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narraboths · 8 months

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i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her:

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

Supergirl is, well, just super.

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit – there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

#Anonymous #supercorp #supercorp fic #my fic #anon you've probably literally sent this three years ago and this is what i am like as a person. if ur still out there: hi

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strniohoeee · 8 months

Text

Hearth

Pairings: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: During a cabin get away a game of Never Have I ever leaves Y/N embarrassed. And a nice Matt is worried and in love🥹

Warnings⚠️: This is a 18+ story. It’s straight up smut okayyyy. Never have I ever being played, lose of virginity. Sweet cute lovey dovey sex. Madi is the “bad” guy but like I had no other girl to make it so it had to be her. No hate to her tho at all.

Song for the imagine: In my room- Chance Peña

⚠️THIS IS AN 18+ STORY SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT BEYOND THIS POINT⚠️

The triplets had asked me if I wanted to join them on their trip up to the cabin up in Cape Cod, of course I agreed I would never miss a trip to the Cape, but slowly I was getting a little nervous wondering if they had asked any other girl up to the cape with them. I was relieved when I found out it was only Madi, she was my only girl friend I had. Most girls the triplets would be friends with never liked me, so it made it hard to have friends. I never really cared because most just wanted to fuck Chris or matt, and they were soon dropped which made me laugh.

We had just got to the Cape on a chilly Friday night, and we immediately ran into the house, getting a fire started, and choosing our rooms. I picked the room with one bed, while Nick bunked with Madi and Chris and Matt bunked together. I enjoyed being alone, but sometimes that loneliness felt like seclusion. Madi was their friend first, and introduced me to them so I was close with them, but not as close as she was.

Although she was close with Nick I always felt this vibe that she might’ve liked matt. And it hurt after a while when I started to catch feelings for Matt. He was always there for me, and me and him were always together, that is until Madi comes around then I seclude myself not wanting her to think I wanted Matt. Although they never had anything going on I always knew how she truly felt.I never told her because Matt would never go for a girl like me when Madi was far more gorgeous.

I settled into my room deciding to unpack a few things, and I decided to turn on my Roku tv and cast my Spotify to the screen so I could blast Olivia Rodrigo. As I was unpacking and jamming out Matt came into my room

“Yooo” he said as he threw himself on my bed

“Sup Matt” I said lowering the volume on the tv to hear what he has to say

“We ordered some wings and fries from that spot we drove by on the way down here” he said watching as I put my makeup on the dresser

“Oh nice I’m so hungry” I said looking a him

“Yeah Chris took Madi with him” he said looking down at his phone with a blank stare.

“Oh cool” I said not really caring to respond to that

“So I figured I come chill with you” he said locking his phone and looking at me

“Ouu glad I’m an afterthought” I told him jokingly rolling my eyes

“What no..you just always leave me when Madi comes over to me” he said closing his eyes pretending to sleep

I went to answer but we heard Nick call us down to come eat. We both ran downstairs and sat at the table beginning to eat. As we ate we joked and laughed. My eyes kept wandering over to Matt and seeing Madi looking at him and chatting with him made me a little sad. God I wish he could look at me that way was all I could think.

As I’m continuing to glance at them I see her touch his hand in a flirting way, and this immediately made me lose my appetite. I loudly slid back from the table grabbing my plate and standing up.

“Done already” Chris asks looking at everyone else still shoving food down their throat

“Uhh yeah I uh just got really full” I said looking down at my plate that had four wings and a few fries eaten. He looks at me a little confused and just nods his head

I decided to clean up my plate and drink some water in the kitchen watching them as they engaged in conversation.

“OH MY GOD GUYS!” Nick yells loudly

“It’s a cabin tradition! We have to play never have I ever” he said giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Nick…what are we 10” Matt says shaking his head

“Nah this will be fun” Chris said laughing as he wiped his fingers

After everyone finished dinner and cleaned up we all showered and changed and went back to the living room. Madi had Matt help her start up a fire in the fireplace again after the first one went out. While Chris was grabbing a Pepsi before heading over to the couch. Nick was already sitting on the couch waiting for the fire to start. I was the last to join because I could care less about playing never have I ever. I wasn’t too fond of playing a game that ended in people being embarrassed and exposed.

I grabbed a water bottle and headed over to the couch to sit next to Nick.

“The queen joined us” Nick said hugging me

“Oh I couldn’t miss playing this middle school game” I said giving him a sarcastic grin

“Hey! This’ll be fun” Madi said, smiling at me, and I smiled back. I could never be mean to her. She was my closest friend, but man when she was all over Matt I never wanted to look at her again.

I just smiled at her, a weak smile that I hoped she picked up on, but knowing her she didn’t

“Alright bitches who’s going first?” Madi asked

“I say Nick goes since this was his idea” I stated looking over at Nick giggling slightly.

To this he just rolled his eyes and mumbled a ‘fine’

“Alright, never have I ever shit my pants” he said laughing and we all just rolled our eyes. All of us putting a finger down.

“Never have I ever stood someone up” Chris asked, every finger went down but mine.

“Y’all are cruel” I said shaking my head, and to this they laughed shouting out little excuses

“Ouuu never have I ever farted in a public place’’ Matt said laughing, once again all our fingers went down as we died in laughter… “ouuu stinky” Chris said in a funny voice.

Two rounds later I saw Madi’s body shift, and I knew this shift meant intense questions were coming.

“Let’s spice it up. Never have I ever made out with an influencer of some sort at a party” Hers and Nicks finger went down

“Never have I ever got caught during ‘me time’ Chris asked. My finger was the only one to go down. My eyes bulged out in embarrassment.

“Explain” Madi said laughing at me

“Well I was about 17, and I thought I was alone in my house, but uh turns out my grandma heard some things” I said covering my face in embarrassment as everyone laughed.

“Never have I ever kissed someone” Matt said, and once again my finger was the only one that didn’t go down.

“Never have I ever messed around in your parents house” Nick asked, and not a shocker my finger was still up.

“Never have I ever given head” Madi asked. Are we shocked that my fingers are still up??

“Never have I ever gotten head” Chris asks, wiggling his eyebrows. To no surprise the finger is still up.

“Never have I ever given a hickey, '' Madi asks, and now I’m starting to think she's picking up on my lack of experience because her eyes are starting to twinkle with an idea.

“Never have I ever had sex” I keep my fingers up with a long sigh and an annoyed expression

“Never have I ever hooked up in a car” Now I’m just staring at the floor wanting to die.

“Never have I ever not done a single sexual thing” Madi asks laughing

“Alright now you're just being mean” I finally snapped looking at her with a hard glare

“WHAT?? I’m just messing around with you” she said still laughing

“Yeah embarrassing me is so funny” I said giving her a sarcastic smile

“I didn’t embarrass you…technically you did that yourself” she said looking down. I just scoffed and got up

“Goodnight! Glad I could be the center of the ring for you guys” I said grabbing my phone and my water and turning around

“Wait don’t go” Matt said sounding bad for me, I just shook my head and kept walking upstairs to my bedroom

3AM

It was now 3am, and everyone had called it a night by 10 because of how exhausted they were from the drive here.

However I was wide awake replaying the embarrassing event that occurred a few hours prior. I was so annoyed that Madi would say such a thing. She was supposed to be my best friend, and those weren’t the vibes I was getting. I decided to head downstairs to sit in the living room, and clear my mind.

I headed downstairs, and started a small fire in the fireplace, so I didn’t have to keep the lights on, and potentially wake one of them up; because I really wanted to be alone right now. I sat in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around me. Just staring into the flames, and letting my thoughts run clearly. I felt a tear slip down my face as I felt all the embarrassment and shame wash over me.

Just sitting asking myself why. Why in the world would she ask those questions knowing my answer. I felt betrayed and like a fool. I shouldn’t be embarrassed of my lack of experience. I'm only 21. This is very normal, but I just hated how I felt, and I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and disappear. After wiping my tears and collecting myself I just stared into the fire letting the flames reflect off my brown eyes

Suddenly I heard a door creak open from upstairs, and feet shuffling. I was really hoping one of them were just going to the bathroom, so I can bask in my self hatred a little more. Unfortunately I heard the stairs creak loudly under the pressure of someone’s feet, but I refused to look over my shoulder.

I felt a presence next to me, and suddenly they sat down next to me, and only then did I finally look over, and to my surprise it was Matt looking into the fire. I watched the reflection of the flames make his icy blue eyes twinkle. When he decided to speak up “I don’t think you deserved that” was all he said still looking at the fire

“Thanks, but I’m used to being the embarrassed one” I said quietly

“Doesn’t matter. It was fucked up, and uncalled for. Plus she’s your best friend. I have no clue why she'd say such a thing. I’m not too sure what’s gotten into her lately” Matt said, looking over at me. This made me turn to look at him, giving him a small smile

“She likes you” was all I could say as I searched his eyes for an answer, or a glimpse of hope that they’d scream “i don’t like her” back at me

“Likes me?” He said with a confused look

“Yes Matt…you are so blind Madi is head over heels in love with you” I said in a nonchalant way

“She’s like my sister….I have never expressed any other feelings other than a family type of relationship with her” he said rubbing his eye

“Yeah well she might not have gotten that. Don’t you see the flirty looks, the flirty touches, the comments trying to embarrass me infront of you” I said looking him dead in the eyes

“Is this why you leave my side when she comes around?” He asked staring back into my eyes

“Well yes. I don’t want to be the punching bag, and I can’t stand watching her trying to get with you” I said slightly looking away from his gaze

“I would never get with her” he said almost laughing a little bit

“Why not? She’s gorgeous, long hair, beautiful face, thin, sweet, funny and nice” I said turning back to look at the fire

“This is crazy” he said still looking at you

“Is that all you took away from what the fuck I just said” Still not looking at him

“It’s crazy that even though she embarrassed you and always does you still have nothing but nice things to say about her” Matt said, waiting to see if I’d look at him

“Jesus Matt!” I said a little more loudly finally turning to look at him

“I’m sitting basically professing my love to you in such a vulnerable way, and all you can do is mention her” I said shaking my head

“Mentioning her? In case you haven’t noticed I’m mentioning you….haven't you seen all along?? The looks? The touches? Always running to you for opinions? Always looking for you? Always wanting to be near you? And all you did was run away from me every single time” he said looking hurt

“Didn’t you notice the captions on my instagram posts?? They would be finishing every sentence you would say. You pay attention to the little things, so I thought you’d catch on” He said shaking his head

Everytime Y/N would post on Instagram it was always a song lyric.

Y/N caption: she thinks it’s special

Matt’s caption: but it’s all reused

Y/N caption:Think I’ll miss you forever

Matt’s caption:Like the stars miss the sun

Y/N caption:I’m trying to be brave

Matt’s caption:Stop asking me to stay

And Y/N’s latest post even had some fans questioning what was really going on being her and the young boy.

Y/N caption:Just put your hand on the glass

Matt’s Caption:I’ll be there to pull you through

Their posts had been matching up for some time now, but neither of them would say a thing.

I just stared at Matt dumbly because I genuinely had not paid any attention to our captions. I couldn’t allow little small things to alter my brain, and make me think we had a chance

“Y/N you’re my everything. You have always been since the moment we shared a Twix after Chris stole mine. I saw how giving you were, and how you cared to everyone, and that made me fall head over heels in love with you” He said searching my eyes for an answer

“Matt you have been my everything since the moment you complimented my hair and makeup after Madi told me it was too much. Right in that moment it gave me so much hope you saw me differently” I told him looking back into his eyes

Without a warning he just pulled me in for a kiss. I have never kissed anyone before so I was shocked, but when I finally got the hang out I could feel butterflies all in my stomach, and the weight of 1,000 pounds being lifted off my chest.

“I have wanted to do that for so long” he said after pulling away, and all i could do was stay there starstruck and as red as a tomato

I just pulled him back in for a kiss, and this time it got more heated. I had wrapped us in the blanket when I started to lean back onto the floor as he started to hover over me.

“Wait I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this to do this” He said pulling away from the kiss

“I would never think that, and if I wanted to stop I would’ve” I told him shyly. He continues to kiss me slowly going down to my cheek, then my jawline, and then down to my neck. Peppering light kisses to my neck on both sides. This made me let out a few sighs as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Matt, can you take my virginity?” I asked him bluntly. He pulled back and looked into my eyes once again searching for any sign of discomfort

“Are you sure?” He asked me looking down to my lips

“Yes Matt. This is all I’ve ever wanted” I told him shamelessly. He nodded and began to kiss my neck again. He decided to take her shirt off, and continued to make out with me while I got more comfortable.

“Matt, I want to take off my shirt,” I said, pushing him back a little bit. He nodded and let me remove my shirt. I was completely bare in front of him. This made me a little shy, and he took notice

“God Y/N you’re so gorgeous” he said as he went down kissing both boobs, and slowly taking one nipple into his mouth while he kneaded the other one. I let out a silent moan and ran my hands through his hair. This action alone was making me so aroused, and I was starting to ache with an undeniable want for Matt

“I have to stretch you out a bit before I can have sex with you” he said after pulling away from my breast, and running a hand down from the valley of my beast to my lower abdomen.

“Do whatever you want to me Matt” I said looking at him

“This might hurt, and you have to promise to be quiet. We don’t want to wake them up” he said, kissing my lips. I nodded and bit my lip

He slowly removed my pants, and then along my underwear followed.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous with the fireplace reflecting off your skin” he said feeling up on my body as he stared at me

“Matt please touch me I want you so bad” I said to him, and to this he nodded

He started to kiss my neck and the valley of my breast as he started to travel his hand down to my pussy. Collecting my arousal and spreading it around some more

“God you’re so wet” he said as he continued to rub, and all I could do was moan and whimper lowly for him

He pulled his fingers away and spat on them to lubricate them some more. He placed them back on my vagina and continued to rub my clit as my legs spread wider for him

Slowly he pushed his middle finger in. As it kept going in I felt the burn from the stretch of his finger. I had fingered myself before but this was a different stretch. Matt’s fingers were thicker and longer

My eyebrows furrowed in pain and pleasure as he got his finger all the way in. Slowly he started to go in and out pushing up against my G spot in a come here motion

“Fuck Matt” I whimpered lowly

“I know baby” he said, kissing my lips as he slid the second finger in. This one I felt the pain the most. I gasped loudly and bit down on my hand

“I’m sorry. It will go away pretty girl” he said pushing both fingers in again.

Matt was taking his time fingering me and stretching me for him. I told him I wanted to cum on his dick, so to not take the fingering too far

“You think you’re ready for all of me” he asked as he pulled his fingers out

“Yes Matt” i told him running my hands down from his chest to his bulge and giving it a light squeeze

Matt had removed his pajama bottoms and his underwear. He pumped his cock a few times, and then lightly spat on it to lubricate it some more. This made Y/N even more wet just watching this beauty of a man touch himself infront of her

“Okay baby this will hurt, but it will go away, and if it’s too much I’ll stop okay” Matt asked rubbing her cheek with his hand

“Okay Matt. I trust you I’m ready” she said as she held onto both his arms as he leaned over her.

He brought one hand down to guide his dick to her entrance. Slowly he pushed his tip in. Y/N let out a small cry in pain as this was a new stretch for her

“Fuck Matt this hurts” she said opening her eyes to look him in the eyes

“Do you want me to stop” he asked her, looking back at her. She shook her head no, and he slowly kept pushing himself into her while kissing her so he could silence her winces

At this point Matt was all the way in and was getting adjusted to Y/N. She nodded at him to let her know he could move

So Matt started slowly moving in and out of the girl. Allowing her to feel all of him as his dick hit her G spot

“Fuck Matt” she whined as he hit her g spot once more

“Shhh baby i know” he said breathing heavily

Matt was continuing his slow and steady strokes. He moved a little faster, but mostly he was focusing on slow deep thrusts to allow Y/N to feel the most pleasure. At this point Matt was sweating and breathing heavily. He really wanted to be a moaning whimpering mess for her, but he couldn’t risk waking anybody up. He snakes his hand down to her clit to allow her more pleasure so she could cum.

Y/N let out a loud moan and Matt quickly put his hand over her mouth to silence her, and to this she moaned again letting her eyes roll to the back of her head as he kept pounding into her and rubbing her clit

After 10 more minutes of deep strong thrusts Matt started to feel her clench around him, so he knew she was close.

“Matt I’m going to cum” she said looking up at him all fucked out. Hair sticking to her forehead and her body glistening with sweat

“I know baby. I know” Matt said rubbing her clit faster and thrusting deeper and harder

“Fuck Matt fuck fuck fuck” she said as she clenched down harder, and with this she came all over his cock. Her brows were furrowed together and her mouth was hung open as she let out silent screams. Her body was shaking and trembling, her thighs were shaking as she saw white flashes of ecstasy. She slowly came down from her high with heavy breathing and Matt pulled out. Stroking his own cock over her

“Can I?” He asked her as he was stroking harder

“Please Matt cum for me” she said to him, and that was all it took for his brows to furrow and his mouth to fall slack as his lower abdomen contracted, and he was painting her stomach with white hot strings of cum.

As he came down from his high his breathing was deep and shallow. He grabbed his shirt and wiped her stomach clean. Falling down to the left of her and allowing the blanket to cover them.

“God Y/N you’re so gorgeous I’m in love with you” Matt said as he looked down at her. Propped up on one arm as he looks into her eyes wiping the hair off her forehead

“Matt this was all I could ever ask for. I love you so much” she said weakly looking at him

“I love you too” he said, giving her a kiss on the lips.

She turned into his chest, and they eventually fell asleep together

8AM

Around 8AM Nick and Chris came downstairs and walked to the living room to see a sizzling out fireplace, and a naked Y/N and Matt sleeping together wrapped in a blanket. They both looked at one another wide eyed

“MATT WAKE UP” Chris said kicking Matt’s foot, and to this he jumped up to, also waking up Y/N

“OH SHIT” Y/N said covering herself with the blanket

“What the fuck happened here” Chris said

“Uhhh” Matt said looking over at me

“YALL WAS FUCKIN” Nick said trying to contain his excitement

“I fucking knew y’all liked each other” Chris said kind of jumping like a kid

“Although this is so cute and yall are so cute together. Please get up and put some clothes on” Nick said laughing

Chris went to grab Matt’s shirt when Matt interrupted him

“DONT touch that shirt” Matt kind of yelled

“Why not?” Chris asked scared and concerned

“It has my cum all over it” Matt said bluntly

“MATT!” Y/N said smacking him on the arm

“DUDE WTF” Chris said running away

“That’s actually disgusting” Nick said giggling like a little kid and kicking the shirt away

Matt and Y/N got up to get cleaned up and ready for the day, and finish the rest of their weekend get away.

The End

I think my next ones going to be a Nick with a female reader but it’s going to be a friendship imagine🥰🥹

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #Spotify

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milliesdiary · 2 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you’re a general's pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress — and kiss him.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness ✨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :”) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s father’s descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture ♡

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.

Not like any other woman, at least. You’re strong-willed. Unshakeable. Not as naïve.

As a child, you made mud pies, climbed trees, and kicked boys who made fun of you for acting unladylike. You would return to your parents with grime under your nails, grass stains on your pants, and a twinkle in your eyes. Blood never bothered you; you could get slashed open, bruised, and filthy, yet still make it home.

Maybe it was because of your father — a stubborn general hardened by war, with a sharp way of speaking and a stern sentiment. He taught you the way of the sword at the age of 9, and instilled you with a sense of discipline. Not once did he try to force you into the stereotypes of being a woman; the fancy clothes, the manners, the expectation to give birth at any chance possible.

That’s just not you.

You're not the kind of girl who crumbles beneath the weight of insults, who loses her mind, who cries. You give the same treatment to those who hurt you. You are Bloody Mary, the venomous spider, the wicked snake. You are a creature that can wander through flames without getting burned.

So no, you are not like the other women.

And the townsfolk are always willing to remind you.

The second you step onto the training grounds, all eyes are on you, and there’s an intense discomfort at how they look you up and down.

They are taking in your appearance; your black flowy cape, leather pants, and the tunic cinched at your waist to match. It’s not the style they are used to seeing, comprised of silk dresses and chiffon gowns.

People gossip about how you could steal the hearts of every man in Westeros if you just put on a skirt — if you sat with your legs crossed, prim and proper. If you smiled more often.

“Such a waste of a pretty girl,” they whisper.

How stupid.

You shrug away their stares and try to focus on something else.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for sparring; the November sunlight veils the world in a golden shawl, and the cool air is sweet as a mandarin. The temperature has risen enough so that you can train without getting numb or going home with an earache from the wind.

You’re more than ready for a fight, to get your hands soiled and feel sweat bead down your face.

Walking over to a table where swords and blades of all kinds are spread along the surface, you feel that familiar rush of excitement. You’re about to grab a dagger until you hear someone call your name.

It’s Ser Criston. He walks over, armor clicking with every stride and gleaming in the autumn sun, only to stop beside you. “I was waiting for when I would see you again. Have you come to train?”

“Of course,” you say simply. “Did you expect any less?”

“Maybe not,” the knight replies, an accepting expression on his face. He knows that you enjoy playing dirty.

Luckily, you and Ser Cristin get along. He is outside a lot of the time helping to train the others, so it was not unusual that you both talked from time to time. You aren’t sure if he is bothered by your lack of femininity, but he never mentions it, so you do not mind him.

You focus your attention back to the blades, picking up a particularly sharp sword. You weigh it in your hands; the grey metal is dense and heavy, brand new. Your reflection stares back at you in the steel. Ser Criston catches your hum of satisfaction.

“That sword was gilded just days ago. A work of art,” He nods.

“Indeed it is,” you agree. Then you smile knowingly at him. “Is there anyone I can spar with?”

Ser Criston responds with a curt nod. Admiration dances in his brown eyes; he’s definitely not like the others. “Plenty.”

Eager, you follow Ser Criston to the patch of land reserved for sword fighting. People are gathered in a circle around two men who are already sparring; the crowd cheers, made up of men who are desperate to make a good impression and women who have come to watch.

You glance at the pair of individuals who are currently engaged in a duel, following their sharp steps as they parry each other’s hits. You remain near the back of the crowd, bringing the tip of your sword to the ground and resting both hands on the hilt.

You’re trying to act casual — but you’re actually itching for your turn. Impatient.

The fight turns out to be pretty boring. You’re able to guess every move before it’s done and correct every miscalculated block inside your head. It might be unfair to judge them so harshly; you’re a skilled fighter and have trained for years. The advantage is yours.

But you also can’t bring yourself to care. These are the same men who boast about their power despite being weak.

You’re genuinely relieved when one of the men knocks the other down, leveling their sword at their opponent’s face. The people around you clap for awhile, and then the crowd slowly breaks apart as some leave to continue their duties.

It’s fine; you don’t need the validation of a crowd during a match.

“Alright,” you say gruffly, ripping your sword from the dirt and skirting through the gaps of people, stepping onto the sandy soil of the sparring area. You turn to face a few of the trainees’ expectant faces. They are waiting for you to choose someone, though all of them seem pathetic. Might as well get it over with.

“Would you like to duel?” You finally ask a man toward the front.

For a second, he remains still. And then he smiles; fucking smirks like he’s a serpent and you’re a lamb ensnared between its teeth. He thinks you’re an easy opponent, all because you’re a woman.

Beating him is going to feel good, you think. Beating all of them.

Balancing the sword in a hand, you spit into the dirt just to spite him — which is successful in making multiple people cringe. Good. You have to bite back a smile and prepare yourself for your opponent’s first strike.

And you were right, of course.

They’re all useless, each more powerless than the last. There’s no challenge, no threat. Not even child’s play with any of them. You have more than half of your competitors on their asses before they even get an opportunity to attack, making every clang of your sword against another seem meaningless.

You ought to take pride in it, thinking back to their breathy chuckles as they whispered about how deluded you were. How unwomanly.

But you don’t. You don't feel prideful, self satisfied, or any emotion of fulfillment. It’s too easy.

The blows from your adversary are repetitive, almost as if he is rehearsing a list of strategies. The movements are easy to predict, giving you the upper hand. It’s not difficult to knock him on the ground, sweeping his legs out from beneath him with a blow that you wish he would have jumped over.

There is someone who definitely would have dodged it, though.

The enigma, the cunning raven, the Prince — Aemond Targaryen. The one man who doesn’t judge you or stare condescendingly. The only person who you consider an equal, an acquaintance.

Aemond is a man of honor. His eye is the shade of lavender, and every syllable that falls from his tongue is sliced apart by the sharp quirk of his lips. High cheekbones, fair skin, an eyepatch making a home over a scar that sits where his eyelid once was.

A dark serpent.

Just as you struggle with your identity, he does, too. You are aware of Aemond’s lack of restraint, lack of faith, lack of fear, and his internal conflict. You know why the man is the way he is.

Aemond had told you what happened once, after you had finished having a nice conversation with his nephews. It’s tragic: when a person doesn't feel valued as a member of a family, they develop a sort of outcast mentality. Childhood experiences of neglect paves the way for lifelong isolation, and as a result, Aemond withdrew. He started spending time alone.

But out of every person in the world, he chose to keep a spot open for you. It’s an honor, really.

The man you are sparring with gives in, standing to his feet with a grunt of humiliation and shooting you a glare. You return it with one of your own, ready to pick another opponent, and then—

“You have been busy, I see,” A familiar voice says.

You turn toward the sound of it, the lull and the accent — only to be met with Aemond standing in the front of the crowd. You size him up, sword dangling at your side.

Aemond’s arms are crossed behind his back in a casual fashion, head held high with interest. His white hair is in a half-up half-down style, the ends flowing over his broad shoulders like a silk scarf.

“My Prince.” There’s no stopping the grin that blooms on your lips. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you always find excitement in his presence. “Dare I ask how long you have been watching?”

“Long enough.” Aemond is silent as he scans you up and down; there’s not a single streak of dirt on you, nor a single cut. He takes notice. “Pray tell: how many men have you made fools of?”

“I don’t know,” you dramatically sigh, acting indifferent. You retreat from the center of the sparring ground to stand in front of him. “I have not had the luxury to count. I was too busy winning.”

Aemond exhales a sharp breath from his nose — his way of conveying amusement — and slightly tilts his head. “It seems that they have not prepared themselves for a woman of your caliber.”

It’s a compliment; a bit cheeky, yes, but a compliment nonetheless. It has you rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. “A woman of my caliber? I must say, My Prince, I am flattered.”

“I would not say it unless it were true.”

“Well, if it is of any comfort, you are not like any man I have ever known," you jibe. "You're like a character in a folktale. Someone from a history book.”

"The prince, I presume."

"No, you're the dragon. A magnificently evil dragon." Your tone becomes teasing. “How could anyone lead a regular life with a beast like you?”

“I should inquire the same, My Lady.”

“You just don’t understand a woman that dares to be different, that’s all.”

Aemond lets out a simple ‘hmm’ at that. You slap him in the arm playfully and he doesn’t flinch. He only graces you with the tiniest smirk.

The prince does not enjoy being touched, though the aversion seems to disappear when it comes to you. He can tell; he knows by how he does not scowl at the idea of your hand on his shoulder, or cringe at the feeling of your arm brushing against his. You do not give off negative energy.

Perhaps this is why you have remained in contact with each other; you don’t judge one another for the things you are and for the things you can’t be. Somewhere, deep down, you both think the same thing: take me as I am, or watch my back as I go.

You know of Aemond’s true nature, and he realizes yours.

Much like him, you cannot be picked and thrown away like a flower or an old manuscript. You are a hurricane: ferocious, unflinching, and authentic. A dagger that will slice through the flesh of anyone who dares to cross you.

Though he will not publicly admit it, your spunkiness delights him.

“Come then,” Aemond says.

You’re confused at his words — unsure of what he’s talking about — before he saunters to the center of the sparring circle. He brandishes his sword from a holster wrapped around his hip, the metal screeching into the air. “We have yet to train together. Demonstrate your skills to me.”

It’s true. In the years you’ve known him, you have never once challenged each other. You know what Aemond is capable of though, so it’s intimidating. It’s probably the main reason you have never asked to spar.

Maybe it’s time to change that; you’re not about to back down from a fight. It would hurt your pride too much.

“Fine,” you agree, slinking forward to stand before him in the training area.

There’s so much you want to know about Aemond, you notice. So much that you’d like to learn. Your gaze is focused on his face, and his eye, and then that eyepatch — and you realize that he has never showed you what’s underneath the leather.

You’ve heard the rumors: how the socket has been replaced by a sapphire, a deep, saturated blue that reflects the light at every angle. You wish so badly to see it. For him to trust you with the imperfect parts of him.

It gives you an idea.

“I will spar with you,” you begin, maintaining a serious tone in your voice. “But only if we make a bet.”

The look on Aemond's face changes from being neutral to intrigued. He slices the earth open by shoving his sword into the soil. “And what would that be, My Lady?”

“If I win,” you quip, “you must show me your eye.”

The silence is deafening.

Aemond frowns then. You’re scared for a second; scared that you went too far and bit off more than you could chew.

Looking back on the past can be very frustrating. You have to let it go, you want to tell his younger self, clapping him on the back. If you did that, he might get angry. Or maybe cry. Maybe you would, too.

You open your mouth to revoke the words, yet close it just as quick, unable to get a single syllable out.

But then he speaks.

“Then it shall be,” Aemond says firmly. He leans his weight on his sword, crossing one ankle over the other. You aren’t sure if he actually doesn’t care or if he’s just hiding his anger. He’s always been an expert at keeping his emotions at bay. “If that is what you wish.”

Relief is a godsend in that moment. You fix your surprised expression into one that is more calm. “…And if you win?”

Aemond seems to think it over.

Finally, he decides on something; with the mischief that glints in that one eye, you know it’s going to be less than satisfactory. “I propose you wear a dress for an entire day.”

“What? There’s no way—“

“And kiss me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

Is this how he plans on winning? By threatening you with something so strange in the hopes that you will give up before you started? Like hell you’re going to kiss him. Fuck that. “You cannot be serious.”

“But I am,” he says coolly. Taunting.

In that moment, you consider your options. One, you could retreat. Two, you could fight him and win, effectively seeing the thing he hides most. Third, you could lose, and have to wear a dress, and…

The thought has you reeling. But, at the same time, you do not want to run away from a challenge. You never have. And never, ever will.

You’ll just have to win.

“It is settled then,” you nod, trying to remain composed. Your voice wavers a bit; if Aemond notices, he does not comment on it.

Aemond’s mouth creeps into the slightest smile. He tears his sword from the earth and spins it in the air with a flick of his wrist. “Whenever you are ready, then,” he deadpans.

“I have been ready,” you tease, stepping sideways as you both begin to circle each other. Your footsteps are light and airy in a silent prowl, a show of the expertise your father passed to you. “Are you?”

“The first to hold the other at sword-point wins,” Aemond states, ignoring your question. There’s a sharpness to his words as he tries to draw a reaction from you. Provoke you. “I hope you do not hold back.”

“You must think lowly of me, My Prince,” You retort. “I would never do such a thing. Are you worried that I am going to beat you at your own game?”

Aemond licks his lips, fixing you with a predatory stare; it looks as if he wants to use his canines to rip apart the air, the world, your body that stands before him.

It urges you into action.

You lunge with your sword, but Aemond knocks it to the side with ease, spinning his own in a hand and making a swipe at you.

You don’t hesitate to deflect it — once, twice, three times — before parrying another of his blows. You manage to hit Aemond’s sword particularly hard the fourth time, and you catch a glint of surprise in his eye.

You take a quick step back, before confidently transferring your blade from one hand to the other without breaking eye contact. Your head is buzzing with exhilaration.

“Did you think it would be that simple?” You grin arrogantly. “As a man who studies the way of the sword, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

To your chagrin, Aemond doesn’t gift you with a reaction. His profile remains composed, although there is a fire in his eye; he has finally found someone who tests him.

You are about to say something else before he lunges for you.

Aemond is fast and skilled, the swiftness of his steps impressive, with a strength in his arms that could send you to the ground if you gave him an opening. With every clash of your swords, you know he’s evaluating your endurance, your attacks, the likelihood of you slashing him with your blade.

However, Aemond is not attempting to boast his power; not like the other trainees who argue like idiots about whose sword is the sharpest or who has the best balance. That’s what you like about him.

Aemond’s jaw is set and confidence keeps his chin held high, even as you deliver another strike to his blade. Your attention is drawn to the way his knuckles are white from the grip on his sword; veins protrude from the pretty skin of his hands, emphasizing the slender length of his fingers.

Focus.

Strike. Block. Dodge. Slash again. You score another hit, but Aemond follows it immediately with a jab at your chest, which has you losing your balance. You respond with a stab at his side, though he dodges it.

This dance of blades feels like it lasts forever; if it were anyone else, you probably would have won by now. Every second feels like a minute, each one longer than the last.

Just before a leap, Aemond tightens his grip on the weapon’s hilt. Before you can react and fix your stance, the sword swings towards your feet, his speed and skill working together to knock you off-balance. You land on your back in the dirt, your blade flying somewhere.

You’re fast, yes. But he is faster.

Quickly you try lift yourself up and grapple for it, but suddenly Aemond pushes you back down. He straddles you, careful not to place his entire weight on your body, and then the pointed edge of his blade is at your throat.

You’ve lost.

Aemond lets out a breathy pant, a wicked grin on his lips — it sends a chill branching down your spine, all the way to your feet. Spite coils in your chest, your nerves trembling with adrenaline, and you see the thrill of the fight reflected in Aemond’s eye.

You are both the same in that way.

“You do put up quite a fight,” Aemond jests, his tone low and deep. You let both arms lay flat across the ground, every breath labored as your heart punches the inside of your ribcage. “Though I am afraid it was not enough.”

You've never experienced energy like this before. You’re trapped underneath him which is exciting in a strange way. You respond with sarcasm in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You offer to spar with a woman only to fling her into the dirt,” you pant. “How polite of you.”

“And you spar with a dragon.” Up close, Aemond’s iris is a startling violet, and the pupil reflects streaks of shadow and light. He’s agonizingly gorgeous. It makes you feel warm. “Is that not what you called me?”

“You are a man of the most preposterous kind.”

“And yet you still wallow in my company.”

There’s nothing you can really say about that. In a final act of defiance, you stare him down as long as possible; in this small way, you feel undefeated. “You can release me now.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, letting his sword hang at his side and slowly standing. In a rare act, the prince offers a hand for you to take, but you slap it away. He is entertained by your glare. “You never fail to reject kindness when it is given.”

“Kindness does not serve me.”

Aemond is amused at your annoyance. He spins his sword between his fingers before sheathing it back into its holster, and you pick up your sword to pass it to an observing knight. When you turn back around, Aemond is staring at you. “What?”

“You owe me a debt.”

There was the bet; you’d almost forgot. Gods, you were going to have to wear a dress for a day, and — and…

“Regretting your choices now?” The taught line of Aemond’s mouth evolves into a smile, coy and demure.

“No — no, of course not,” you snap. The words don’t come out as calm as you need them to, and it’s all because of him; he has a way of being frustrating. Always doing something to make you tighten your fists. But as much as you would like to blame him, it was your idea. You reap what you sow. “I never break a promise.”

“Good,” comes Aemond’s response. You both stare at each other for a bit, and then you realize: he’s waiting for you to kiss him. For real. Right here, right now.

“What is wrong, little bird?” He teases. “Do not fly away from me now.”

“I—“ you start, unsure of what to do. A split-second decision is made. “I am not doing this here.”

Before Aemond can say anything, you are grabbing him by the arm and tugging him along. You pull him past clusters of townsfolk, ignoring their curious stares and keeping your gaze forward. He does not resist you.

After peering around an empty alley and inspecting it for any stragglers, you drag him into the stony darkness and nearly slam him against the wall. It’s not on purpose; you’re just reacting to the aftershocks of adrenaline.

You need to be alone to do something like this.

You’re so close to Aemond now that you’re breathing the same air as him, nearly pressed against his chest. You can smell his jasmine shampoo, can feel the warmth radiating from his body. You try to slow your breathing: in and out, to clear your head and push every doubt away.

When you find the courage to look straight at Aemond, you find that he’s already gazing at you.

The light is dim, though you can still make out his profile. You expect his violet eye to be full of mirth, akin to a wild animal staring back at its prey — but what Aemond offers you is righteous and noble. It causes you to prickle with eagerness and anxiety.

“Do not look at me like that,” you mumble.

“In what way?”

“That way.” You don’t even know what you’re referring to. You just want him to stop staring; it’s burning you up from the inside. “You always act like this when you feel like you have won.”

Aemond’s smirk grows before your eyes. His gaze flickers to the sliver of space between you, and then back to your face. “Sometimes I feel that you know me better than I know myself.”

You would let out a sneer if you weren’t so terrified; you need to uphold your side of the bet. You know it. And you definitely don’t want to give him the chance to tease you for your hesitation.

“Maybe I do,” you breathe. Then, grappling with every single piece of boldness you can find, you press your lips upon Aemond’s.

The kiss is resolute — there’s no way you were going to half-ass it — and you fall into him roughly, slamming each emotion you feel onto his mouth. He tenses a little, but then his hands rise to your arms, thumbs pressing into the sleeves of your tunic.

And then it’s over.

You break away from Aemond, almost shocked at yourself. Did that really just happen? Your blood pressure is through the roof, pulse thumping like a war drum.

You stare at him, and he stares right on back, both of you saying nothing. You can't look away, as frightened as you are. His expression is soft. So soft that it scares you, yet his eye darkens with interest.

You try to make a joke out of it, to rid yourself of this awkward feeling.

“With the way you are looking at me, My Prince, I would assume you actually like me,” you jest. It doesn’t work. Your brain is mush and the words are flimsy. Gods, you feel overheated.

Aemond only blinks, those silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks. It seems like he has come to a realization, and you don’t know what that is. He’s testing the waters; waiting to see if you will run away.

“And what then, My Lady?” he finally replies.

Your body gets hotter in an instant. The implications behind his words are enthralling, holding you in a death grip and making it impossible to speak. You’re searching for something to say, anything, but come up empty handed. Part of you is glad when he fills the silence.

“I must admit,” Aemond says slowly. “There is a certain quality to you. You seem unbreakable.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Though there are times where I am not so certain.”

“Aemond…”

“Tell me: what do you think of me?” Aemond suddenly asks. It’s not commanding, not a demand. It just feels…personal. You’re not sure how else to describe it, the sound of him speaking so softly. Your ears are accustomed to your father's stern instructions and peoples’ jeers of your boyish antics. His tone sultry, he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

“No—you don’t make me nervous,” you stutter. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the lie comes from your lips. “I do not really think of you much, honestly.”

“Hm.” Whether or not Aemond knows you’re lying, you have no idea. “You would be astonished then if you knew the ways I have thought about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Aemond takes in your expression, gaze flitting down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” you say automatically. You’re not sure why you’re hoping for something more — something other than just empty insults and jests. Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, Aemond leans in. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks.

“You are alluring when you ache for chaos. The flesh of your opponents are beneath your nails and their blood stains your teeth, and I can see you are a woman on fire.” His voice just above a whisper, breath hot against your cheek. “We are both made of flame. You have stolen my attention, my love.”

My love. He has never called you that before.

And it’s in this very second that you have an epiphany. How could you not have noticed it earlier? Felt it? How did you ignore the passion whenever this man talked, the warmth he conjured within you, how grateful you were that he treated you differently than others?

Aemond has feelings for you. And judging by how you are instantly filled with a massive amount of satisfaction, happiness, and excitement, you hold affections for him too.

But what is love, anyway? It must be the imprints someone creates inside of you—bruises, scars, gashes. Maybe he had maimed you in the same way, except you turned a blind eye to it. Truthfully, you never even thought you would experience something like this.

After all, love makes humans do terrible things, and you do not consider yourself to be that bloodthirsty. So much of it is violent; there’s the desire to be split apart, defiled, twisted, and reinvented by another person.

You have seen lovers approach one another in a wolflike manner, ravenous and feral for their attention. People who challenge their love get dragged in between them and flayed open without mercy. It’s terrifying, though it’s not watching the wolves tear others apart that scares you.

It’s knowing that you would do that for him.

Aemond boldly stares you down. “You are unaware to the extent I defend myself and my sentiments. How you manage to get the truth from me is rather peculiar.”

He suddenly reaches out and touches your cheek; he does it slowly, almost as if you are a beast trapped in a snare and he might scare you away.

Then Aemond moves his thumb to the corner of your mouth, before skimming it over your bottom lip and pulling it down slightly. He stares down at the inside of your lip — the sensitive, shiny flesh — wishing that he could brand his name there. If anyone tried to entertain you after, you could simply tug your lip down and show them who you belonged to.

This is not a simple bet anymore.

The urge to kiss Aemond again breaks free from within your system. Against your control, the impulse expresses itself in dirty thoughts that invade the most intimate parts of your body.

Quickly, you grab Aemond’s wrist and tug his hand away so you can press your lips to his once more.

“I hate you,” you breathe against him, holding his face between your hands as your noses brush together. “I hate you so much.”

Aemond retaliates accordingly; the way he licks into your mouth sends a shiver that ricochets throughout your body. He’s hot. So, so hot. His fingers cup the back of your neck to keep you close as your hands fly away from his face to hold every inch of him possible.

Aemond’s chest is warm, and his lips are scorching when he trails them over the corner of your mouth and then down your throat. You let your fingers roam to his hair, exploring the softness of each strand that drapes over his shoulder blades.

Aemond knows he’s getting a reaction out of you, that you are starting to feel the prickle of lust. It’s humiliating. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you can be riled up so easily. It is not like Aemond would give in to your primal desires anyway; he cares too much about duty, about honor. The man follows house tradition — marriage comes before anything else. He is just toying with you now.

You break apart from him, something he surprisingly allows. You want to tell him that you love him, just so he knows. If only you had the ability to articulate such things.

“Is this all you wanted?” You ask instead. “A kiss from me?”

Aemond places his hands on your elbows to coax you back a bit further; he wishes to see you entirely. His hand then rises to your cheek, where his thumb strokes at the underside of your jaw. “I did not want just a kiss, darling,” he reassures.

“And for how long have you been thinking like this?” You steel yourself and continue more quietly. “How long have you loved me?”

“Since the boar hunt,” Aemond says without hesitation. “You begged your mother to let you join, and a girl said you might as well be a townsboy. You tackled her to the ground.”

“But that was the day we met.”

“It was.”

“…That is…quite a long time.”

Aemond only hums at that. The confession makes your heart flutter and threaten it to stop; you swallow down his words, grateful, and then try to collect yourself. You clear your throat. “My Prince—”

“Aemond,” he corrects.

“Aemond. I need you to know something.”

“And what is that, my love?”

“You can’t sweet talk me into wearing a dress. I will not do it.”

“You will.”

Damn it. He is really not going to give this up.

“I hope you burn in the Seven Hells,” you mutter. It’s a joke, of course. You can’t really be mad at him.

Aemond’s lips threaten to twitch into a smile. An emotion akin to pride rests in his eye. “I shall only go if you accompany me there.”

And maybe, just maybe, you were meant to burn together. Whatever your destiny is, one thing becomes very clear:

You will ruin him, and he will love you for it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #millie’s works — 📓

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wandixx · 4 months

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Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 2

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 1 794

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Of new names and teasing

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part

Duke knew that Dani was in their agreed meeting point, he even vaguely knew where she was floating but not much more. She used her invisibility, which was weird since she knew it didn't work correctly on him. It was fifth time they met, of course they knew.

"Hey Signal, remember how you said that I need a codename if we're going to hang out in future and that all my previous ideas were horrible names?" a disembodied girly voice asked. Duke smiled. Ever since he raised the idea, the girl would come up with ridiculous names to be called, proposing them with absolutely straight face. It was expected from someone who thought Dani Phantom was a good alias. It didn't make her ideas any less amusing.

"Of course I do. Whatcha got for me today?"

"Alright, since you don't let me be a name stealer, I decided to take a sheet from local nightlife's notebook–"

"You mean take a leaf from their book?" He was sure she was rolling her eyes on him, but it didn't stop him. No one could maim English language like that with him around.

"Whatever. I chose to steal their idea and became a bird. It's only fair since I can actually fly!"

"Can't exactly disagree. So, what did you get this time?"

"You'll like that, I promise. But now, I introduce to you…"

Duke got ready to shut down every Robin iteration and all Birdgirls he could think of.

"HOOPOE!" Dani yelled, popping back to the visible spectrum. She was covered in bright orange cape with weirdly shaped hood and flimsy mask "I even did some costume changes to fit the name better–" in all honesty, one, yeah, he wasn't blind he realized, two, he needed a moment to remember how these birds looked (his first thought was 'wait it's a thing?!'). But then he got it and yeah, those were funny little creatures, just like Dani. It fitted her "–so even if you don't like it, it doesn't matter," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Duke patted her on the head. He was there, he knew it mattered.

"It's a great name Hoopoe"

Dani visibly though probably unconsciously, relaxed. Her mouth curved into a proud grin and her aura brightened. Normal auras didn't do that. He got used to Dani surprising him like that sometimes.

"Of course it's great, I made it."

Duke chose to not remind her about almost two dozen times she came up with absolutely not great names or about the fact that technically she didn't quite make this one either. He wasn't in such a petty mood. Maybe in future if he needed blackmail.

Oh, it was such a Bat thing, wasn't it? He needed to spend some more time with his civilian to get it out of himself, he liked his ability to interact with normal people in a healthy way.

"Wait, is your mask a paper?"

"What else could it be, titanium?"

"If you stop three muggings on the next three patrols each I'll get you a better one, okay?"

"Hey, my mask is perfectly fine"

"Yeah, but it can tear too easily. I can get you a mask that is more sturdy."

"Aha."

"It's the same material every Robin and Nightwing wear…"

"Don't care, my mask is flawless"

"..."

"Okay, better mask would be cool"

***

On the third patrol Dani joined, about a week and a half ago, they exchanged numbers. Duke knew how hard it was to come to terms with new powers on one's own and God strike him with a lightning or something if he ever lets anyone go through similar bullshit. Especially since she didn't seem to have anyone taking care of her. Girl her age shouldn't be able to hang out or respond to messages within ten minutes at any given time. Only twice she didn't do that, because she was on a celebrity hunt for autographs as she later explained. He would be teased endlessly if any Wayne or their associate learned about it, but he considered introducing Dani to Bruce. She needed help, okay?! He didn't inherit adoption tendencies.

But he hadn't done that, partially because he didn't want to scare Dani off and partially because of fear of teasing. And bet. Because of course in the meantime somehow there happened a bet.

He smirked at the video Dani sent as a response to the hydration check. She was tossing a coin and playing an elimination game to pick one juice from eight drinks she had. Steph jumped over the back of the couch to join him. At the start she was in front of him so to do that she had to run around the furniture but such minor inconveniences couldn't even wish to stop her dramatics.

"You're smiling at your phone ergo you either text your secret girlfriend/boyfriend/enbyfriend or watch memes. Show me the memes," she demanded, nudging him in the arm. Duke chuckled.

"Wrong guess. I'm texting my sidekick," they agreed it would be a funny way to introduce Dani to people who asked. Duke tried his best at this whole having sidekick thing anyway. As well as he could without help from other Bats because of this damn bet.

Steph froze for a moment.

"Your what–"

"And the lucky winner is… an apple with mint juice! Damn I really hoped it would be lemonade," Dani from the video announced cheerfully before opening the bottle" Shame it didn't make it past semi-finals. Happy hydration break. I'm going on an autograph hunt so I may not respond for the next two hours or so. Wish me luck, bye~"

Duke paused the video before it replayed. He glanced at Steph who finally rebooted.

"How come you got a kid and I learned about it just now?"

“In my defense I'm like 60% sure you're the second person in the family to learn about her. Depends if Tim got his ‘I have to know everything, gotta check body cams’ paranoid spree in the last two weeks or not. There was no teasing from Babs or anyone else if I'm being honest and no lecture from B, so they have no idea.”

“First was Alfred?”

“First was Alfred. I still don't know how.”

“That's our grandtler for you. You are forgiven but you have to tell me everything about her,” Steph demanded excitedly. “And show me the photos''

Duke snorted.

“She goes by Hoopoe and is about Damian's age. She can tell you her real name when B inevitably finds out and tries to interrogate her.”

“What if Spoiler drops by during the day?”

“You can try but give it another week and a day, okay?”

“Why?”

“We have bet that I'll hide her from B for three weeks. Tomorrow is the end of the second week. We both know how he is, he'll have questions if you randomly show up during the day."

"Stakes?"

"Speedster worth of winners favorite Batburger meal, 2 quarts of chosen drink and cookies"

"Valid. I ain't snitch, but I want to know more. Is she a meta?”

"Yeah. Powers I know of are invisibility, intangibility, superspeed, enhanced hearing and flight. Probably more. I think she already had some training with it because she has quite amazing control over this stuff. Like, it comes naturally to her. But her hand to hand is atrocious."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Omg, you totally are! Don't be, she is just a baby with a better idea of what's going on with her powers than you have with yours. There is nothing to be mad about Duke, it's okay Duke–"

"Keep going and I won't tell you anything about her," he dared, trying not to snort.

"Sorry, sorry, you're doing great, please continue," she nudged his arm again "Don't be such softie, dude" He stared at her at the comment, disbelief clear on his face. Steph at least then looked a little ashamed "Okay, sorry. You're honestly doing far better than any of us would. Excluding Cass and Alfred."

"Excluding Cass and Alfred," he agreed easily enough.

"So, you think your kid has some training with her powers," she recalled eagerly.

"Yeah, probably from when she was helping her cousin. He is a hero in Amity Park, Illinois, his name is Phantom. It took very little digging even though Hoopoe does her best to stay mysterious. I swear this kid has no brain-mouth filter. But! I got my second shovel talk from her cousin!”

“The what?”

“After a week of hanging out with her, I got message on Signal’s twitter from Phantom that basically read as ‘I have nothing against you, really dude I’m a fan but here is list of my most powerful enemies, and let me tell you, there were some scarily powerful guys there, I won with all of them, if something bad happens to Hoopoe I can and will destroy you.’ After some research, yes, I think he could try and have considerable chance of success. Even if he didn’t fight would be painful enough to be a lesson. He and Hoopoe have the same powers and she worked with him for some time. She most likely learned then. She was called Dani Phantom, boy went by Danny Phantom then”

“Dear gods, their aliases were so horrible, who even let them go with it?! Are those their first names?!” Steph sounded genuinely offended by it.

“I don’t know,” Yeah, he knew, but he preferred to keep at least this secret to himself ”In boy's defense, because Hoopoe came much later, he was fourteen and Amity went to shit really fast, so alias was probably not his first concern. And it’s much better than Invioso-bill, name he was given by the press. And he uses some intense gaslighting to make people believe it’s just Phantom now. And allegedly they’re both ghosts. Apparently ghosts don’t exactly have secret identity”

“You doubt it”

“You would too. She eats, she breathes and she is tangible by default. From what I know, ghosts don’t do that”

“They don’t, I checked. I went on a research spree when I first learned about Deadman. I just thought it was so cool you know. Ghosts being real and all,” Steph leaned towards him, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Really?” he asked, knowing what he was getting into.

“Yeah, you see…”

And on she went, releasing expected infodump as if she waited for this opportunity ever since she first read about it.

********

Some additional name getting shenanigans

Signal: I won't call you Dani in the field

Dani: Why?

Signal: Ever heard of secret identity? Name is, like, half of it. Disguise is other half but it can be exchanged with lore. Superman made it work. Just make up enough lore for people to not question it.

Dani: Oh, okay *gremlin^2 mode activated*

Random they just rescued: And who are you little one?

Dani: *looking them dead in the eyes* I am clone of dead child hero, travelling around the world to find identity separated from my template befre mistakes made during my creation make me turn into puddle of primordal liquid and my conciousness fades forever

Random: *petrified* What?

Signal: *internally* I have miscalculated

Dani: Kid Signal

Signal: No.

Dani: It works in Central

Signal: We're not in Central

Dani: Signalgirl

Dani: I mean, Batgirl exists

Signal: No.

Dani: Monochromatic Signal. Y'know, Red Robin route?

Signal: ...

Signal: Just no. Don't make my name part of your name

Next part

Do you want to see some Hoopoe doodles I made? There were redesigns!!!

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he doesn't even know it yet #not fully at least #Dani: *barerly visible over the counter* Where can I find books about orange birds?#Babs: *gives her directions*#Babs: Why do I feel like it was significant encounter?#Dani's cape was in fact a blanket #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— just for tonight, i don’t hate you + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — when there’s a bounty over your head and a reward for your safe return to your soon-to-be husband and future king, touya todoroki… you should be mindful of who you fall for. you should pretend to hate the man who seeks the prize money you’d bring. and the dragon prince, katsuki bakugou, should probably do the same.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, angst, arguments, one-bed trope, enemies to lovers, love confessions, arranged marriages, fingering, marking, biting, scratching creampies, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, slight!infidelity, fantasy!au, fem!reader, dragon prince!bakugou.

⭑ words — 2.8K.

⭑ notes — happy valentine’s day my sweets!! here’s a precious little fic for you, a commission from the darling @peonies-and-teacakes and beta read by @yuki-no-akumu !! i hope you guys enjoy and remember that ily <3 mwah mwah !! - m.list ✩

“s-sir…i am so sorry.”

don’t.

“t-there’s been some kind of mistake!”

don’t you say it.

“unfortunately the room at our inn you’d requested for tonight has been double booked…”

don’t you dare say it.

“we can only offer you the alternative which is a single bed, again sir, i-i’m so sorry.”

it’s not the clerk’s fault, it’s a simple mistake that anyone could make at an inn located in one of the busiest travelling towns in all of Aethopia— but it shouldn’t have happened to katsuki bakugou. it’s the worst thing that could have ever happened to katsuki bakugou. “you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” the dragon prince snarls, almost resembling the mystical creature acting as his tribe’s crest— teeth white, sharp and menacingly on display. “all this fuckin’ coin spent on a useless, shitty inn ‘nd you can’t even book the right room?”

the clerk shrinks back, visibly shaken as they hand over a set of room keys to the blonde. “s-so sorry! s-sir!” they add timidly, flinching as they clatter into bakugou’s palm and he snatches the metal away from them.

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it, what a waste of my coin! i ain’t ever comin’ back to this shithole.” he continues to snap, and with a swish of his red woven cape, bakugou’s gone— storming away and outside of the reception, filled with enough rage to fan the flames of a dragon’s fire. you’re waiting for him with his horse, tending to it as he steps into the cool outside. the forest trees sway with the prince’s arrival but don’t do anything to distract you from running your fingers to the snow-white coloured steed.

you’re beautiful and that angers katsuki. you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in all of the moons he’s existed— you shine under the light of the silver crescent, as if glitter is speckled all over your skin or you’re covered in a layer of diamonds.

your smile as his horse chuffs and nudges you with its head is precious, more valuable than any gem found in this world’s greatest mines. your dress isn’t made out of the finest materials, but it fits perfectly around your sweet dips and curves— it’s pretty. you’re pretty. there’s something about you that makes a mess of katsuki’s pulse, that steals his breath away and he hates you for it.

you’re supposed to be an ordinary girl, you’re supposed to be just a pile of coin to him— a reward for returning you, prince touya of Ignis’ runaway bride. there was a hefty bounty hanging over your head for your safe return to his royal highness’ side, for you were to be the tool that helped to clean up prince touya’s act and get him prepared for kingship. again, you weren’t meant to be anything more to katsuki, in fact, if he had to he would force himself to despise you— you make him miserable, he has to remind himself that you’re just a prize. nothing more, nothing less.

despite the blonde’s plan to have you back in the hands of the todoroki family— he’s had his doubts. rumour has it that touya todoroki, better known to lesser folk as dabi, is an evil brute. one with little regard to the women he’s kept or invited up to his royal chambers. other whispers on the street have mentioned that you were a spoiled little village girl from within their kingdom, refusing the life the todoroki’s were to offer you.

that was another reason for bakugou to hate you— you were a brat that ran away because touya wouldn’t feed you with a silver spoon, because he was the first man in your existence to be unkind and you couldn’t find it in yourself to put up with it despite being set for the rest of your life.

katsuki bakugou of the dragon tribe had found you just outside of his territory— half dead, your clothes torn and a second away from being hunted by the mythical monsters that prowled them. you resented him, for what he did next. you had the audacity to be mad at the dragon prince for saving your life and nursing you back to health. you blame him for the miserable outcomes of your life and for having his heart set on returning you back to touya todoroki, blaming him for it all.

at the time, the pair of you had argued. bakugou had called you a stupids and naive little girl— who wouldn’t want to be married to a future king? you wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about if you did, your every need would be taken care of without you even asking. you wouldn’t have to kill for your next meal, worry about when or where you could sleep next, spend every day fighting for survival. clearly you both had different views on the world, and what should have been gratefulness turned into hatred.

bakugou had tied your wrists, dragged you kicking and screaming back on the route straight to the todoroki castle— reuniting you with your Prince Charming. so far, you’d made this journey hell, almost cost him fights and got him in trouble with clients or employers. you were embarrassing.

and in your eyes? katsuki was your fairytale villain. he was a selfish, ugly bastard who wouldn’t let you steal your freedom, all for some money. you hated bakugou with every fibre of your being and every ounce of your heart and he knew. he knew this, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle when you look at him like his every step scorches the earth.

scowl at him like you do now.

like he was the most awful man in the world. like he was touya. who he had heard from stories didn’t handle women in the best of ways.

“what, ya still mad at me, princess?” bakugou asks as he approaches you, the twigs snapping under his boots grabbing your attention.

before arriving at the inn, the dragon wielder had told you that you were a useless airhead— one that couldn’t survive on her own and needed a man to save her. you’d slapped him hard without hesitation and neither of you’d spoken until now. “of course i am, don’t ask stupid questions, you barbarian,” you spit harshly, turning back to the horse at hand. “did you get the room? i’m tired and sick of looking at your face.”

he almost flinches back to avoid being hit by your venomous words but instead retaliates. “i did ‘n yer stuck with me, sweetheart, there’s only one bed.”

“you’re kidding, right?” your eye twitches as you spin on your heel to face katsuki once more and the blonde braces himself for an onslaught of your slander. “oh! bakugou. you’re such an incompetent fool. you can’t even book an inn on your own, so you need a woman to do that for you?” you throw his words from earlier back into his face like an acid burn that’s been waiting underneath your tongue.

“i didn’t wanna be stuck with your ass anyways! quit complainin’!”

“well, if you insist on not being stuck with me, perhaps releasing me before we reach the todoroki’s is a good idea—“

“— fat chance, princess.” bakugou scoffs back. “not with the bounty over your head. puttin’ up with your shitty attitude will be fuckin’ worth dealin’ with until you’re back with ‘em.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to retort, heading back into the inn whether you follow him or not.

katsuki is glad that you don’t, at least not straight away— wanting to calm down the ache you’ve inflicted upon his hatred-blackened heart.

though he might hate you, katsuki can always tell when you’re crying.

around the same time every night and throughout your travels, your shoulders shake as sobs rack your body while you think he’s fast asleep. of course, the dragon prince feels bad— he’s practically handing you off to the devil in exchange for a lump of cash. you’ve been down on your luck and the blonde feels partially responsible for that.

rolling over to face you, bakugou watches with a deep frown as you keep your eyes on the wall opposite you— not daring to acknowledge him. “‘m sorry… about what i said,” he feels guilty but only just, unsure of his next words. “‘bout this touya thing… and all the men that have hurt you. i’m—” he takes a breath. “sorry about everything. i only treat you that way ‘cause i don’t want ya to end up lost like me…” he doesn’t want you to fall for him, to stay with him.

silence echoes between you both but katsuki can tell that you’ve calmed down from the way your body stops shaking and your hiccups quieten down. “you care about me, bakugou?” rolling over, the blonde finds himself lost in the sparkle of your galaxy eyes yet again— hating you for it, fighting down his love for you.

you’re close, way too close and everything beneath the sheets is hot. “shut up, princess.” bakugou whispers, not realising that the warmth of his breath is coasting over your lips wetly. before either of you know it, you’re kissing— mouths slotting against one another, tongues rolling over each other sloppily as you swap spit and pour undisclosed feelings into one another. his hands slip under your flimsy excuse for a night-gown, trailing up the good meat of your thighs, the soft curves of your waist and hips. you have him in shambles, with the way you gasp quietly at his thumbs swiping at the swell of your breasts— just brushing over your pebbling nipples. you coo and cry and he takes more from you, tugging on your lower lip with shining rows of pearly whites and licking into your mouth to swallow your whistle-tone moans.

“quiet, princess,” bakugou’s mouth is hot, blisteringly slow— his tongue leaving trails of clear, thick saliva along the planes of your skin. “gotta be quiet, baby, can’t wake anyone up, yeah?” the sharp edges of his teeth just graze your salt-licked flesh, barely nipping it. katsuki knows better, he can’t leave marks. he can’t return damaged goods to the soon-to-be king. to the touya todoroki. “so good, such a good girl.”

“o-oh! k-katsuki!” you stutter out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and locking away the stars as the dragon prince’s hand fumbles between your hot and heavy bodies. he finds your clit, swollen and sticky— pulsating beneath rough fingertips. “p-please, i need you. please, katsuki. n-need–!” you sing your praises to the high heaves, the letters of his name rubbed into your pretty pussy as he plays with it between your slick, doughy thighs.

a single finger slips past your fluttering entrance, but he doesn’t dare let up on your pleasure nub— circling it diligently. “shut up, yeah?” the man slurs into your neck, spreading your pussy lips apart to finger you deeper, faster— losing his sanity listening to the sound of you squelch. “i hate you…r’member that. h-hate you— fuck…”

“hate you, s’much. o-oh, right there!” your own set of fingers curl in sandy blonde locks tightly pulling him back up to your face for a kiss. but his eyes, your eyes, they both speak forbidden and unspoken love. your other hand grasps at his throbbing cock, arousal spilling over your knuckles and straight from the tip. his chest rumbles in pleasure, hips rutting into your closed fist languidly before he swoops down to lure you into the forest of temptation, the haze of another uncoordinated, messy kiss.

you mewl into one another’s open mouths, swollen and cherry lips meshing together— this? whatever you’re doing together, a pile of sweaty limbs moving in sync with one another…it’s everything either of you have ever wanted. playing pretend, hating one another face to face and loving one another in secret. katsuki curls his fingers, pressing down on your g-spot and you run your thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead…eager to please one another. to love one another.

“put it in, katsuki.” gasping but demanding, you call to him— hungry for more, to have his everything. he wants to, god he wants to. but what if he hurts you? what if you fall apart like fragile glass? what if touya—? you grab at the blonde’s chin, guiding his gaze up to yours and his thick girth to your clenching, unfilled hole. “just for tonight, one night. show me how you truly feel about me katsuki…make love to me.”

you’re giving him a chance, giving him this one last night to deflower the prettiest, most beautiful thing katsuki bakugou has ever held in his bare, monstrous hands. wrapping your legs around the slenderness of his waist, you lock your ankles at the small of his back and squeeze to draw him closer. his milky shaft pushes through your arousal soaked folds, clear strings of it clinging to every vein that decorates the length of him.

both of you shudder once he’s bottomed out inside the warmth of your velvety, silken walls. he’s as deep as he can go, stretching you over him with slow rolls of his hips and his balls heavy with cum, seated at the curve of your ass. “f-fuck, you’re tight, princess,” katsuki whines, wrapping his arms around your head to pin you to the bed beneath him. he fills you to the brim, brings tears to your eyes as he splits you apart and pieces you back together with every single thrust. your g-spot is a victim to endless ectasy given to you by his mushroomed tip as it rams against you, desperately.

rolling your hips up to match his pace, you swallow the saliva pooling on the palette of your tongue— skin buzzing with lust while you mark up the blonde’s back. you leave tiger-claw patterns across his tanned back, red and raw before mussing up his hair pulling him closer until either of you have room to breathe. his breath is ragged against the shell of your ear, thrusts rampant each time he plunges into your souse, salacious pussy.

katsuki drowns himself in you, and like an alcoholic reaching for another drink— he’s addicted. he groans pathetically when you bite him, kiss him and spit into his mouth until he’s babbling and brainless. you bite his shoulder to keep quiet but the bed creaks loudly enough to cover your harmonised moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin harshly.

“i love you,” you breathe weakly, body wracked with shakes when bakugou slips out of your cunt from how fast he's pounding you into the sheets, tied to you only by strings of slick.

he says it back, instantaneously while forcing himself back into your addictive heat, desperate to get you both to your highs. “i love you.” next he finds your clit again, using three fingers to tap at it so that you tremble cutely beneath him. “hold it, princess. hold your orgasm. p-promise it’ll feel good, kay?” the dragon prince pulls back only just, dragging his seedy tip along your insides and you whine at the loss of being so full. “promise me that when he’s fucking you, when touya makes you his bride a-and weds you, his pretty virgin bride…that you’ll think of me ‘n me alone.”

“i-i promise,” you murmur, playing with the baby hairs on the base of katsuki’s neck, looking up at him lovingly as you clench down on him at his claim— dripping sweet nectar down his balls.

only then does katsuki put his entire weight on you, jutting into you all at once, nearly breaking the bed as it hits the wall behind you over and over. his cock swells inside of you, close to bursting and cumming inside of you. with one, two, three more calculated thrusts you’re thrown over the edge— the dopamine high of your orgasm crashing over your brain while you squirt clear streams over his lower tummy and cock.

he’s right behind you, following the stream of your sweet essence that nearly forces him out of you. thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides belonging to the man that you love, filling you up to the brim. katsuki collapses on top of you with one last kiss, your foreheads pressed together and the crude mix of your arousal leaking from your tiny hole, onto your shared sheets.

“i don’t…i don’t hate you,” you stutter once both of your breathing has evened out, teary eyed because you can’t say that you love him again. it’ll make it too real, neither of you can have that if you’re promised to touya and bakugou has promised to take you back to the ruthless future king.

“niether do i,” katsuki breathes back, wiping your eyes with the pad of his thumb, using a delicate touch.

he couldn’t help it, loving you but at least he got to…just for tonight.

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confessedlyfannish · 5 months

Text

DP x DC Writing Prompt #10

Damian wakes up to low-pitched arguing, and in his daze thinks the hand running through his hair is Richard's.

"S'rry," he murmurs, turning his cheek into the hand. His head hurts, and Richard's hand is cool against his cheek, delicate nails ghosting over his scalp.

Hm. Richard does not have delicate nails. Nor a woman's voice.

"-lty is to Danny, all you've done is put a bigger target on our backs!"

"So be it," the young woman says, voice measured. It's her hand that's in Damian's hair. He'd pull away but his body is weighed down, eyelids barely ably to slip open to grab a glimpse of ginger hair before slamming shut again.

He's...drugged. He thinks. Nothing he recognizes immediately, but it's been a while since his poisoning sessions and thinking right now is difficult. His mask is still on, which means his identity is intact. There's nothing he can do except hope it will stay that way.

And so he sinks back under.

Some time later, he resurfaces with more lucidity. He's still costumed, mask on. His body still feels heavy, but this time he can wedge his eyes open enough to catch three figures next to the bed he now lies on. The redhead stands closest.

"--you an out," she is saying, her back to Damian. The other two, a pale girl with pitch black hair and a boy wearing a red cap, look at each other.

"That's not what we're asking for, and you know it!" The pale girl yells.

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't take it." The woman says, her voice extremely level in comparison. This only seems to agitate the girl further.

"Team Phantom means we make decisions as a team, Jazz." The boy says through grit teeth. "And if you had run this by us, we would've,"

"Said no--" the pale girl says, meanly.

"--At least figured out a better way," the boy says, head turning sharply towards the girl. "Between this and Jefferson you've been making really rash choices. We can't find Danny if we get caught by the Justice Loogies--"

"Team Phantom," the redhead interrupts. She turns towards Damian, and if she notices he's awake, she doesn't say anything. "You really don't get it, do you. There is no Team Phantom, because Danny's gone. We're not going to find him."

"Stop eating their bs--"

"Stop living in denial, Sam. Both of you. We can't find Danny because Danny's not anywhere to be found."

"They wouldn't get rid of him--"

"Why wouldn't they? Don't you see?" Jazz says, whirling around. She waves a blurry arm in Damian's direction.

"They can recreate the experiment anytime they want. And they do want. They found his genetic doppelgänger when they got their hands on Robin's blood. That's what they had on file in Jefferson."

Jefferson, Damian thinks. It's familiar. Information starts to filter in. It's not a person, but a place. There was an explosion at a government facility. Blew up three city blocks. 45 Casualties.

The redhead's a terrorist. He thinks. Redhead.

Fuck. She'd been getting mugged. He'd rescued her. Her face had been bruised.

She'd wanted to go to the hospital. Held onto his cape for dear life. Flinched back from Richard.

He'd smirked at Grayson before offering to escort her.

He'd felt important.

...He'd been an idiot.

"--You really think he'd just hand him over?"

"I don't know anything about Batman," the girl says. "But I'm not letting another brother die."

There's a sharp inhale, and neither side speaks.

"So that's it," the pale girl says. "You give up and immediately go get a replacement?"

"Sam..." the boy says warningly.

"Danny would want me to protect him," Jazz says. "So that's what I'm going to do. And you are free to leave."

"You're acting fucking crazy," Sam says. "And you're too deep in your grief to realize it. Danny would want none of this."

"Well then maybe it's a good thing he's not here," Jazz says, "Maybe I should be thanking you two instead."

The resulting silence is so sharp Damian hears only the sound of his own breaths.

"Fuck you," the girl spits, a door slamming a split second later. The boy doesn't say a word, crossing over to Damian.

"I'm going to keep looking, Jazz," he says, after a long moment. "I'm going to find him. Because he's alive."

Jazz doesn't respond.

"Listen, they found Robin's blood, right? They don't know who he is, so if we tell him to stop with the costume, lay low-"

"They'll finger prick all of Gotham if they have to. You know that. They can't get to him here, not with the portals and research destroyed. Even if they catch Mom and Dad, the ghosts will rip them to pieces if they ever step foot in the zone."

Jazz steps closer to Damian. "Here, Superman won't be able to hear his heartbeat."

"What happens when he wakes up? Wants to go home? He must have a family out there, he can't be Robin 24/7."

"You know I used to read to Danny?" Jazz says. Her voice is distant. "Every night before bed. He'd never heard a fairy tale before. He could read, of course, but he liked the way—" Jazz swallows. "He liked the way I did the voices. We were supposed to be in bed by 9 but when Mom would come to check on us we'd just pretend we were asleep. Danny was really good at it, but I could always tell when he was pretending."

A hand brushes through his hair again.

"You really are his twin, Damian."

Damian opens his eyes and sits up as the boy, a teenager his own age, takes a startled step back. Jazz, yes, the woman he'd 'rescued', smiles warmly at him.

He's in a canopied bed, surrounded by rich fabrics and what looks to be purple-bricked walls. There's a green tinted window to his right. Bookshelves with old looking tomes lines the walls and a suit of armor stands by the door. He notes the mace in its hands. With any luck, it won't be welded to the gloves.

"Danyal is dead," he says shortly. Jazz's smile turns sad.

"Yes," she takes his hand. "I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. He was so brave—,"

Damian yanks his hand away. "No, he's not newly dead, he's been dead. For years."

Jazz shakes her head, that same sad condescending smile on her face. "No, Danny didn't die. He escaped the League. He told me all about you. He," her voice wobbles, "he loved you very much."

Damian's blood churns. "You're lying."

"He lived, and he was a hero, like you. He helped people. And then he became a King," Jazz says. She continues to smile, even as tears start to trail down her face. "Which makes you a prince."

She sounds, to quote Sam, fucking crazy. And now that he can see the manic gleam in her eyes, she looks it too. Damian shoots an incredulous glance at the boy, but he refuses to make eye contact.

Jazz stands up and opens her arms out, gesturing to the room. "This was his home. And now it's yours."

Damian weighs his responses. Remembers Dick's lessons in diplomacy.

And still chooses the nuclear option: "If you know of the League then you know what it means to be the heir of Ra's Al Ghul. I will not be made into a prisoner and if you attempt to keep me here, you will be sorry."

The boy mouths "the league" to himself, questioningly, but Jazz doesn't so much as flinch.

"I know this is a long to take in," she says, voice dripping with sympathy. "But I promise, it will all make sense, and in time you'll come to adjust. Let's let Damian rest, Tucker."

The boy, Tucker, looks at him now with a troubled gaze, but when Jazz opens the door he reluctantly walks out. Jazz pauses in the doorway.

"Damian," she says, that same far off tone in her voice, her back to him. "Danny used to tell me about the League's code. Hunting down those that threatened its power without ceasing. Ensuring every target was dead. No mission left uncompleted. No failure tolerated."

Jazz looks back at him, a small serene smile on her face. "I'm going to avenge our brother Damian. I'm going to hunt down every last one of them. Without ceasing. Without failure. You have my word."

She cocks her head at him thoughtfully. "Danny loved macadamia nut muffins. I'll pick us up some on my way back. A welcome home present."

She strides out the door. Damian waits to hear a lock turn, but there is nothing but the sound of her fading footsteps. He waits until the noise has fully faded before he attempts to stand, glaring at his legs until they sluggishly begin to respond.

A squeaking noise erupts from the far wall and he watches in disbelief as the suit of armor creakily moves to stand in front of the door. Sufficiently positioned, it ceases all movement once more. However, now Damian can make out the two glowing red dots staring straight through the slits of its helm.

Damian's lip curls up in a wicked snarl that Jason calls feral as it becomes clear the guard is not going to attack but rather...guard. He heads for the window instead and stops short as he gets his first peek of the outside.

The window is not tinted green at all. Instead, for as far as he can see, there is an unnatural, electric green. Blobs of more of the green float and drift through the expanse, as if he is trapped in a lava lamp.

Here, Superman won't be able to hear his heartbeat.

"Where am I?" Damian asks, staring out into the void. This whole time he's been angry, and embarrassed, and annoyed. But for the first time since this ordeal began, he feels afraid.

"Where am I?"

#danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #Jazz absolutely has the propensity to go batshit #I'm into it #damian wayne #danyal al ghul #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #Jazz: as a psych major I fully recognize I am disassociating #Jazz: honestly? kinda rad #Jazz: I get the hype now

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delulu-sushi · 5 months

Text

Future Y/N and Mikey visiting their childhood!!! Canon to Always By My Side. :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Enjoy!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Remember this place?" Mikey's words trigger your memories as he offers his hand to help you off the back of his motorcycle

Just like he did that day

He entwines his fingers into yours, as deep as one possibly could, as the two of you walk down Musashi Shrine.

You glimpse at him.

Now 25, Manjiro Sano was still as charming as ever. He left his playful appearance, his hairstyle now mimicking his older brother's and his clothes being less casual and more flaunting, but he was still you're Manjiro.

As you walked down Musashi Shrine, you noticed how just the aura of the place brought back his Toman demeanor, just as he would walk down all those years ago... ...the hundreds of heads bowing down as he walked past them, his cape endlessly flowing back as you watched him with a proud feeling that never went away. Watching the invincible Mikey, no, your invincible Mikey walk so confidently, and see so many people respect him...

Manjiro stood where his young self once stood, and you swear you saw the ghosts of the past. He turned to you as his smile grew bigger, and slowly walked towards you, who was leaning on a pole. His one hand reached for your face as he brought his forehead closer to yours, planting a soft kiss on your lips, before whispering his daily mantra, "I love you".

"You know you can't whisper those words without taking things farther" you tease him in between his soft kisses.

"Heh," he chuckles as he takes his hands in yours leading you down the shrine and on a path in the forest, "Don't worry dorayaki, I know what to keep private" he says with a snobbish wink as you roll your eyes at him, the two of you erupting in a series of giggles with your flirtatious talks.

"Are we going to that tree?" You ask Manjiro as you notice the surroundings around you. "Honestly, I didn't think you would remember, seeing how you forget your own birthday"

Mikey gives you a raised eyebrow as he starts giving a very irrelavant and made up list of all the things you forgot, which you give an eye roll and eventually erupt into giggles

He loves making you laugh

"Never stop laughing, m'kay?" He doesn't stare you straight in the eye, but moves his arm over your shoulder as you hug his side

"For you, I never will." You answer back as the two of you eventually stop at the tree.

Manjiro rolls his sleeves down and reaches his hand into a tree hole untouched for 15 years. He pulls out a rusty box, once golden and embroidered, now dusty. Still, Manjiro takes out a handkerchief and wipes the box, which, to your astonishment, is still as beautifully embroidered as it was all those years ago.

Jiro clears his voice and stands up tall, very evidently trying to hold back a childish smile as he begins a speech.

"MS. L/N, F/N, 15 YEARS AGO I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU. 15 YEARS AGO I ASKED YOU TO PUT SOMETHING IN THIS BOX THAT REMINDED YOU OF ME. 15 YEARS AGO, I did the same" His voice calms down as he smiles lovingly. He can't stop. Manjiro opens the box and motions you to take out his letter, as he takes out the picture you drew.

"Dear dorayaki, " you start to read the letter and sneak a glance at Mikey, who freezes with a tomato-red face, suddenly remembering how much of an embarrassing love-struck 10 year old he was, "Jeez Jiro, I can't believe you made up that nickname when you were ten" you tease him.

"One day, you came to my grandpa's dojo, and I thought you were just another girl. Then we played together. You, me, Baji, and Sanzu, and all I wanted to do was make sure no one tagged you but me. Now I am ten and Shinichiro is always talking about the girls he gets rejected by. And sometimes, I get scared that you too, will reject me."

You pause to take a breath. Never in your life did you imagine that the 5th grade boy who acted so cool and chill in front of everyone was head over heels about you, going so far to write a whole letter.

"I think I'm in love with you. And if this is true, then I'll tell you. I'll look at your pretty E/C eyes all day long and we'll drink milkshakes together, and I'll even let you finish mine. But most importantly, if this is true, then I'll bring you back here and", you turn over the paper, anticipating what comes next... but its empty. Confused, you look back at Manjiro, whos

On his knees.

His hands on a small square case which you hope has what you think is inside.

He's staring at you, with love, because he knows what you're answer is going to be

"Marry me?"

No words come out of your mouth as you nod your head while tears slowly drop down your face as he takes your precious hand and slides a golden ring with the engraving Sano.

"Then I'll bring you back here and I'll make you a Sano" he finishes the last sentence of his letter and kisses your hand, while your still in shock about what happened.

"We're, WE'RE MARRIED NOW! We're married now? Oh my gosh, we are married Manji" Manjiro never thought you would be freaking out more then him. He looked straight in your eyes, picked you up, and twirled you around, "YEAH! You're a Sano now!" You've never seen him this happy before.

He then picks up the drawing you put in the time capsule,

A wedding reception. The Sano family, and all your friends surrounding the side. And in the middle?

You and Manjiro as bride and groom

#manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers fluff #time capsule #sano mikey manjiro #mikey kun #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro x y/n #manjiro x you #proposal

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sturniluvr · 21 days

Text

show your pride

Nick Sturniolo x bisexual!bsf!reader

word count: 1,069

warnings: swearing, nothing else i don’t think, lmk if there’s anything i missed

requested: yes/no

summary: Nick and his bisexual best friend go to pride together

A/N: this may not be entirely accurate to what a pride parade is like as I’ve never been to one. also sorry if your names are Amelia or Bella😭 also idk if I really like this, feels kinda rushed but whatever.

❗️semi proof read❗️

Y/N and Nick were currently in his bathroom applying face paint to their cheeks, Y/N having the bi flag on both her cheeks and Nick has the gay flag on his. Y/N also had her beaded bracelet on that were the colours of the bi flag, pink, purple and blue. The pair applied some space camp lip balm in the mirror, Y/N using her favourite, juicy watermelon and stashing it in her shorts pocket and Nick doing the same with his own lip balm.

“We look so fucking good girl!” Nick said excitedly, causing a laugh to escape Y/N at his excitement.

“That we do Nicolas!” she replied with a smile on her face. They took a quick mirror selfie before they exited his bathroom and grabbed their flags off his bed and walked out his bedroom, closing the door behind them and made their way downstairs to wait for Matt so he could drop them off at a diner they’d planned to go to before the parade to get something to eat and drink.

Shortly after, Matt Nick and Y/N got in the car, Chris had decided to stay home with Nate as he was visiting LA for the week.

After getting dropped off, they decided to also look in some shops. In one shop Nick found a set of pink cowboy hats.

“Oh my god! Y/N, we have to get these they’re perfect!” Nick exclaimed, she turned around to see what he was holding and as soon as she laid her eyes on the cowboy hats she started nodding her head eagerly, they finished looking round the store and made their way over to the checkout to pay for their items and left the store, immediately putting their hats on, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“We look fucking ridiculous but also so cool.” Nick laughed, she nodded her head in agreement, the pair did look rather silly, but they couldn’t care less, it was pride and there was bound to be some extravagant outfits, from drag queens especially which the best friends were both looking forward to.

half hour later

The parade had begun, Y/N and Nick were walking up the street in the crowd, their heads held high and proud with their respective pride flags wrapped round their necks like capes and their pink cowboy hats on their heads.

Nick felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned to his side and was met with a sweet teenage girl, he smiled at her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His protective side kicked in slightly seeing the slightly distressed look on the younger girl's face. She nodded hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to find my girlfriend, and I recognised you both, would it be okay if I stuck with you until I find her just so I’m not completely alone, I’ve never been to LA before.”

“Yeah of course you can stay with us sweetheart” Nick replied with a smile, which she returned.

“What’s your name?” Y/N asked the teenage girl “also I love your makeup it’s incredible!” She added on smiling sweetly.

“Thank you! Yours is amazing too. My names Amelia, and my girlfriend’s name is Bella.”

The trio continued to make small talk as they carried on down the street with the parade.

Later on, Amelia had found Bella and the couple decided to stay with Y/N and Nick and the four walked along, singing at the top of their lungs laughing.

Amelia and Bella eventually had to leave Y/N and Nick to find Bella’s mom.

“Before we leave, can we get a photo?” Bella asked, knowing her girlfriend was probably too shy to ask and they were both fans of the triplets and Y/N.

“Of course, let’s take one now before you have to go. Y/N get your hat on woman” nick yelled jokingly at the 19 year old, she jokingly rolled her eyes in response and put her hat on her head, the four took a selfie on Amelia’s phone and the younger teenagers left the pair.

time skip

Y/N and Nick had got to the end of the parade and were now in a field in front of a stage ready for the performances, Y/N was most excited for Reneé Rapp, she had the biggest crush on the singer, and Nick was most excited for her aswel, joking about trying to set Y/N and Reneé up on a date.

Reneé was about to make her way onto the stage and Nick quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and started recording Y/N’s reaction to seeing her celeb crush. Y/N started screaming the second she saw the blonde walk on the stage.

Her first song was Y/N’s favourite ‘pretty girl’ because it resonated with her so much as she had a similar experience with one of her ex friends.

“SO KEEP ON PRETENDING PRETTY GIRL” the duo screamed at the top of their lungs and laughing with each other, Y/N recording on her phone for memories.

Reneé had some a few more songs and there was a few more acts after her and the some speeches from LGBTQ+ groups and representatives, Y/N and Nick cheering in agreement whenever they agreed with something one of them said.

an hour later

The duo had gone to a nearby McDonald’s and got food while waiting on their uber to come pick them up.

“Thank you for today, it’s been amazing Nick” Y/N spoke with a smile on her face as she looked at her best friend of 7 years. He smiled back at her.

“Of course, babes, I always have an amazing time with you, you’re my favourite person, alongside Matt and Chris unfortunately” he joked.

“You love them don’t lie” she spoke sincerely, she loved all three of the boys like brothers ever since she had met them, they all immediately clicked when they had met at the start of high school.

“Yeah, I do, but you’re a lot more tolerable than them two” he laughed, she nodded knowing how much of a handful Matt and Chris could be at times.

They got home later that night, took their makeup and face paint off, got comfy clothes on and Y/N, Nick, Matt and Chris all sat on the couch watching a film with snacks and Y/N ended up stopping the night in Nick’s room with him where they watched RuPaul’s drag race with snacks and Dr Pepper and answering Snapchat replies from fans on Nick’s story.

🏷️: @imwetforyourmom @thenickgirl

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