty apartment of my own. Would you like to move there?"

"Would you move in with me?" You turn to face him, phone on the nightstand.

"If you'd like."

"Yes, please," You grin. "If you'd like."

"Then I'd love to." He mumbles, reaching over you to close the light.

Damian takes you to the Batcave first, having the servants take your stuff to the apartment without asking you, adjusting the grandfather clock and letting you inside the cave, shutting it behind him. The two of you arrive right before patrol, and you get to meet all of his siblings. All of them. Even Nightwing.

"Who's this?"

"Soulmate." Tim doesn't bother looking at you, pressing his mask on. "Showing her around already? And you call us whipped."

"Shut up, Drake." Damian spits.

"Are you on duty tonight?"

"We take turns." Damian hums.

"Are any of these liquids active?" You stare at the tubes.

"Those two are for Ivy when she attacks. Less these days, but she occasionally strikes us with sex pollen for fun. Those are neutralizers. That one's for Scarecrow's fear toxin, and that one—"

You nod along as Damian explains everything to you, waving at his siblings as they head off for patrol.

"Are you tomorrow?"

"Yes." He hums. "Did you want to come along?"

"That's too dangerous." Batman speaks up, and you pause.

"Mr. Wayne." You smile politely. "Didn't peg you to be the type to run around to try and fix crime."

"Desperate times call for desperate situations." He chuckles. "Damian, take care of her. The computer is off limits."

"Yes, father." Damian nods as he disappears too.

"Who's on patrol tomorrow?"

"Father goes every night, and then tomorrow is Spoiler, Orphan, Signal, and I."

"SOS..." You mumble quietly. "Sors. Ross. Ross."

Damian raises a brow.

"Your names." You smile. "You would be team Ross."

"If that makes you happy." He leads you back up the stairs.

"Do you have an intercom?"

"Oracle. She works every night."

"Is she a sibling?"

"No. She used to be Batgirl."

"mm." You nod slowly. "Oh, it's late, huh? I should probably head home."

"You can stay here for the night. I had the servants send your luggage to my apartment. I can drive the two of us to work tomorrow." Damian shuts the clock behind the two of you.

"You have the same hours as us?"

"Yes."

"Speaking of which, how come you and Tim don't go to work together?"

"Tim does not live in the manor. He lives with his soulmate." He leads you to his room. "This is my room. Make yourself comfortable."

You mumble something under your breath about how big the bed is before you head over to the bathroom to wash up. "Are there pajamas I can borrow?" You peek from the door.

"I'll leave them on the bed." He pulls a shirt and clean boxers from his closet, setting them on the bed, settling at his desk, reading through what he would be meeting about the next day. He had hoped Tim would've taken care of the meetings over the weekend, but he supposes he can't avoid everything. It's painfully boring. The meetings are always boring.

"Whatcha looking at?" You come out with a towel in your hair, maneuvering his shirt onto you, putting on his boxers. It's a size too big, and you have to use a hair tie to keep it in place.

"I have a meeting tomorrow."

You shudder. "I don't miss having meetings."

"Did you intern somewhere else?"

"I interned in England for a bit." You lean over his shoulder, staring at the meeting details. "Oh, on the product."

"Yes, the new birth control we're trying to release. The injection."

"It would be helpful. I can't say blocking hormones is good for the body." You mumble. "Does it work on males?"

"We're releasing both versions."

"That's good." You mumble. "It'd be really helpful."

"Dick's soulmate made us read through the entire list of possible side effects of birth control and scared us half to death." Damian hums. "Even father."

"I read through it once."

"Do you take birth control?"

"Nope. Never slept with anyone, didn't plan on sleeping with people." You shrug. "You?"

Damian pauses. "I haven't either."

"Oh, really?" You mumble. "You've dated before."

"Hooked up." He corrects. "I always felt bad after kissing."

You laugh. "That was the universe telling you no."

"Perhaps." He shrugs. "Let's get to bed."

You barely see Damian after that, the two of you busy with your own affairs in the company, busy with moving your stuff into the apartment outside of work. Damian drives you home and helps you with the boxes, but the two of you don't have substantial conversation. Even when you finish the trials and present everything to the board, Damian doesn't get to have a moment with you, invitations to speak at colleges and other locations flooding into your mail. Damian finally catches you as you finish moving into the apartment.

"Habibti." He breathes, arms wrapping around your shoulders, head resting on your head. "I was looking for you."

"You could've called." You smile at him, voice muffled by his chest.

"You were not answering."

"My bad." You wiggle to loosen his arms, smile on your face. "Bruce transferred the money to my account. I'll be taking a break for a bit before I go speak at all those invitations."

"I am going to retire." He grumbles. "I never get to see you."

"We live together." You grin. "You get to see me every day now."

"Not enough." He mumbles. "I will leave Drake to deal with the family business."

"You're needed, you know? They need you for all the charity you guys do now." You pat his chest gently. "All of the animal shelters you volunteer at too."

"Would you like to visit one with me? There's an event tomorrow at the shelter to bring a friend."

"Oh, so I'm just a friend to you?" You tilt your head at him playfully.

"A friend," He presses a kiss to the corner of your left eye. "Habibti," He presses another kiss to the corner of your right eye. "And my soulmate." He rests his forehead on yours, hands on your face, eyes on your lips. "May I?"

You press your lips to his in response.

You're a work of art. Damian finds himself with an arm around your waist much more than he could have ever thought, his own life mingled with yours to the point of no return. You meant so much to him. You were the world to him. Fingers laced with yours at events, lips pressed to your hair in the rays of the morning sun, there was little to complain about and everything to be grateful for. His own little ray of the sun to make his life a little better.

Which is why he finds himself checking for the quality of the diamond, discussing the price of the gem with the dealer, running it through tests just to make sure it was the best. The emeralds he picks are hand-selected too, calling his mother as she teaches him how to discern between the good ones and bad ones. You were still yet to meet her, but for some reason, she had not asked questions, only wishing him luck on the proposal. It would take a while between everything he had on his hands.

"You've been coming back later these days." You hum, resting your head on his chest.

"My apologies, habibti," He mumbles. "I've been busy."

"Even on the nights you don't patrol?"

"Yes." He mumbles. "I am not cheating, if you are worried."

"I wouldn't think of it." You close your eyes. "I trust you."

"I love you, a lot." He whispers, wrapping his fingers around your ring finger.

"I love you too." You mumble back, curling the finger.

Damian struggles with the first two prototypes, fingers too rough against the metal, groaning as he fails again, the jeweler only laughs affectionately, assuring him he would be fine. He tries again and again until the mold comes out how he wants it to look, the gold chosen so that it wouldn't rust. The chances of you wearing your engagement ring while working were rare, but he still wanted to guarantee that it would not rust quickly. You deserved the world, and he'd make sure of it, even in something as simple as the ring he would give you.

On his seventh try, he gets a mold that leaves him satisfied. He had gotten your ring finger fitted before on top of his nightly routine of wrapping his fingers around it, and he was sure it would fit. The gems arrive cut out perfectly, the green diamond compared to his eyes by Dick and his brothers' soulmates a hundred times, assuring him that the color matched his eyes perfectly. Damian almost got his eyes color matched had it not been Bruce himself stepping in, assuring him that it matched his eyes well. The emeralds would match his eyes in different lighting. He was fine. Only then did Damian let the jeweler settle the diamonds into the ring, making sure that the gems wouldn't just tumble out. Not that he didn't trust the jeweler — he was worried it'd fall out on accident — alright, he doesn't trust the jeweler.

On the day the ring was completed, Damian had checked it under the light, mumbling to himself about how he hoped you like it. He had made it by hand as you told him you wanted him to, and the gems were all hand selected and picked to match his eyes. You'd be happy with it no matter what he gives you as an engagement ring, he's sure, but he had held your words close to his heart. You deserved an engagement ring you had dreamed of as a child. On the inside of the band, habibti is written in Arabic, a reminder of your soulmate bond, his heart full.

"You're home on time for once!" You beam, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you, habibti." He mumbles, arms wrapped around your waist.

"I made dinner for us since you promised you'd be home today." You pull him along.

As he follows you, the ring in his back pocket feels lighter, your fingers curled around his, lips pulled into a dazzling smile.

He's yours.

From the known past to the unpredictable future, he was yours, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#Bro damian reading shoujo manga was not on my bingo card while looking for headers for him I'm kinda laughing at this #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #damian wayne imagines #recently I rediscovered the imagines tag that was kinda fun to know #☾.fics

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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year

Text

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #john constantine #eldritch danny #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny

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stevieschrodinger · 2 years

Text

Wayne knows something big must have happened. Well, he knew objectively that it was big, Eddie spent a couple of weeks in the hospital and half the town fell into a trench, so yeah, Wayne was aware. But it wasn't until Wayne saw that Eddie was suddenly hanging out with a girl called Nancy, pretty and clever and even to Wayne's untrained eye 'a cool kid' that Wayne knew the world had shifted when he wasn't looking.

Eddie had never had friends, not really, and the friends he did have were brought together by that godawful music he likes and roleplay games (yes, Wayne knows what that is, he does listen when Eddie speaks). So, Eddie's never had much in the way of what you'd call social standing, not in the pecking order of the local high school at least.

This thought may have occured to Wayne at the sight of Nancy, but it was driven home by the sight of the Harrington boy coming through the front door of the New Trailer. Even Wayne knows who the Harrington boy is, and Wayne knows he basically lives under a rock. Eddie's told him enough times.

Eddie mumbles something about a shower and a quick change and Harrington looks twelve shades of uncomfortable as Eddie abandons the poor kid in their lounge. Wayne is absolutely certain nothing about the New Trailer is up to the standards the Harrington boy is familiar with.

Still, he's just a kid, and When Wayne indicates the couch next to his recliner, the kid sits gingerly and they both get to the job of ignoring one another.

Until theres a bad fowl, the ref makes a shitty call, and the Harrington kid makes a noise in the back of his throat that Wayne can't help but echo. "Shitty," Wayne comments passively.

Steve hums agreeable, and then says, "he was having a good run, too".

"Yeap, seasons just warming though."

And then Steve says something, and Wayne answers, and before he really knows what's happening he's having an in depth discussion with the Harrington kid who looks, if anything, equally enraptured, if the way he's leaning forward on the couch is anything to go by.

Eddie isn't at all interested in sports, but the Harrington kid sure as hell is and Wayne quickly discovers that it doesn't matter if it's baseball, football, or basketball, the kid is all over it. He's even started twittering about the Olympics.

Wayne can't help himself, he's not had anyone to talk to like this for a long time, not outside of his very occasional visits to the local bar, and before he knows what's happening the Harrington boy is now Steve and he's swinging by on Saturday afternoon to watch the game.

Eddie stands in the hallway, shocked and appalled, "I leave you alone for ten minutes..."

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #local hero wayne munson #wayne munson #headcanon #i know nothing about sportsball #i am not a sports person

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kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Note

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

#könig fluff #könig x reader #silly könig shenanigans

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joequiinn · 6 months

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1

[chap two] | [all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao. Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol. I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.

(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)

wc: 3.9k

Chapter One

The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.

Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.

Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.

Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.

To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.

So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?

That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.

Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.

You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.

Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.

It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.

So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.

Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).

Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.

Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.

So… What did you want? What did you actually like?

It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.

Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.

So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?

Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?

You settled on four key things to keep in mind:

You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.

You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.

You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.

And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.

How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.

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The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.

You were going to sit at a new lunch table.

You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.

But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?

You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.

Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.

“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”

So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.

“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.

“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”

You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.

Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.

And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.

You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.

As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.

As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.

Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.

Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.

Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.

Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.

As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.

That’s when an idea began to form.

You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.

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In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).

You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.

You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.

So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”

Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.

But then the idea gave you pause.

You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.

But… maybe?

Shit, what a stupid idea.

Or maybe it was a brilliant one.

You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.

You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.

Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?

It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.

So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:

Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436

You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.

You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.

He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”

Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”

The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.

“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.

You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.

So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.

When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn’t know, but you nonetheless continued it.

So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.

It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.

You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:

Picnic table behind the football field, 4.

God, what were you getting yourself into.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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i-mean-y-not · 14 days

Text

The Boy Next Door

Armin is the quintessential boy next door. No, quite literally, his family moved in when he was thirteen and you were twelve.

He was always reserved.

You watched each other grow up. From a distance, of course, seeing as you never spoke to each other outside of neighborly dinners.

While you ran in different social circles, you swear he was always in your peripheral. You tended to stick with the crowd that tolerated school but was prepared to skip a class at a moments notice.

His group of friends, however didn’t really… suit him. Onyankopon was this calm yet smoldering guy, but remained casual in his social settings. You’d never seen him utter a word but his eyes spoke volumes. Connie was the definition of hyper. With his expressive and colorful wardrobe and the almost manic way he approached everything. Eren was one of the most nonchalant people you’ve ever seen. His hair was always in a half up – half down style, and his eyes pierced through even the thinnest of gazes.

Then, there was Armin.

The one that wore a collared shirt and a pullover with the name of a prestigious university on it almost daily. Armin screamed teenage dream. With his signature floppy blonde hair, and quiet laugh that he never showcased more than twice in your presence.

Armin had lofty dreams. Claiming since he was all the fourteen that he was going to Yale. And despite his friend group, he was determined to do just that. While he’s getting acceptance letters, no doubt and planning to move halfway across the world, you were stuck. Confused, without a clue, aspiration, or goal that you truly wanted to pursue.

You’ve been accepted to your local college and plan on taking your general studies there, but after that? It’s all up in the air. Graduation comes and goes and the finality sinks in.

You toss and turn in your bed the week after and find yourself sneaking out of the house to sit on the beach adjacent to your home. The ocean waves lull you into a peaceful slumber and before you know it, you’re being gently shaken awake. Groggily, you pop an eye open and you’re immediately met with blue.

The ocean has nothing on this blue, though. This blue is a mixture between the sky on its clearest day and hues that streak the sky on the darkest night. This blue stares at you in worry as you hurriedly sit up despite your obvious fatigue.

“The hell is wrong with you?” you murmur, slapping at Armin’s hands. He responds by throwing them up in quiet surrender. He sits on the sand next to you and this is the closest you’ve been in about a year.

“Been a minute.”

And yeah that voice is still the same.

It’s the perfect blend of soothing and gruff and you’re tempted to fall right back asleep again after a three measly words.

“It has,” you respond.

“You okay?” he counters. Just then the breeze flies between the two of you and you inhale the eucalyptus scent that flows off him.

“Fine.” you reply.

That’s all you have and with an awkward yet self assured stumble, you get up, shake the sand off, and start the trek back to your house.

It’s not that you dislike Armin.

No, that was the farthest from the truth. You liked him, a little too much. A crush would be an understatement. You yearned for him. Looked out for him at school, at parties, even through your second story window.

You don’t really know when it started. Somewhere between the mandatory dinners and being semi-friends in middle school.

But he’s never seen you that way and that’s okay.

So, you steer clear. You always have and you fear that you always will. But he has other plans, it seems. Because as the summer approaches its end he’s everywhere.

He’s at the beach when you can’t sleep. He’s at the convenience store when you run in for a ginger ale. He’s even at the pool that you barely frequent because you can’t swim.

And now he’s at your local diner sitting right next to you at the dine-in counter.

You don’t notice that it’s him at first. Content to enjoy your greasy cheeseburger and cookies and cream milkshake, you feel someone take the seat next to you while you munch happily on a fry.

The twenty something waitress bats her eyes and asks for the order of the patron. They pause and respond, “Can I have a vanilla milkshake with a large fry, heavy on the seasoning?”

Your head snaps to the right at that oddly specific order. And there he was. You don’t greet him, too flummoxed by the intense way he’s already staring at you.

You’re content to swivel back around in your seat and sip at your milkshake once more. He doesn’t stay silent for long, however.

“Hi,” he greets.

And the sigh you give is more like a seventy mile an hour gust of wind in a hurricane. “Can I help you?”

His eyes don’t waver for even a millisecond. He hums to himself, a quiet, raspy sound that tapers off before he replies. “You can actually.”

Your eyes blink owlishly at him as the waitress sits his order down in front of him. Instead of answering, your eyebrows almost meet in the middle of your forehead. “Go out with me.”

And you almost fall backwards onto the unsterile floor. The fry that was meant for your mouth now hangs limply in your hand.

What is going on?

“Check please!” You exclaim.

Now his head slams back as if he’s been physically assaulted. The waitress scurries over, check in hand. You take it from her, and almost instantly, a gentle hand covers yours.

“I got it,” Armin murmurs with a smile that graces just the corner of his lips.

“No,” you adamantly refuse. You already felt hot at the mere thought of going a date with him and if you stay any longer, you’ll cry from the need to shout an affirmative for everyone to hear. So, instead of reading the amount due, you slam down two twenty dollar bills and book it.

It’s two weeks later when there’s a small gathering at Armin’s home. A going away dinner, as one would put it, and you pretend to be sick in order to stay home.

There’s no need to rub elbows with a guy that just acknowledged your existence two Wednesdays ago. So, you sit this one out. You’re more than happy to pass the time under your blanket and streaming a show you’ve seen a thousand times.

You’re fading into an almost slumber when there’s a quiet knock at your door. Your eyes blink open blearily and you hum an almost silent, “Come in.”

A blonde head peeps in and cerulean eyes peer at you from your doorway. You fold your lips in and sit up slightly as an invitation and he’s opening the door so he’ll fit. The slight tilt of your head must give away your confusion so he holds up a paper bag and your head dips even further.

“I heard you were sick,” he offers by way of explanation. The way you have to physically restrain yourself from jumping on him is ridiculous, because what?

Why is he making it so hard for you?

You just wanted him to go off to school and let you have your sad girl hours in peace.

“You can leave it, thanks.” You offer with a small nod.

“You don’t even know what it is, though?” Biting the inside of your cheek you decide to swallow this ridiculous pill of faux friendliness. “Ramen,” he answers before you get a syllable out of your mouth.

And you’re surprised that you don’t have a raging headache because of all the odd movements you’ve forces your cranium into. Ramen is your favorite food, especially on days when you were feeling sick. Ramen was your favorite food when you were feeling…anything. So, the fact that it’s here, steaming in his hand confuses you.

“I went to that place you like,” he says. Which makes you think that this is making less and less sense.

Upon looking at the logo on the bag, you realize that it is in fact from your favorite shop which is perplexing. Thirty minutes each way for one bowl of ramen for a neighbor that you barely speak to just doesn’t add up.

You sit up abruptly. So fast that he flinches back slightly at the unanticipated movement. Your mouth opens slightly in quiet awe and your eyes have to be as wide as they can possibly get. By the blush on his cheeks that you can barely see, you’re informed of something you’d never suspected.

“Shit,” he mumbles, “This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

And it’s all clicking now.

Slowly, the past seven years are seen through a different lens. He was always in your peripheral because he was looking for you too. But no matter how much you wish it, you don’t want to assume.

So in the most quiet voice you’ve ever spoken you whisper, “Armin do you…like me?”

He laughs; like full on laughs. He laughs so hard you suck your teeth in annoyance and shake your head in slight disappointment. He finally calms down and offers the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen grace a human being.

“Is that not obvious?”

Your jaw gapes in surprise. All this time the person you’ve been pining after wanted you too? Shock is the first emotion, then comes confusion and finally there’s anger.

You sigh. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He rubs his lips together in quiet consternation. “Why didn’t you?”

The small smile that tugs at your lips is proof that this is already having a toe curling, stomach lurching effect on you.

With a smile that touches your very marrow, you whisper, “All this time?”

He simply nods, grin stretching his face and echoes your sentiment. “Yeah, all this time.”

And because you wanna put up a fight and for your own curiosity you ask, “What did you order me?”

At the same time he inquires, “Can I kiss you?” Your nod is almost immediate. His movements are the same and your eyes flutter closed with the first press of his lips onto yours. His mouth works seamlessly against your own and his hands begin to roam. His lips claim yours so fervently that you have no room to even breathe.

You grab his hair roughly as a way to ground the both of you and he groans desperately. Your toes curl from the sound alone and with a small whimper he’s murmuring against your lips. “Please.”

“Yes,” you answer the question that wasn’t even spoken.

His mouth slowly detaches from yours and his eyes flutter open and the blue is long gone. His eyes are now an almost iridescent shade of indigo. And you have to gulp to control what might come tumbling out of your mouth.

Before you utter a word, his mouth is back on you. This time it’s on your throat, then your neck, and he’s traveling further and oh…

“Wait, Arm-”

He doesn’t really give you much of an option. Your body is dragged down until your legs have no choice but to butterfly open for you to be comfortable.

“ I just wanna see you.”

And you slowly realize, that is the problem. That whole quiet and mysterious illusion he gave off was a cover that you’re beginning to see right through. But his voice is as slow and sweet as molasses when he reassures softly, “Just a peek, gorgeous.”

You can’t really refuse that, can you? So you gulp and your inexperience shows when your hands hover in the air awkwardly.

“Here,” he declares, and places your hand atop the mop of curls that is his hair. The ramen he brought is cast aside as he settles on the floor so he’s in a sort of crouch. Like a leopard waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle. The analogy, you realize, is fitting for the situation you come to understand when he slides your panties down and peeks up at you. Your eyes widen and snap shut almost violently and with a small chuckle he hums.

“That won’t do.” Your eyes blow right back open as soon as you feel his tongue lick its way inside you. A breath whooshes out of you in guilty pleasure and his eyes haven’t left yours yet.

He licks long and thick stripes everywhere and you almost cry in fascination.

You’re not a shy person.

Not at all, but you’re afraid that the sounds you’ll make will be less than sexy. So you stay quiet and that’s the only mistake you’ll make tonight.

He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders and that’s when the sounds force their way out of you. Every noise you make is either a gasp, cry, or whimper and the encouragement he gives makes you gush. The way he slurps at you should be embarrassing but you can’t find a breath to take let alone a care to give.

His name is on your lips and as your stomach starts to knot and your abdominal muscles cave in, you can’t help but smile.

Then it comes. Your toes curl so hard they crack and your mouth opens on a silent scream. Who knew? The boy next door was now a man who gave you the best—the first—orgasm of your life.

Your eyes blink slowly down at him and the moistness around his mouth should bother you, but you chuckle to yourself in delight.

Ever the gentlemen, he slides your panties back and places a kiss square on your clit and you twitch without giving your body permission to. He gets up and brushes off his khakis and you pretend not to see the very obvious stain that resides there. You fade out slowly after that, body becoming disconnected from the world and slowly fading into unconsciousness.

“Thank you,” you almost slur.

You see the whites of his teeth in response. “It was my pleasure.”

You nod, trying your best to hold onto this moment and right before you slip off into dreamland you murmur, “I love you.”

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princesssmars · 14 days

Text

victoria with lab tech reader…nsfw.

when you were approached at your basic post-grad biomedical science research program with the opportunity to "study and develop a potentially groundbreaking medication", you immediately, but politely, called bullshit. but your boss and coworkers encouraged you once they heard the pay, so you accepted.

it was…challenging to say the least.

the lab and the workers were shady as hell, not telling you any details about the company you were working for, if you were even working for a company, what exactly this medication was for, etc etc. but the pay really was good, enough to help you splurge on yourself while also saving and paying off your student loans, so you couldn’t really complain.

after about two months of great work and progress on your tasks, the leads of your team told you that one of the head donors would like to “talk about utilizing your full potential”. you were expecting further praise for your work and maybe a pay boost, not to walk into an office with the super attractive congresswoman you’d seen on tv sitting at the desk.

she has just as much mysterious charisma as she had then, keeping eye contact as she pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before she places herself on top of the desk, pantsuit-covered leg only a few inches from yours. she gives you a mini rundown of why she personally picked you out from your university and she's been keeping a close eye on your personal progress to develop a cure for an unknown but deadly disease you had been keeping track of.

"so that's why im here? we're working on a disease?"

"yeah, you could say that."

her smile unnerves you but you don't mention it. nor do you bring up how weird it feels that a congresswoman would be following your manic studies over a disease that only ten thousand people in the world had. you do have to reel in your ego slightly, figuring this meant that your theories were legitimate.

things are weird after that. now that you have some more hints about what you are actually doing your work starts to move along slowly, even impressing your lead with the progress you started to make.

ok, maybe a tiny little part of it was so that when victoria came in on her weekly walk-throughs she'd observe your work and give you that pretty smile of hers, maybe even a 'great job, hun' if you were lucky.

as the weeks went by and the medication came along her affection only grew in intensity, from leaving coffee at your workstation to inviting you to take lunch breaks with her. it was odd and completely unprofessional, but when those slender fingers would move one of your stray hairs back in place while telling a story you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

but then it happens - that dreaded period in any medical science where just one stupid little thing stumps you for a week. you should be used to it at this point, having been through this process since you bought your first microscope in middle school. it doesn't make it any easier to power through though, especially when you know everyone on your team is depending on you to finish up your labs.

so now you've resorted to this, three red bulls and a heap of paperwork around you while you frantically rework the math on some of the work you need to turn in. you're a few minutes away from slumping over when a loud door slam forces you upright, looking to the entryway to make eye contact with victoria.

you dont know how it happens but you go from hunched over in your chair to lying on the comfy couch in her office, a short blanket draped over your body as you drowsily explain your conundrum to the older woman. she nods along the entire time, a soft hand rubbing up and down the bare expanse of your arm while she listens to your rambling.

'what on earth are you doing?' your brain asks yourself when you shift closer to her body that's sitting next to you, head delicately resting in her lap. 'are you really going to jeopardize your career like this?' when your eyes flutter when she runs her hand over your cheek and down your neck. she leans her head down ever so slowly until her lips are just barely pressing into yours, corners pulling up when she sees you arch your back in wait for her neck action.

"but you'll figure it out for me, won't you smart girl?"

you solved the problem the next morning.

i dont even wanna write for her GIVE HER BACK TO ME

#this was gonna be a lot h0rnier but I'm really tired so #the boys #gen v #the boys x reader #gen v x reader #victoria #victoria neuman #victoria x reader #victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman fluff

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gureumz · 1 year

Text

bet? bet!

like a freak, like a g [installment 1]

rating: explicit

member: jake

premise: there's not much secrets to be found out with the director of recruitment. but he does recruit you for one hell of a challenge: fuck your way around his frat house.

notes: fem!reader, greek life!au, university!au, fwb!jake, slightly possessive!jake (but he's also down to share), dirty talk, brief mention of pregnancy, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: first installment of the 'sleeping around the frat house' series! tried something different here, not sure if it'll work but i like this one~ i'm so excited for this series so i hope you all join along for the ride! *divider by cafekitsune

jake sim is not your boyfriend.

he's a friend. from high school. who happens to go to the same university as you.

for the first few weeks of freshman year, the two of you were each other's default, having moved to this city all on your own for your respective degrees.

orientation, vacant periods, dinner after class. all of these were spent with jake. you clung onto each other like velcro. freshman jake and ______ versus the world.

and then jake decided to rush for a frat and you got roped into your own extracurriculars. the friendship faded into texts here and there about things that reminded you of each other. memes. an occasional selfie update.

until jake invited you to the frat's recruit-organized party for the year.

"i bought all the booze," jake had declared proudly, voice straining over the booming music. you nodded, genuinely impressed by how well the recruits put the party together.

"it's a fun party," you practically yelled into jake's ear. he pulled back and smiled down at you.

the recruits even managed to rent party lights for the night. and under the purple-red glow of the strobes, you realized just how handsome jake is up close. even when he's standing at the top of the stairs and you at the bottom, him beckoning you up, you could readily admit he was hot.

and you kind of did.

"jake," you breathed out quietly, leaning over the banister from the second floor overlooking the party below. jake is right beside you.

he turned to you, eyes blinking slowly from the alcohol he's consumed thus far. jake leans in closer and you can smell the heineken on his breath.

"i'm kinda...bored," you said rather lamely. jake snorted, leaning his head down on your shoulder. you breathe the scent of his shampoo in, nuzzling your face in his soft raven hair.

"what do you wanna do?" jake asked, craning his neck to look at you from where he's still laid down on your shoulder.

jake snaked an arm around your waist and you knew you were done for. a second later, you were kissing, and within another minute, he's pushing you towards the direction of his room at the very end of the hall.

"fuck, you're so hot," you blurted out over the creaking of his bed, his movements messy and frantic but still enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure.

"so are you," jake had said, grinning down at you. his hands dug into your sides, keeping you pinned in place as he fucked into you with the enthusiasm only a drunk college frat boy could possess.

and the rest was history.

---

it went on like this for the next year and a half. a friendship maintained through quickies in his car and semi-dates in his frat house bedroom, takeout boxes on his desk while he fucked you doggy style on his (still) creaky bed.

it's not to say you kept things exclusive. that wasn't part of the deal.

whatever the deal is. you haven't really talked about it.

there would be times when neither of you would reach out for weeks or months on end. you'd start to wonder why he was gone so long but then you'd see jake post a girl's hand or half of someone's face on his instagram story, complete with an obscure poetic indie love song in the background.

ah. of course.

in your defense, you had your fair share of flings and situationships here and there. one even came close to an actual serious relationship.

yeonjun, a music major senior you went out with last year when you were a sophomore. he took you out to dates and introduced you to his friends and wrote you songs. but he always found an excuse to avoid that conversation.

(you found out without much difficulty that it was just his ex begging for him to come back.)

guess what happens next.

and so by the tail end of last academic year, you and jake somehow were aligned once again. both single. both horny.

three months later and here you are after the first day of classes of your third year, naked on jake's bed. just like the old times.

"i missed you," jake whispers, hands moving frantically over your body, tugging at your clothes while his mouth busied itself on your neck.

"we saw each other back home a few weeks ago," you reply, giggling when you feel jake lick a stripe up to your jaw.

he can be a little excitable sometimes. like a puppy.

"weeks, ________. can't believe you flew off to some island somewhere while i was left alone to jerk off to pictures of you," jake complains, blowing hair out of his eyes as he pulls away. he tugs his shirt off in one graceful swoop and you're greeted with an eyeful of his abs.

"well, if it's any consolation, i touched myself to your pictures, too," you respond, dropping your voice to a seductive lilt. your hand smooths down jake's bare torso as he leans back down over you, a grin spreading on his face.

"yeah?" he asks.

"oh yeah," you affirm, nodding. you reach down to cup jake through his sweats, a quiet hiss escaping him as you do so.

"fuck, baby, need you so bad," jake admits, hurriedly tugging and kicking off his pants. he's bare under the cotton fabric, having foregone boxers. typical jake.

jake spits on his palm, wrapping his hand around his shaft right after, jerking it to full hardness. he bites down on his lip as his other hand grabs at one of your tits, kneading and squeezing.

"wait," you call out, laying a hand on jake's arm. "you haven't fucked anyone while i was gone, right?"

jake rolls his eyes playfully, leaning down to kiss you. your teeth clash for a moment and you gasp slightly, not expecting such passion from jake.

"only wanted to fuck you," jake admits. he quirks an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously. "how about you?"

you shake your head. "couldn't go longer than a day without thinking about you filling me up with that cock."

jake grins, kissing you again. he lines his tip with your entrance, pulling away slightly as he slips in between your slick folds.

"missed this," jake mutters, pushing more and more of himself in. you simultaneously sigh out in relief once he's bottoms out.

"missed you," he adds.

you snake your arms around jake's shoulders, pulling him close as he starts to rut against you. he moans softly next to your ear and you let yourself do the same, your voices mingling and bouncing off the walls of jake's tiny bedroom.

"fuck, _______," jake groans. "how are you always so tight?"

you don't answer, merely wrapping your legs around jake's hips, pulling him closer. you hear him grunt as he leans back to look at you. his eyes are dark but focused on you. you feel fingers snake around your throat and you can't help the way your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"yeah, that's right," jake chuckles. he squeezes at your jugular lightly and you whine, grabbing at jake's wrist.

"such a whore, aren't you? my cockhungry whore," jake declares. you love it when he gets possessive and you know he knows. he uses it to his advantage any time he can.

"yeah," you agree, nodding as best as you can with jake squeezing at your air pipes. your voice is strained, hoarse from the way jake is choking you.

"yours. only yours."

jake curses under his breath, letting go of your neck. you gasp for air but any attempt to breathe is quickly cut short as you feel jake press your legs up against your chest. you cry out in surprise, jake hammering into you with a newfound speed and strength that sends your brain in a frenzy.

you always felt a certain way when jake has you like this, cunt in full view, body folded nearly in half, fucking into you like he was trying to put a baby in you.

"mine." jake sounds nearly animalistic, a primal need taking over him as he forces your legs harder against your chest.

your head is spinning, limbs going limp with how hard jake is fucking you. the feeling in your abdomen snaps tight, threatening to break.

you babble incoherently a barely distinguishable mix of jake's name, curses, and pained pleas of 'more, need more!' or 'feel s'fucking good, jakey! your cock feels so good!'. it doesn't take long for jake to give the last of his frenzied thrusts, pushing in deep when he cums, spurts of himself filling you up just as you'd hoped.

jake continues to fuck into you after a while, knowing you haven't finished just yet. you reach down between your legs to press your fingers onto your clit, hips grinding up to meet jake's. he complains of oversensitivity but he goes on and by mercy, your own orgasm finally takes over, you clenching down on jake's half flaccid dick.

he pulls out after a few moments, finally allowing himself some relief. you're both breathing hard, sweaty and tired from the whole ordeal. you prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting jake's eyes.

"please don't deprive me for that long ever again," jake says with a sleepy smile, slumping over you. you giggle as you fall back against his bed, jake's face cradled in your neck,

you run your fingers through his disheveled hair, lips pressed against his temple.

jake sim is not your boyfriend but it's times like this that it feels like he might be.

a noise jostles you out of your thoughts. a phone notification.

jake lifts his head from your chest, blindly groping around his bed for his phone. he finally locates it after a moment, handing it to you.

"can you read that for me? jake requests, voice muffled as he snuggles closer to you.

you squint as the sudden brightness of the screen practically assaults your eyes. you blink a few times, reading the message displayed on the notification.

from hee: are you done? i had to physically restrain jay from pounding your door down.

"oh shit," you say, throwing your head back in embarrassment.

"your frat bros heard us," you inform jake.

jake merely snorts, winding his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"as they have a million times before," jake points out. "it's not like i'm the only one who fucks loudly in this house."

your ears perk up at that.

"oh? is the rest of the frat a bunch of man whores like you?" you tease, nudging jake lightly with your knee. he lifts his head up, frowning at you.

"i'm not a man whore, thank you very much," jake says with a roll of his eye. "can't speak for the rest of them, though."

"spill," you urge, raising your eyebrows expectantly at jake.

"sorry, babe, the secrets of the frat must be kept with full confidentiality," jake counters with a shrug.

you narrow your eyes at that. you've seen jake's frat brothers around a handful of times. you'd have to be blind to not see their good looks. and you'd have to be a liar not to admit that they are, indeed, good-looking.

"unless you want to find out for yourself," jake adds, giving you a look as if to say, 'i dare you'.

you straighten up, leaning against jake's headboard.

"let's say i do want to find out," you begin, crossing your arms against your chest.

jake's mouth falls open but his expression quickly shifts into a look of mischief. he looks off to the side, as if pondering on what to tell you. after a few seconds, he snaps his fingers and returns his gaze to you. he's practically bouncing with excitement.

"you can always sleep your way around the house," jake suggests, cocking a brow, as if to challenge you.

you pause. a million different questions come tumbling down on you. before you could get a word out, jake holds out his arms.

"or, at least, the executive committee," jake hurriedly adds. "i can guarantee you, all the other members aren't worth your time."

if you weren't interested before, you're definitely intrigued now.

"i got one ticked off so far," you muse, smiling sweetly at jake. "not much secrets to be found with the director of recruitment."

it takes jake a moment to realize you're referring to him. he rolls his eyes, reaching over to tickle your side. you swat his arm away, giggling.

"as if any of the others could fuck you the way i do," jake scoffs. he leans over the side of the bed, reaching for his discarded shirt. he tosses it in your direction.

you catch the fabric in your hands, pulling it over your head. jake stops as he straightens up, the rest of his and your clothes in his hands. he gives you a one-over and smirks.

"make sure to let them fuck you while you wear this, okay?" jake teases, leaning in to kiss you.

"no promises," you taunt back. jake pulls away, a look of confusion on his face.

"you're not actually serious, are you?" jake questions. you nearly laugh at jake's genuinely clueless expression.

"why not? might be fun," you say with a shrug.

"besides, i never back down from a good challenge," you add.

jake studies you for a moment. you briefly think he might be mad or god forbid, disgusted with what you're attempting to do, but after a while, a shit-eating grin takes over his face.

"atta girl," jake says, winking. he kisses you again, hands grabbing at your waist.

jake sim is not your boyfriend because what boyfriend lets you fuck around with his frat brothers? but then again, it's not too late to talk about it. whatever it is with jake.

but for now, you have a task to get to.

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #jake scenarios #w: jake

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