#he'd make the whole situation worse

[misc-obeyme]

just a thought, but have you ever considered solomon and mc ACTUALLY getting married, or maybe getting engaged if we were to soften the blow a bit for the rest of the crew??? bc w everything going on in nightbringer, solomon and mc getting closer, “””jokes””” about them being a married couple, and solomon deadass admitting he prefers to keep things as it is now without the brothers getting in his way😭😭😭i wouldn’t be surprised if solomon actually got on his knee and popped a ring, he gotta keep his pookie close🤞

now if solomon and mc were to ever become actually exclusive (instead of an openness within their relationship, unlike how mc has practically kissed each and every brother without making any statement about being official) how do you think that would that go over with the past versions of the cast? heck, to bring up the severity of this, what if solomon and mc finally getting thrown back into the present/future and that’s when everyone finds out about the engagement??

id like to think, depending on which timeline we’re going with, there’d be varied reactions but somewhat the same. i think past versions of the brothers would react….severely, especially when only they’re getting accustomed to being a demon. i mean, in the recent chap 22 (spoilers) mammon is slowly but surely growing into being the avatar of greed that he reacted very harshly when levi saved mc from falling. that alone, triggered mammon to turn into his demon form and threatened to fight everyone who laid a hand on mc💀the brothers couldn’t even handle him at the time. now, i’m a firm believer that a sensitive time such as that would only ensue in some crazy drama😭 it could only culminate in chaos. maybe who knows, the solomon hate train would start a millenial earlier.

but if we were to go with future/present brothers, it wouldn’t be anything drastic, physically at least. bc at least the brothers have fully grown into being demons and can control themselves. but that wouldn’t stop the pettiness that would transpire. they still care about mc, and to see mc obviously care and have this fondness over solomon that they all crave for, they wouldn’t lay a hand on him for mc’s sake. at least you can sleep well with that thought❤️ still, the hate for solomon would skyrocket to the heavens. they go from being distrustful and wary of solomon’s intentions to actually straight up being solomon’s main haters.

hmm hmm…i dunno. this could result in many varying scenarios. and at a time where mc goes missing from the present timeline and the brothers are most likely losing their minds without mc, only for them to come back and deliver the worst news……….low blow, really. but yk what would be the lowest blow? if mc was the one who proposed to solomon instead. anyways, not to sidetrack, but i like to think present lucifer would be in heavy denial for some time LMFAO the first time he’d hear about mc and solomon, luci is probably the type to just completely disregard it and—not act—truly believe that it’s not real, which this perception borders irrationally. with levi and especially mammon, they’re practically two beat up puppies. while levi would sulk and let his misery fester in the close quarters of his room, mammon would not hesitate to make his feelings of betrayal known out loud. the rest of the brothers would act on the same spectrum, utter heartbreak. even beel would sit mc down at times and have long conversations with them about their decision to be seriously romantically involved with a man like solomon.

i think it’d be devastating. they should be happy, but dont forget that they’re the avatars of the seven original sins.

ps: sorry for the long ramble😭 i’ve been thinking about this since replaying some of the chapters of nightbringer…so my characterization of the brothers might be off. and idk much about the side characters. i just don’t want to think about what barbatos would do.

You're good, anon! I will always encourage rambling in my ask box! I love hearing all your thoughts!

So okay, I've thought about marriage with all the characters a little bit, but I don't think I've actually seriously considered what everybody's reactions would be!

I do think Solomon has gotten more possessive and jealous in Nightbringer, but I also think this could be because he's expressing himself a little more freely than he did before. In the OG, I always felt like he was holding himself back because he genuinely believed that MC would never choose him. In Nightbringer, though, I think he's either finding it harder to do that because he lives with them now or he just doesn't want to keep backing off when he clearly loves MC so much. I could definitely see him asking MC to marry him if he thought it was a good time.

I also think the reactions would vary depending on timeline, as you said. And I fully agree with you - if it happened while they were in the past, as things are right now, it'd be absolute chaos. I don't think Solomon is dumb enough to do something like that. He seems pretty determined to get himself and MC back to their own time. And even if he really wants to marry MC, I think he wouldn't propose while they were in the past for the very reasons you list. The demons are not stable and it just isn't worth the risk.

Now, in the present/future timeline, I think things would be far safer for him to actually propose. The demons are more stable, MC isn't really dealing with anything that could change the course of their lives, all that stuff.

If we consider how it would go before MC was unceremoniously chucked into the past, I think that would be the most stable and least dangerous scenario. MC has been living with the brothers for a while, they haven't been exclusive with anyone, and they haven't made any promises to anyone about being exclusive. It's a little weird if we think of it in terms of the generic OM MC because that MC has definitely been involved with everybody at some point. But this would differ depending on different people's versions of MC. But going with the general MC, yeah, I think most of the brothers would be upset about it.

Like if MC is gonna marry someone, it should at least be one of their brothers, right?! I think all the brothers would be okay with it if MC married Lucifer, for instance. They'd be like annoyed it wasn't them, but also just... they get it, you know?

But Solomon? No way. Lucifer himself would lose his mind. Luci's dislike of Solomon might make him try to talk MC out of it. If Solomon asked for Luci's permission, he'd only make it worse. 'Cause Lucifer'd be like no, get out. And I agree, I think he'd be in denial about MC wanting to marry Solomon. I agree with your assessment of Levi and Mammon's reactions, too.

I think they'd all take it pretty hard, but in the end, I also think they'd come around to MC's decision.

Now if MC came back from the past and was all oh yeah I'm engaged to Solomon? Yeah, no that reaction would be INTENSE. I think MC should probably wait a while before telling them that. Let them get over the fact that MC just disappeared on them first.

And honestly, I think if MC proposed to Solomon instead, everything might go a little bit better. Because if Solomon is the one proposing, the brothers will see that as this shady sorcerer stole away our human and that's unacceptable. We can maybe talk MC out of this! We can maybe influence this choice if we complain enough!

But if MC is the one proposing, then they know that it was always MC's choice. They would see it less as Solomon influencing MC and more like MC came to the decision on their own. Just because they love Solomon. And while I think that would be more devastating for them and likely result in a lot of heartbreak, I think they'd be less likely to fight MC on it. Because in the end, they do want MC to be happy.

OH MAN I think past!Barbatos would not be pleased about such an arrangement! He hates Sol's guts right now, so I can't imagine that going well. Future/present Barbatos on the other hand... I think we'd be dealing with another heartbreak situation. He was just beginning to develop feelings for MC. So I think he would be sad, but also happy for them. Because that version of Barbatos loves MC and he cares about Solomon, too. And I think he'd want them to be happy. And I kinda think that's how it would go for the rest of the side characters, too. Diavolo and Simeon both don't strike me as the types that would like try to talk them out of it or cause any anguish for them over it. I think they'd be sad to lose MC, but happy that their friends are in love, you know?

The brothers are just too attached to MC to really go that route without trying to talk them out of it. And also we know they really don't trust Solomon. Present/future Asmo might be the only one who sides with MC, though probably pretty reluctantly and that only because he actually likes Solomon in a way none of the other brothers do.

Wow I feel like there is just so much angst potential with this scenario! But I love the idea of MC marrying Solomon, even it makes things difficult for the brothers lol.

[multishipper-baby]

Thinking about how the whole Deya situation resolved because having the family fight makes me big sad :c

[foxwithapen]

ENDING IT ALL

In my bio class we have to make a drawing about what we think future humans will look like and I'm fairly proud of my guess. I went with an aquatic focus you know.

And as the conversation went on someone brought up something very similar to my guess. So, in my excitement, I held up the drawing I had been working on, delighted that my guess had some merit.

I did. Not hold up my drawing of my future human.

Instead I held up the drawing of my two ocs dancing. I quickly set down my gay people and picked up the proper drawing but the damage has been done I am MORTIFIED.

The gay people

[sabertoothwalrus]

make a farcille fankid. im a fankid fan and i think that adding to the whole complicated situation is great. the political ramifications of EVERYTHING about laios's country are fantastic and making it worse by adding more interspecies kids (shoutout to chilchuck's grandkids) is fascinating

great cause I already started drawing adjkfghdjfg

PLEASE READ THIS POST TO UNDERSTAND MY THOUGHT PROCESS BEHIND THIS

but yeah I !!!!!! really like the political implications of 1) having a half-elf (which the queen of elves doesn't recognize as people) as a royal court mage who is 2) gay married to King's sister who is 3) a chimera

additionally!!!! I think Laios would pick his niece to be his successor, for several reasons:

I think he's gay. maybe aro-spec.

I don't think he'd MIND marrying a woman. He had a fiance (which ended when he left home, meaning he was engaged before the age of THIRTEEN) so I think he just always assumed he would get married at some point, regardless of his personal feelings about it

haven't decided if I think he would get gay married, get comphet married, or stay single. I think it depends on How progressive he thinks Melini should be, other countries' feelings be damned. (unless Kabru says no, actually, that's a little too risky.)

point being IDK if Laios would have any kids of his own

He LOVES Falin. He loves Marcille as well. He'd fucking LOVEEEEE their kid my GOD would he spoil her!!!!! Best Uncle In The World

He probably thinks any chimera traits she'd have Fucking Rule and would think it's badass for someone like that to have the throne

yeah so. uh. enjoy farcille fankid

[drawnecromancy]

Hélianthe and Atropa sure are a duo to write, huh.

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one—he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[nabtime]

Better Watch Out

Danny had just started to feel like he was settling in with the Waynes. It had been... not ideal circumstances that brought him to the family in the first place, so getting used to not having to deal with all that mess was the first hurdle. The second being getting used to dealing with an entirely new- if more pleasant, mess. The Waynes, and Gotham by extension, were- to put it lightly- fucking crazy. He wasn't in Amity anymore and however much he'd thought it was the weirdest place on the planet before- he was absolutely rethinking that now. Where he had been one hero against a handful of villains, Gotham had a whole brigade of vigilantes against an army of villains. And they were... Bat-themed. For the most part. He'd yet to meet any of them, so he hadn't gotten the chance to ask what all that was about.

None of that was the point though. The point was that Danny had only recently stopped feeling like a fish out of water around his new foster family, and now the Holidays were coming. The Holidays that always served to put him in a sour mood. The Holidays that made him more prone to lash out and snap at those that didn't deserve it. The Holidays that, despite being Jewish by heritage, Bruce seemed oddly enthusiastic about celebrating.

(It reminded him, painfully, of Sam. He'd yet to be able to see here since everything went down and he missed her and Tucker something fierce. Which was maybe also putting him in a bad mood.)

So you really couldn't blame him for feeling a little tense about the whole situation. Not only were the Christmas decorations that smothered the Manor making him grouchy, but his grouchiness was also making a guilty pit form in his stomach. He was a moody teenager and adding trauma on top of that didn't help how caustic he could be- and adding fear on top of that made it all the worse. What if he saw Dick in his Santa hat, grinning and innocent, and he snapped? What if he saw Damian, stoic but loving, give Titus a shiny red bow-tie collar for the season and he made a caustic comment that went too far? What if he saw Bruce so much as smile at him while standing near the giant tree in the foyer and he saw green?

What if he ruined Christmas? Again? For people that didn't deserve it? Again? What if he hurt the people he cared about that had only ever shown him care and consideration? Again?

So Danny was just a bit tense. A bit on edge. And he was trying. Oh Ancients was he trying. To not be such a little bitch about all the Christmas stuff. But he had a limit. Bruce, being the rich socialite that seemed far too enthusiastic about family-centered holidays, did not have a limit. Every inch of the manor was covered in tinsel and holly and blinking lights and fake snow. Every spare moment was filled with different siblings being coerced into doing cheesy holiday activities, with Danny being the only one to attend every single one of them. (Cutting down a Christmas tree with Jason. Buying presents at the mall with Tim. Decorating while hanging from the chandelier with Dick. Caroling very badly with Stephanie. Making snow angels with Cass. Watching Christmas movies with Duke.) And he attended them all with a barely restrained snarl and a badly bitten tongue. The one time, one time, he'd told Bruce no- the guilt had eaten him alive (and dead) at seeing the man melt into the most pathetic kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen.

No grown man should ever be able to do that with his face. Danny never wanted to see that again.

In return, though, he had to face the Horrors.

The latest Horror being the worst he'd ever faced to date. A Horror that he thought he'd never have to face. He thought he'd slipped past this particular one by aging out. He was too old for this. He shouldn't be there. Damian, scowling and eyes filled with murderous intent, shouldn't be there. Dick and Bruce seemed to both be having the time of their lives. It was far too disturbing- and the continuous blasting of Christmas music and the overheated crush of a restless crowd only made it worse.

They were in line to see Santa at the mall.

It made his skin crawl. He was fifteen! Damian, the poor bastard, was also fifteen!

He could practically feel Ghostwriter laughing his ass off at his predicament. This was worse than getting stuck in a rhyming Christmas cautionary tale. He would 100% rather be stuck in one of Ghostwriter's cheesy poems than be stuck in the stupidly long line to see the fake mall Santa that probably didn't want to be there just as much as Danny.

But Bruce looked so fucking happy. Genuinely happy.

It was something he'd noticed early on about his foster dad. He smiled a lot and smiled big, but he rarely ever meant it. Now, Danny wasn't usually one to notice things like that. He got pretty wrapped up in his own problems and just- didn't have the skill to notice these things. Usually. But, well, being ghostly gave him a bit of an advantage. He could get a pretty good read on a person's emotions, regardless of what expression they wore. If he felt close enough to them. Frostbite had compared it to, like, family pack bonding. And he really, really didn't want to think about that further (why had it never worked for his parents? why did he feel so close to Bruce so quickly? why?) But, more importantly, he could tell that while Bruce smiled a lot, he rarely meant it.

But whenever Danny or his foster sibling begrudgingly participated in "family holiday activities" he smiled and he meant it. Bruce, fundamentally, was a sad man. Always grieving something. But here and now? In line to see his teenage children visit fucking Santa in the mall? He was smiling from ear to ear and his emotions, for once, matched. Yeah, there was a hint of mischief there, but it was overwhelmed by the giddy joy and excitement.

A suspicious amount of excitement... Like he was expecting something.

And then Bruce was leaning down between him and Damian and with a bright grin, he muttered, "I have a surprise for the both of you."

And even Dick, who had not stopped taking a stupid amount of pictures the entire time, paused to look at Bruce curiously.

"As I've told you both before," he said, looking over at Dick and back to Damian, "I know the real Santa. Met him a few times, saved Christmas with him a few others, and he owed me a favor for the last misadventure we had. So, I asked him to be here, for this one afternoon, for you guys."

Danny barely caught a glimpse of Dick rolling his eyes in the background. Oh, okay, so this was bullshit that has long been established. Nothing new on his account. That was something at least.

"Father," Damian interrupted with scorn and a promise of violence in his voice, "you are aware that this- Santa Claus creature- is fictitious, are you not?"

"Damian, chum," Bruce responded carefully, sincerely saddened, "why would you say that about an old family friend?"

And, poor Damian, looked two parts baffled and three parts murderous. Nonplussed and unable to even fathom a response to his father. He just stared the man down.

Dick huffed in exasperation behind them. "C'mon, B. Will you let that go already?"

Bruce furrowed his brows, eyes already taking on that faint sheen of kicked-puppiness, and looked back up at his eldest. "You don't believe me, Dickie? After all these years?"

Dick responded with a flat stare. Danny kind of wished he had popcorn for this moment. It was like witnessing a mild car crash. Nobody got hurt and it was still wicked to see parts flying everywhere. There was even a chance of things catching fire. Man was he glad he could just watch.

"Danny?" Bruce pleaded, turning to him with those sad, sad eyes. "Do you believe me, chum?"

And fuck how was he supposed to respond to that?

"I have it on good authority," he said, thinking of yearly fight, after fight, after fight, "that his existence is very hotly debated in the scientific community."

He could feel the questioning stares from Damian and Dick but he refused to look away from the innocently tilted head of his unfortunate foster father.

"Is that a yes?" and he sounded so sincerely hopeful. He couldn't crush the man's spirit. He couldn't.

But he also refused to lie and say he believed in Santa. At fifteen.

He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, but eventually replied. "It's a hotly debated topic."

And Bruce just smiled that empty smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, chum."

He, again, ignored Damian and Dick's stares. If he looked at them, he'd break. If he so much as made partial eye-contact, he was gonna fucking lose it.

"Oh look! We're almost at the front!"

Danny was living his worst life. Officially. This was the bad time-line. Dan's future didn't even come close. He was going to go mega evil any second now and kill everyone in the vicinity and then himself. This wasn't happening and it wasn't real and Santa Claus can't hurt him because he isn't real.

But Bruce, the saddest man in history, utterly and sincerely believed that he was.

So Danny was going to sit on some random old dude's lap and pretend to care about what he wanted for Christmas and whether or not he'd been a good boy this year and he was going to force a smile the entire time and his soul might shrivel up and die all the way inside, but at least Bruce would be happy.

What the fuck kind of afterlife was he living.

And then it was their turn and Danny was forced to go up first because the alternative was Damian committing homicide in the middle of the mall while Dick and Bruce cheerily took pictures.

Okay. Just sit down. Spit out answers to any inane questions. Pose for picture. And leave. Simple and easy and completely unbearable. But- for Bruce- he would bear it.

But, damn it all, a chill went down his spine as he approached.

No. Absolutely not.

There was no way. But he examined the man sitting in the chair and the more he saw the more the sinking pit in his stomach grew. Full thick beard of snow white hair. Brown eyes filled with smug mischief and magnanimity. Thick red velvet jacket made for trapping in heat in extreme cold weather, lined with white fur that looked suspiciously close to trim on cloaks he'd seen in the Far Frozen. A not-quite-ghostly-not-quite-magic-but-something-in-between aura he often got around Gods and Ancients.

Fuck, but Bruce actually knew the real bonafide Santa Fucking Claus.

What, and he means this with a great amount of emotion, the fuck.

He sat down in a stupor and the man just placidly smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye letting him know that he knew Danny was currently experiencing new stages of grief not yet known to man and was just gonna let him ride it out. How nice of him. Because of course he was being nice. He was Santa.

Fuck.

He looked up at the man. Ghost. God. Whatever. And for a good moment that's all either of them did. Just. Stared.

Sorry, Santa, Danny's brain has suddenly gone on vacation. 404 not found. Please leave a message after the tone. Error. Sorry, there's nothing there. Please try again.

After a few agonizing moments he asked, "how? Do you know Bruce?"

And Santa laughed at him, the sound working its way into his bones and filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. It tasted just a bit like egg nog. Gross.

"Well," the man started, voice deep and rich like a good cup of hot chocolate, (whatthefuckwhathtefuck). "Why wouldn't I know a man like Bruce? Honorable, righteous, and very skilled. One of the best the Justice League has, if I'm being honest."

And then Danny's brain stopped completely. Because there was no fucking way Santa (FUCK) was implying what he thought he was implying.

But it all made so much sense now. His ears were ringing suddenly and the world was greying out but he was Seeing the Light.

"-nny?" Santa (FUCK!!) was saying. "Are you alright? Want to tell me what you want for Christmas now?"

"Hm," he said airily, still not all the way there, "I'm good, thanks."

And then he slid off the man's lap and walked back to his foster family in a daze. And he looked at Bruce (BATMAN!! FUCK!!!) and he slid a slow hand down his face, attempting to take the skin off it in the process.

"You alright, Danny man?" Dick asked, only half paying attention while he gleefully snapped pictures of a sullen Damian barely restraining himself from committing violence while stubbornly standing next to Santa instead of sitting on his lap.

"That's the real Santa, Bruce is Batman, and I'm half-dead," he replied bluntly.

Dick fumbled his phone in response and Bruce merely raised his eyebrows.

"That's an odd start to a 'three guys walk into a bar' joke there, chum," he said amiably. And Danny wouldn't have noticed the tension in his voice if he weren't ghostly. But he was and unfortunately for them all, it was now everyone's problem.

"Not a joke," he said. "I'll explain the dead part later but Santa outed you on accident."

"Okay, no," Dick interrupted, "we are not leaving the dead part for later, Danny, what the fuck."

"Listen," he said flatly, slapping his hands on either side of Dick's face and smooshing it to convey his seriousness while he spoke. "Santa is real, he's a God, and he's sitting right there." He emphasized with a sweeping wave of his arm in the direction Damian was stomping back towards them from. "We're leaving the dead part for later."

"What is all this about? Dead part? What is going on?" Damian demanded in rapid succession, growing more aggressive and persistent with each question.

Danny, already on his last fucking nerve, was gonna lose it. For real.

"Apparently," Dick drawled, disbelief and an unfair amount of derision in his tone, "that's the real Santa, he told Danny B was Batman, and Danny's now saying he's dead."

"What-"

Damian did not get to finish his sentence because that was the exact moment Danny finally snapped. Every bit of pent up tension and hostility, every bit of restrained Holiday fueled fury he'd been bottling up. Unleashed all at once because Dick decided to be an asshole about not believing him.

Danny snatched one of the giant plastic candy canes that lined the aisle of the queue to see Mall (but actually Real) Santa and gave a good swing in Dick's direction. Dick who had unfairly good reflexes and was able to dodge by jumping over the swing and landing back neatly on his feat.

"Danny?!" he cried, incredulous.

But Danny was no longer listening. Only reveling in the wild swinging of the candy cane and attempting to land a hit on Dick for being an absolute dick and finally unleashing hell upon the world and specifically his asshole foster brother. And maybe he put a little bit more ghostly strength in his last swing than he meant to, because when he finally made contact- he heard a pained off as Dick went down hard.

"Danny, please," he wheezed from the soft bank of fake snow he'd fallen into, "it's Christmas."

He screeched and continued his assault. "It's December 10th!"

And then, promptly; Bruce wrangled the candy cane from Danny's grasp, Damian pulled Dick from the floor, and they were all calmly escorted from the mall and asked politely to never return.

Danny really, truly, hated Christmas. And it looked like that wasn't going to change any time soon.

[lyvhie]

nct dream having a s/o who's shy during sex

nct dream x fem!reader (18+ mdni) a/n: reposting this one bcs somehow this just disappeared from my blog and i remembered to repost it now 😭😭 cw: smut, oral (f), fingering, petnames.

MARK seemed taken aback at first. like, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, he wanted this moment to be good for you too, so he kept asking if you were sure and if it was okay to continue. when you gave him a green light, he would nod and take things slowly with you, checking to make sure you were fine with what he was doing and reassuring you that it was fine to be shy. he let you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face there, knowing that this was your way of cooperating with the situation.

he was understanding and patient, knowing that you needed time and didn't want to push too quickly. he loved having you close to him like that, everything seemed more intimate when you were close together. it was like a whole new level of intimacy and he couldn't really explain it with words, but it just felt right to him.

“babe, please,” he murmurs against your forehead, his voice shaky with restraint. “think you can relax a little for me? your tightness is amazing, but i need to move,” as soon as you relax, he begins to move his hips slowly, savoring every inch as he pushes deeper into you. each stroke hits just the right spot and elicits a soft moan from your lips. he showers you with praises as he makes love to you tenderly.

it seemed like there was an unspoken contest between you and JISUNG over who could be the most bashful in that moment. and, just as usual, you managed to claim victory! despite seeing himself as the one to lead, he was surprisingly unsure of his next steps, attempting to put you at ease as best he could. with a gentle determination, he whispered reassurances in your ear about making it feel good and creating a memorable experience for you. yet, every word he uttered only seemed to amplify the heat in your body.

but through all the nervous laughter and flustered glances, you could sense jisung's genuine care for your wellbeing. as his hands explored your body, they were hesitant yet firm, as if trying to learn your every curve by heart. he gently nuzzles your neck as he speaks, his breath hot against your skin. "i promise i'll take it slow. just tell me what feels nice.”

HAECHAN remembered how he saw you struggle to just take off your clothes, how embarrassed you seemed, so he figured he'd take the opportunity to help. initially, he was gentle and supportive, telling you it was all right, and you could take your time. however, when you were underneath him, hiding your face with your arms and holding back your cute moans, oh boy, that's when he would get really devious. he'd force you to look at him and whisper dirty words in your ear, really making you squirm and, more important, he would make sure to tease you enough to make you beg.

“look at me,” he would say demanding. “i’ll stop moving if you close your eyes again,” as he says this, he's already thrusting into you in an agonizingly slow pace. it would be so much worse if he just stayed still.* “n-no, hyuck, p-please,” you stutter out in a pleading tone as you open your eyes quickly and look at him. “please what? i said you have to use your words, love,” he leans close to nibble on your earlobe, making you shriver. he loved how responsive you were. “please… f-faster, i…” you tried to move your hips to match his rhythm but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you. "mmh, i'm listening,” he nuzzle against your neck, patiently waiting for you. "i want to c-cum again, please, go h-harder,” you say in a frustrated tone, burying your face in his neck to hide yourself. he was pleased with you words, his smirk widen and he feels his cock throb with excitement. he would let you hide this time. “can’t deny it if my love asked so nicely.”

seeing this side of you, the vulnerable and timid one, was something truly endearing to JAEMIN. “my bold princess is feeling shy today?” he asked, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pressed a light kiss to your quivering lips. “there’s no reason to be,” he assured before placing another tender peck. gently coaxing your arms away from hiding your chest, he encourages you with another kiss, his thumb tracing lazy circles on cheek. “you’re stunning, princess,” his lips soon follow suit, moving down to your neck, leaving trails of kisses as he goes.

jaemin’s breath is hot against your skin as he nuzzles further downwards, pausing at your collarbone. he flicks his tongue across the delicate flesh, the sensation makes goosebumps break out on your skin, causing you to shiver slightly. “you’ve got nothing to hide from me,” his hands move to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts completely. with a low groan, he finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling lightly.

CHENLE would be so confused. he was trying to make you feel good, but you were making things difficult. it wasn't because you didn't want it, so he was even more confused as to why you weren't letting yourself enjoy it. "baby, why are you doing that?" he asked with a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow as he saw you closing your legs. "stop closing your legs," he said, making you look away from him. “n-no, it's... i-it's embarrassing..." you mumbled, biting your lower lip. he let a small "oh" escape his lips when he realized what was happening.

"aw, are you feeling shy? you're so cute!" he said, letting a small sigh escape his mouth as he ran his hands gently up and down your thigh. the touch was comforting, his hands caressing the skin as he leaned in closer. "what about this? keep your eyes closed and let me take care of you, just relax,” he kissed your thigh, his voice so gentle it made your heart flutter. the thought of just letting go and giving him control was enticing, so you nod and kept your eyes closed as he requested. with a wicked grin, he pushes your legs further apart, revealing your beautiful, swollen center. he takes a moment to appreciate the sight before leaning down to taste you, his tongue sliding effortlessly inside. you gasp and grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he begins to explore every inch of you.

JENO had come to understand your behavior patterns, he knew that you would react just this way. you were always the type to talk too much and do less, specifically in regards to your flirting. you seemed to derive a lot of fun from sending suggestive texts, spicy pictures that didn't give too much away, raunchy voice messages and all. yet when it came time for the actual act, you seemed to always shy away from it. he had learned to read your subtleties, and this time he didn't let you ran away.

"aww, look at you now," he says, his voice low and teasing. "you were all fire and ice earlier, sending me those naughty texts and photos, making my imagination run wild." he leans in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. "but now that we're here, you're suddenly shy?" he held your chin to force you to meet his eyes. "what happened to the feisty little thing that had me on edge all day?" before you could try to say something back, he shut you up with a hard thrust, making you gasp. "you know, you really shoudn't start something you can't finish."

RENJUN knew you were naturally shy about physical contact, he wasn't surprised by your reluctance. in fact, he knew that you would be a little coy whenever the physical intimacy went up a level. he knew your shyness would make this a delicate process, so he decided to start things off gentle. "that's it, just spread your legs a bit more, darling," he asked softly in your ear, continuing to keep you in a gentle hug from behind. you could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. you had asked him not to look at your face since you felt nervous, and he agreed. but he was lying, he just had to move his head a little to capture your expressions.

he starts gently caressing your inner thighs, sending shivers up your spine. he feels your pulse quickening and your breathing becoming more ragged, which makes him feel even more determined to give you pleasure. he continues to tease you, getting closer and closer to where you really need him to touch. he traces his fingers lightly over your wet panties, feelings your arousal seep through the fabric. he slowly pulls them aside and slips a finger inside you gently, pumping slowly as he watches your reactions. your breathing quickens and your moans get louder with each thrust, so he adds another finger, stretching you just enough to feel amazing. as he continues to move inside you, he presses his thumb against your clit, massaging it in slow circles. he’s careful not to go too fast or hard knowing that anticipation can be just as satisfying as release.

[upsidedownmvnson]

you can take it | eddie munson smut

summary: eddie gets jealous at a gig and reminds you exactly who you belong with :)

warnings: dacryphilia, just pure filth, rough sex, daddy kink, name calling in bed, jealous boyfriend, shy!reader, voyuerism

You really were innocent in the whole situation.

You were at The Hideout, watching your boyfriend Eddie perform. You sat alone at the bar, sipping on something sweet and fizzy the bartender made you, on the house.

Someone approached you, introducing himself as Eric. He didn't leave when you mentioned you had a boyfriend, but he didn't make any moves on you either, he was just speaking to you, so you didn't feel concerned about it.

The only rule you and Eddie had about hanging out with other people is as long as they're not into you, it's totally fine. Because usually, Eddie is a pretty level headed guy, especially when it comes to you. He loves you, and trusts that you love him, and only him.

However, there are a few people that push Eddie's buttons just by existing. You knew about Jason Carver, but who you didn't know about was Eric Heely, lead singer of Hotels of Fire, another band that frequents gigs at The Hideout. And an industrial pain in Eddie's ass.

And now, he was leaning against the bar talking to you while Eddie played the rest of his show.

And Eddie was getting pissed off.

He didn't like the idea of this guy talking to you, but what he really hated was that this guy was using you to get a rise out of him, and worse yet, it was fucking working. Eddie's neck was getting hot, and he'd long lost his usual grin. Instead, it was replaced with a tight scowl, a really annoyed grimace that probably would've signalled something was wrong if you would just look at Eddie.

But no, you were talking with Eric, sipping on your drink. He could tell from there that you weren't doing anything wrong at all. You saw the best in people, and if you had said you weren't interested, you would trust the other person to take that as an answer. But Eddie knew better. Eddie knew that Eric wasn't just trying to make a new friend, he was trying to ruin Eddie's night.

By the time you realized you were in trouble, it was far too late. Eddie had already decided that you needed to be taught a lesson.

And once you're in hell, only the devil can get you out.

You noticed Eddie's grimace, and put two and two together when you saw your new friend waving at Eddie, smug smile on his face.

"Do you know Eddie?" you asked, growing suspicious.

"Oh yeah," he said, making sure Eddie was looking at him before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "We go way back."

You reacted quickly, getting out of your chair and smacking that guys hand away from you. You were clearly telling him off, but Eddie just wished you would get away from that guy.

Eddie, still not angry with you, was fuming. Eric had touched you. He touched you without your permission, and you felt uncomfortable, Eddie could see that. The music turned aggressive, and his bandmates could see the scene unfolding in front of them, and they didn't know what was going to happen.

After cutting the song short, Eddie announced their set was over.

His friends looked at each other questioningly, as there was still supposed to be another few songs, but they wrapped up anyway, unplugging their instruments and beginning to disassemble. Eddie threw the van keys to Gareth, and didn't say a word as he rushed over to 'save' you.

You met Eddie halfway, trying to assure him that you didn't do anything. Eric was behind you smirking at the damage he'd done to Eddie's mood.

"Baby," he cooed, rubbing your arms. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him." Eddie nodded over to Eric, and followed up by flipping him off. "Go over with Gareth, okay? I wouldn't trust this guy near your drink." Eddie plucked the beverage out of your hands, and while he doubted that Eric did anything to it, he just wasn't willing to risk it.

Eddie stormed over to Eric, and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"If you ever lay your hands on her again, I will kill you. Do you understand that? I will kill you."

"Death threats? Eddie, don't you think you're being a little dramatic? She was totally into it."

"If you interpret recoiling as into it, you're a predator." Eddie had to get out of here before he did something he would regret. Before he got the band barred from the only place they could find to play. "Stay away from us."

"Whatever, freak."

Eddie let go of Eric's shirt, turning on his heel and focusing on just getting back to you and calming down. Was he mad? Jealous? Pissed off? Yes, yes, and yes.

"Eddie?" you asked, as he approached you, but he didn't answer, just grabbed your hand and pulled you close, closing the gap between you and laying a big, fat kiss on you in front of everyone. You melted into him, not really caring who saw. Eddie loved pda, always had, loved showing everyone that you were his, and he was yours.

Hid hands wrapped around your waist, holding you as he leaned into you, bending your back and forcing your chest into his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking in the intoxicating smell of him. Eddie, sweat covered and sexy.

"Eddie," you mumbled against his mouth, "let's pack up and just get out of here," you said, pulling away from him finally.

"Yeah," he agreed, "good idea."

And you could see the fire in his eyes. You could feel the way he tried to push into you. You were in trouble, but you weren't scared, you were excited.

"Are you ready to help us pack up?" Jeff asked, "or would you just like us to watch you make out some more."

"No one was forcing you to watch," Eddie said, his tone level and casual. None of his usual joking manner. "I'll bring the van around."

Eddie pulled you behind him. He wouldn't be letting you alone with that guy fucking lurking around. You were guided out the back door, and through the dark parking lot behind the bar. Eddie always parked in the same corner, far enough away from the door where he could secure a quick deal or two during his shows.

Even through the rage, you thought he was being a perfect gentleman by opening the passenger side door for you, but you should've known better. In this mood, you should've expected him to be dirty, dirty, dirty...

When you moved to get in, he pushed you down, bending you over the seat. With your ass in the air, he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees, immediately smacking your ass three fast times. It stung, the sudden intrusion of pain was a delightful surprise. He groped your ass for a second, mumbling something about it being his.

"I fucking love this ass," he muttered, sliding his fingers down through your already soaking wet folds. "And this pussy."

Two rough fingers found your clit, rubbing small, quick circles around the little bud.

"I need to get you home," he said, plunging those fingers inside you. "Like, right now."

"We should h-help pack up," you said, only to be met with another smack on your ass from his free hand. He wasn't holding you down, you could've easily asked him to stop and he would've. But you didn't want to. And he knew that.

"Just need a minute," he said, falling to his knees. The concret scraped his knees, but he didn't care. He needed this to calm down. Then he could go pack up and get you home and deal with the rest of his frustrations. "Jus' a little taste," he whispered, leaning forward and diving into your pussy like it was the cure to all his problems. Which it kind of was, honestly.

One hand was gripping your thigh, right where it met your ass, holding it open so he could lick, and suck and just taste you. The other hand, slid around you to rub slow circles on your clit again, but not enough to get you off. He didn't want to overwhelm you already, and he definitely didn't want you to cum yet.

"Eddie," you moaned, biting your hand to keep quiet. "They're waiting for us."

"Don't care," he mumbled, continuing to eat you out, right there in the parking lot. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done something here in the parking lot, but it was the first time where you weren't hidden inside the van.

"Eddie," you moaned, as he licked up your slit and dipped into your tight little hole with his tongue, before pulling away entirely, letting the cool breeze blow across your wet centre, and you whined, wishing he would continue. He laughed, leaving your clit behind to grip both your ass cheeks in his calloused hands, the rough fingers felt amazing against your soft skin. He bit one of your ass cheeks, and kissed the other. And then slapped both at the same time.

And you got ready for him to fuck you. But instead he tucked his erection into the band of his jeans, and pulled your panties back up. He fixed your skirt, and then guided you to sit in the van.

"You're so good," he mused, his bad mood already lessening. "So beautiful."

You blushed, suddenly bashful about what he'd done.

"Now let's get the fuck out of here," he said, closing the passenger door and rushing around to the front. He drove to the otherside of the lot, completely unfazed by his voyeuristic tendencies.

The guys were already moving stuff outside, and leaving it by the backdoor.

"We were afraid to come over there," Gareth joked, loading stuff into the back. He found it even funnier when he caught the blush creeping over your neck and cheeks. He didn't say anything else about it. But he knew that there was some truth to it all.

"Just hurry up," Eddie said, impatience catching up with him. "I'm in a bad mood, I just fucking hate that guy."

"Yeah, that guy is a dick." Gareth shook his head. "But it's not like she would've let him do anything."

"Obviously," he muttered, and closed the back of the door. "It pisses me off that he would even try to use her like that though, like she's less of a person. It's just, it's gross."

"It is gross," he agreed. "Well, we're out of here. I think I'll catch a ride with Jeff. You seem, uh... busy."

"I think that's for the best."

The drive home was silent, except for the radio playing quietly between you. Eddie's hand gripped your thigh, tightly, possessively. He was thinking of all the ways he was going to fuck you. All the ways he was going to make you cum. All over his face, his cock, his fingers. He couldn't think about anything else. He loathed the idea that Eric probably thought he could get with you. It made it him fucking furious. The more he stewed about it, the more angry he got.

It was time to remind you that there was no one on Earth that could fuck you like he can.

He trusted you fully, but he was going to remind you anyway.

"Eddie?" you asked, "Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"I'm sure, my love." He traded his grip on your thigh for your hand, which he brought to his lips to place several chaste kisses to your knuckles. It was sweet how much you cared about his feelings, and boundaries. "I just need to make sure you're properly fucked. I've been fucking you softly lately, and I love that," he smiled, and you were blushing, the topic of conversation making you bashful, "but it's time for Daddy to really fuck your brains out."

"Eddie!"

"Time to make my little mouse cum again and again," he continued, "until you're screaming and begging me to stop." He continued to kiss your hand as he spoke, "but you won't want me to stop, not really."

"Don't be dirty," you whispered, shy about the way he was speaking to you. But you loved it. You were soaking wet, clenching your thighs together, thinking about all the ways Eddie would have you. All the ways you would totally and fully give yourself to him.

"Oh baby," he cooed, "tonight we will be filthy, and I think," he let go of your hand, "I'll start now."

And with that he slipped his hand between your thighs, pushing them open. He wasted no time in grabbing your panties, yanking them over to the side and slipping his fingers between your folds.

"So fucking wet," he moaned, slipping a finger inside you, "and so fucking tight." He groaned, taking the finger out and popping it into his mouth. "And sweet."

You were breathing heavily, so turned on by how Eddie was acting. He'd dominated you before, but this was different. Like he was trying to prove something. He was trying to prove to himself that he was the right one for you, that he was the one you wanted and needed.

"I want you to be good for me tonight," he said, moving back between your legs and fingering you again. This time with two thick fingers, and his thumb on your clit. He knew everything by feel, his eyes never left the road. He knew where to touch, and what to do to please you. "Just do what I say and you'll be rewarded."

"Okay," you whispered, speechless at what was going on. You pulled your knee up onto the passenger side door to give him more access to you. To let him in deeper.

"Good girl," he cooed, "off to a good start."

He removed his hand again, and you whined at the loss of contact, but he shut you up by sticking his fingers into your mouth. "Taste that, honey? It's my favourite thing in the world." He kept his fingers in your mouth for a moment, until he felt your tongue swirl around the digits. "You're gunna suck my cock as soon as we get inside your house, and you're not gunna stop until I tell you to stop."

You nodded, and he pulled his fingers out, returning to gripping your thigh like at the start. You were throbbing, thinking 'please touch me again,' over and over and over in your head until you were sure he knew what you were thinking, because his smug smirk returned.

"Look at you, fucking begging for it, looking at me like that isn't gunna be enough, doll. You're not calling the shots tonight."

"Can I suck your cock now?" you asked, and he smiled.

"No," he said. "Keep your hands to yourself."

And suddenly your hands were magnets, and he was what they were attracted to. You wanted to touch him, to play with his hair, or his jacket. Touch his thighs, or any piece of exposed skin you could find. You needed him. You wanted him to be inside you, anyway possible. The lay restlessly on your lap, just keening to touch him.

You clenched your thighs together again, and Eddie tutted at you. "Don't do that, your pleasure is all for me tonight."

"Eddie..." you whined, hiking your leg up higher, trying to entice him to return to his work between your legs. But he didn't budge, just smirked as you whined and writhed in his passenger seat. He loved it like this, he liked how fucking feral you got for him.

And he especially loved how smug it made him when one of the guys sat in that seat, knowing all the dirty things he'd done to you in this van.

He killed the engine, parking crooked in your driveway. No one was home, it was a recipe for a perfect night.

"Don't even have to be quiet," he mused, "you're really in for it, little mouse."

And you were quick to exit the van, and excitedly head into the house. You were only a few steps in, leaning on the wall and trying to kick your shoes off when Eddie slammed the front door, grabbing your hand and turning you back around to him.

"I said 'as soon as we get inside'," and he pulled you down until you feel on your knees. "I didn't say take anything off."

He pushed your face into his bulge, the jean rubbing against your cheek, and the zipper cold on your nose.

You undid his belt above you, fumbling because you couldn't really see it. You pulled it through the loops, and he grabbed it from you before you could discard it.

"Take my pants off," he muttered, letting go of your hair. And you obeyed, tongue tied and soaking wet. Throbbing in your panties. Eddie had never been like this. And you wanted more. You wanted more than you knew.

While you worked on his jeans, he wrapped the belt around your neck. Not to choke you, but to hold it there, as if it was a promise. A promise to keep you in line. You sucked your lip into your mouth, salivating at the sight of his dick springing to life, free from the confines of his ripped jeans. His sexy, sexy ripped jeans.

You started teasingly, licking the underside of his dick slowly, but he yanked the belt, causing it to tighten ever so slightly. "I said, suck my dick!" he raised his voice, annoyed that he had to repeat himself a third time.

You whimpered, putting the tip in your mouth, and he thrusted into your mouth, forcing himself into your throat as you choked and gagged.

"If you want to stop at any point just tap twice or say Atari," he said, a softer tone taking over for a moment, he pulled back a bit, making you look up at him, "tap twice now if you understand."

You tapped his leg twice, and then you gagged on his dick as he thrusted it down your throat again. "Good girl," he muttered, dick twitching at the view he had. Belt wrapped around your throat like a leash, tears filling your eyes and his dick hit the back of your throat. You didn't even have to move, because Eddie couldn't control himself from grabbing your hair, and guiding you to suck his dick exactly how he wanted it.

Eddie was fucking your face, a foot from the front door. If anyone came onto the porch they'd hear the wet squelching of Eddie thrusting into your mouth, or the coughing caused by the intrusion.

"That's fucking unreal, little mouse," he muttered, throwing his head back and his continued gripping your hair by the roots, moving your head up and down on his thick cock. "You take daddy so well."

Your hands gripped his thighs, trying to ignore the painful throbbing of your ignored pussy, while Eddie takes his pleasure. "You look so pretty like this," he said, returning his attention to you. Tears made their escape down your cheeks, dragging your mascara with them.

He gave the belt some slack, and you backed off of him, sucking in a few big gulps of air.

"I didn't know you could take it so good, baby," he cooed, "Daddy's good little slut."

You nodded eagerly, not sure if you were allowed to talk or not. You leaned forward to take him back in your mouth, doing everything you had been before, but without Eddie's guiding hand, you did it yourself, shoving his cock to the back of your throat where you coughed and gagged around him.

His groans were delightful. Eddie moans were music, filling you you with pride and desire. You pulled away again for some more air, and he looked at you with a devilish smirk.

"Come up here," he said, yanking on the belt, forcing you back to your feet.

The belt dangled when he let it go, and he just looked at you for a second. Your hair was messy, cheeks covered in wet makeup, puffy lips, belt hanging loosely around your neck, and glossy eyes that made Eddie swoon, for just a moment. And then he smirked, rubbing his thumbs across your cheek, trying to remove some of the mascara, but he just smudged it more. He smiled.

"Did you like that?" he asked, wanting to make sure you were liking this otherside of him. You nodded. "Why don't you bend of that couch over there? Hmm? Show daddy that ass he loves so much."

You did as he asked, bending yourself over the armrest of the couch. Irritated by all the clothes still on, but Eddie said not to take anything off, and you wanted to be his good girl. Even your sneakers were still on.

You looked behind at him, and he had taken all his clothes off, and was roughly palming his cock in his hand. One finger looped around your panties, yanking them down your legs and off, landing somewhere on the floor. He winked at you, making you blush. He gripped your ass tightly, his thumb linger dangerously close to your asshole.

He spread you open, slapping his cock against your asshole a couple times, mumbling, "I'll have to give this tight little hole a try sometime..." but he slid down to the wet, sopping hole of your pussy, testing the readiness of it by slipping the tip in. Your pussy basically sucked him in, begging him to give it to you. "So fucking wet and ready baby, so fucking good for me."

Instead of fucking you like you desperately needed, he just popped the tip in and out a couple times, spreading your wetness down to your clit and up to your ass.

And then he was lined up to your pussy again, holding himself at your hole, and you whimpered, looking over your shoulder at him, glossy eyes begging for him.

"Why so quiet, little mouse? I want to hear you," he said, moving his cock down to your clit again, and then right back up to your centre.

"Please," you begged, voice breaking with anticipation.

"Please what?"

"Please... please fuck me Daddy," you begged, "please fuck me, I've been so good, I want it. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" you begged.

And in one swift movement he grabbed the belt again, yanking it tight, constricting your throat just enough for you to feel the threat of choking, and also thrusting himself fully inside you. You screamed at the sudden invasion, but it felt so fucking good. The belt slightly constricting you, forcing your head back, and Eddie suddenly balls deep inside you made you scream you loved it so much. His other hand gripped your ass, the skirt bunching up in his palm.

Like how he treated your face, he was roughly fucking into you, each pump going all the way out before slamming back in. Each move was calculated, your head being forced back felt... so fucking good. He slapped your ass, flipping your skirt up.

You muttered unintelligible syllables, just grunts and moans as he took all of you.

You were taking him so well, your pussy was gripping him so tightly. Fuck, Eddie couldn't take it, but he didn't want to cum yet. Didn't want it to end.

You were breathing heavy, getting close to finishing, and Eddie could feel it. He knew the signs of your orgasm, and right when you were about to fall off that edge, he stopped entirely, pulling out and letting your orgasm shatter to pieces, not giving you any sense of relief. Instead, you were left with a painful thump in your clit.

Eddie touched it slowly and softly, giving nowhere near enough to coax you back to your orgasm, but enough to soothe the throbbing of neglect your poor pussy felt.

You whined, trying to push yourself back on him, and it made him chuckle. You looked so desperate for him. You wanted him. And Eddie finally got back his confidence that he was the only one for you. A fact you'd never doubted.

He loosened the belt, taking it off completely, and flipped you over, so you were standing again, leaning back against the couch. He moved your hair out of the way to make sure he didn't do any damage, and he didn't. It was just a little red, with a few small marks where the edges had rubbed into you. But he'd never pulled it tight enough to hurt you.

And then his movements were caring, just for a moment, just enough time to slide off your skirt, and then your shirt and bra. He slowly undressed you, stroking his cock slowly. He worshipped your body, hands dragging slowly across all newly exposed skin.

"So fucking pretty, baby," he said, "and you take it so well, who knew you had this kind of ... perseverance?"

"I want to cum," you pouted, "and I want you to fuck me full."

Eddie's eyes widened at your words, and his usual cheeky grin returned. "Oh, baby, you don't even know what you're asking for," he groaned, biting his bottom look as he took in your disheveled appearance.

"Yes, I do," you challenged, "please?"

And he pushed you back, letting you fall onto the couch cushions. And you crawled backwards as he climbed over the couch, stalking up your body like you were his prey.

He wedged himself in between your thighs, lining him up with your pussy and shoving it back in, hitting every part of you. He stayed still inside you, every inch of him covered with you. And he kissed you. He kissed you with his tongue, teeth, with his hands. He was all over you, covering every sense and taking the attention of all your thoughts.

"I love you," he muttered, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you whispered.

"Good," he smirked, "now take it."

And he was thrusting into you like he didn't love you at all. Hitting every part of you that was only for him to hit. Each slap of his hips hitting into your thighs hurt, but only in the most pleasurable way. You moaned, wrapping your legs around him, trying to somehow bring him in harder, deeper.

One hand by your head, holding him up, the other latching around your throat as he kissed you, all tongues and sloppy. the only sounds being the squelching of your painfully wet pussy and your tiny whimpers, being lost in his mouth.

"I want you to cum," he said, pulling himself away from your mouth, keeping his eyes locked onto your as you moaned under him, breathless and sweaty. "Now, I want you to cum now," he said, angling himself differently, and thrusting harder, hitting you in a spot that made you feel like you were gunna explode.

You were going to explode, especially when he ordered, "touch yourself, make yourself cum."

Like a good girl, you rubbed small circles over your clit, helping him bring yourself back to that ledge you so desperately wanted to jump off.

Your walls tightened around him, and it was different. It was different than every other time. You were chanting his name, moaning "Eddie," over and over until you came, screaming his name and feeling elecricity down to your toes. Every part of you was on fire, and your muscles tightened, pulling him in closer while you squirted, for the very first time, soaking Eddie and the couch, pushing him out of your pussy.

He moved quickly, putting two fingers roughly inside you and moving them with ferocity as he coaxed you through the biggest orgasm you'd ever had. You screamed, loudly, honestly worrying Eddie that the neighbours would hear, so he clamped another hand over your mouth, keeping the noise contained. Your muffled screams just coaxed him to an orgasm on their own, he was sure of it.

He had been close to his climax, but this new change of events was okay with him. He could've cum just from knowing how well he satisfied you.

Your heavy breathing continued for a minute, and in a cock drunk state you looked at him, smiling stupidly while he just watched you, still softly fingering you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"I made you squirt," he said, stupid, goofy grin all over his face. He continued stroking his fingers in you.

"You didn't cum," you pouted, looking at his still rock hard cock.

"Guess we'll have to just start all over again, pretty petal, but why don't we get you some water first."

And before you understood what was happening, two were standing in the kitchen, Eddie bending you over the counter and slipping his cock back inside you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, and to get his fingers back on you clit. Your back pressed into his chest, and he pumped into you slowly.

"More," you muttered, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

"Hmm," he mused, grinning down at the sight of your ass slapping against his abdomen. "I don't know if you can take it..."

"I can," you whined, trying to fuck yourself harder on his cock, but his arms restricted you, not letting you take what you wanted.

"Tell me you can take it," he said, "convince me that you can take it."

And you wriggled free of his grip, climbing onto the counter and laying on your back. Eddie watched with a grin on his face, as you spread your legs wide for him, angling yourself at the perfect height for him to ravage you again. He took his place between your thighs, and rubbed himself up and down on your pussy.

"I can take it," you promised, "I want you to fuck me like you hate me, daddy."

"Is that what you want?" he asked, continuing to slide his tip through your juices, leaving a trail down to your asshole. He popped the tip into your pussy, pulling it out almost immediately.

"Please," you whined, "please fuck me, I can take it. I love it, I want you to hurt me. I want you to fuck me until you fuck me full of your cum. I want you to take it all out on me," you begged, staring straight into his eyes.

"Dirty little mouse," he said. He loved when you broke out of your shell. When you could talk about all your dirty desires with him. "Let's go to bed," he said, wicked smile ever present. "I want to ruin you on those cute pink sheets of yours."

He took your hand, helping you off the counter, like a gentlemen, and then followed you to your room.

"On your knees on the bed," he said as soon as you got in the room. You you crawled on, ass in the air over the edge of the bed, shaking your ass the perfect spot for him to come take you, he did just that, walking up behind you and thrusting two of his fingers into your hole. You moaned, and he moved them aggressively, hitting that delicious spot roughly over and over, and over.

"I'm gunna fuck you full, alright." He was mumbling behind you, working his fingers quickly, hitting your g-spot like he own it and twirling circles around your clit. "Just gotta make you cum again real quick, and then I'm gunna fuck you totally full of my babies." He grinned, turned on by the imagery of you, all round and pregnant with his baby. Maybe one day...

You were getting close again, your arms buckled and you fell onto your chest, your cheek squishing into the soft duvet Eddie loved so much.

It was too much, he knew you too well. You couldn't resist if you wanted to. You moaned knowing he was right, he was going to make you cum again, quickly and with ease. His tongue poked out in complete concentration, followed by a smile as he felt you tighten up. Standing up, he kept the circles on your clit going, but quickly switched out his fingers for his cock, angling himself until he felt your g-spot again.

You screamed again, muffling yourself in the blankets. And the feeling of his big dick penetrating you when you were that close, made you come undone again, you came around his cock, clenching him so tightly he threw his head back in pleasure.

He moved away from your clit, letting his dick be your only guide through another orgasm, and he was back to gripping your ass. He fucking loved that ass. He spanked it, gripped it, held it open, and then out of nowhere he leaned forward to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you back up, and holding it taut so you were forced to stay on your hands. You moaned, the pain was just another sensation of pleasure.

"You stay like that baby, looks so fucking good." He groaned, his dick twitching inside you, he was close. He wanted to cum so fucking bad, he needed the relief.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure so great that you couldn't contain it. Couldn't even speak. Eddie fucked you stupid, and you didn't want him to stop. You wanted to be ruined by him. You wanted him to take total claim of you, marking you as his for the rest of forever.

"So fucking good -" he grunted, thrusting harder into you, hitting the back wall with every thrust, making sure to hit you with his full length everytime. "So fuck tight baby, you're so fucking tight. That's all for me, yeah? Just for me," he mumbled, thumb poking into your asshole, and you moaned.

"For you," you muttered weakly, pathetically. You could barely get the words out, the new sensation of his fingers proding a new hole made your pussy tighten again.

"I think I can get you there one more time, huh? What do you say, puppet? Cum for daddy one more time?"

You nodded, feeling like you were close already. He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, arching your back as much as possible to give him even more access to you. He spread your ass open so he could see it all. Watch as he pummeled your little pussy.

"Gunna c.." you moaned, "gunna please."

"What's that? I don't know what you're saying down there baby."

"I'm g-gunna fuck," you whined, "it's- again."

"What're you? Stupid? Use your words, baby, tell me," he cooed, egging you on when he knew damn well what you were saying, and your walls became impossibly tight around him.

"I'm gunna cum," you whined, finding your voice finally, and you continued to raise it as you said, "please, daddy. Please, I'm gunna fucking cum, you fuck me so good."

"Was that so hard?" he asked, finding your clit with a wet thumb and rubbing circles on it until he felt you come undone again, biting the duvet to keep from wailing and alerting the whole fucking town to what Eddie doing.

He couldn't hold back anymore, and he followed through on his promises, continuing to fuck you as he came ribbons into your cunt, the liquids pooling up and dripping out around his cock. He watched with stars in his eyes at the sight of your pretty pussy taking all his juices.

He slowed down, his dick still inside you but softer. He cooed at you, praising you for being so good.

"Baby, that was... wow," he said, pulling out of you. He ran a comforting hand down your back, gripping your ass gently one more time. "I love you, I love you so much."

Eddie ran a finger over your pussy, to your clit, making your whole body jerk when he touched it. Your cum and his mashed together, an indistinguishable mess between your legs. You didn't move, just stayed face down ass up while Eddie worshipped up, touching you softly all over the place.

"My love," he said, taking your hand softly, returning to his nurturing boyfriend stat like he hadn't just treated you like a whore. His whore... "C'mon sweet girl, let's go get some water and a shower."

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Could you please do LDS boys +

Caleb reacting to reader being injured/severely injured?<3

HCs: You're Injured (ft. main trio + Caleb)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (seperate)

Tags: hurt/comfort, reader is injured but won't die

A/N: Thanks for your request! First time writing for Caleb, yay. Sorry if it isn't good enough, I'm not feeling so good since morning.

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Caleb

"Hold on, pip-squeak, I'm right here."

Your exhausted body, covered in wounds from the battle with Wanderer, was ready to collapse to the ground if Caleb hadn't caught you in time.

He knew how dangerous your job was, but that didn't make him any less worried.

You protected him but got hurt in the process.

He's frustrated and angry because there's no way he could've protected you in that situation.

And Caleb just hates this feeling, but trying to stay calm for your sake. His emotions could only make everything worse.

"Sometimes even big girls need someone else's help. Right? And I'm here for you."

Concern was written all over his face, he couldn't hide it even if he really tried. The last thing he wanted was to see you hurt, especially like this.

He was supposed to be your main protector back then. But now things have changed.

You had really grown a lot, not just physically, but mentally too.

It was just hard to accept you're no longer a little girl.

Yes, you are strong and mature. But Caleb kept holding you like you were the most fragile being in the world.

He will give you first aid as quickly as he can, while calling an ambulance. Caleb is not the kind of person who would risk your life trying to handle this situation on his own.

Definitely going to the hospital with you while holding your hand and talking to you. He'll be around as long as it takes.

Probably will fall asleep on the chair near your hospital bed.

No doubt he'll continue to look after you like he did when you both were younger.

Rafayel

"No, no, no. Don't even think about leaving me like this!"

Maybe sometimes Rafayel was overly dramatic, but he's actually afraid of losing you again.

When he saw that you were injured after not-so-pleasant encounter with Wanderers, his facade of self-confidence instantly cracked.

Rafayel started panicking and it was clear from the look on his face as he crouched beside you, seeing how you trying to cover the wound by your bloody hands.

Not again. No.

All these years he had to watch you die over and over again, losing all memories of him.

Rafayel instantly began to examine your wounds, holding you close. He didn't care if his perfectly white shirt will be covered in blood as well.

He needed to be sure you won't die this time.

And his playful attitude is gone completely.

"Don't you dare to die on me, you hear? I won't forgive you. Ever. Promise me. Promise me you won't die."

He tried to remain calm and ignore the suffocating feeling of anxiety that has been slowly rising in his chest. But he couldn't.

Will do everything to stop the bleeding while help is on it's way. You can feel his hands trembling.

He'd better die for you himself, not vice versa.

I swear, this man is gonna get the whole hospital on alert. Nurses and doctors can be mad at him as much as they want. It doesn't matter to him.

Rafayel won't rest and eat properly until you get better. He just physically can't.

"Don't scare me like this ever again, please."

Xavier

"I failed you."

You accidentaly got injured during your mission. And poor Xavier decided it was totally his fault.

You both found yourself surrounded by enemies and before he could even react, one of them attacked you, leaving a deep wound on your side.

Needless to say, in the next couple of seconds all Wanderers were completely destroyed, and Xavier was fully focused on you.

This isn't the first time you've been injured during a mission. But each time Xavier is as worried as always.

Especially when your injuries are so severe.

Will administer first aid on the spot, even the bare minimum, before carrying you to safety.

With Wanderers around, it's not going to be easy to get you out of this dangerous zone. So Xavier needs to stabilize you a little at first.

"I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

He is already experienced in these situations, so he's able to keep his emotions under control. But that doesn't mean that deep inside he isn't worried sick about you.

Will be looking for anything to treat your wound and avoid infection.

Guilt will slowly eat him up from the inside no matter what. He had to protect you, but he failed to do so.

Even if you assure him it's just an accident, Xavier just shakes his head in response.

As soon as you can get out, he'll take you to the hospital. It is unlikely that his skills will be enough to make your wound heal properly.

Better safe than sorry.

He still has a lot of work to do, but he'll come to you whenever he has a spare minute.

Will probably act like a guilty puppy for a long time.

Zayne

"You're constantly putting yourself in danger."

Zayne has a hard time showing his feelings openly, especially when it comes to you, so it's no surprise that his display of concern felt like he was scolding you.

But in reality he's really, really worried about you every time.

He knew right away that you were in the hospital after another accident.

And as soon as Zayne had some time off between surgeries, he came to you.

Looking at you in the hospital bed, he felt his heart ache.

While he was desperately searching for a cure for your heart, you kept getting hurt again and again.

Even when you smiled, like if trying to reassure him everything's fine, Zayne only sighed and shook his head. You have no idea how hard it was to see you hurt and vulnerable like this.

He's already been informed of the severity of your wounds and how much blood you've lost.

And he could've lost you.

But Zayne can't let his emotions take over. There are still a few more difficult surgeries ahead where he cannot afford to make a mistake.

And if he starts panicking right in front of you, it's not going to speed up the healing process.

"I'd be happy if you took a more responsible approach to your health. Then I wouldn't have to be so worried."

He moved his chair closer to your bed and sat in silence for a while, squeezing your hand.

Zayne will stay around as long as his job lets him.

Don't be surprised to find candies or plushies you wanted on your nightstand.

You can ask him about these little gifts.

And watch carefully as a faint smile appears on his lips.

"Usually only children get so excited about toys. So it turns out you're not that far from being a child?"

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

[nariism]

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[seventeenytiny]

SKZ - You Struggle with Pain During Sex

SMUT MDNI

Warnings: Smut MDNI, oral sex, cockwarming Word Count: 565 Author's Note: This is for all my girlies who don't always have the best time during sex. Be sure to talk to your obgyn to make sure there's not an underlying issue :)

Bang Chan - As soon as you inform him of the issue, he immediately starts researching what he can do to help. After reading through numerous medical pages and blogs, he comes up with a few ideas. He gets multiple types of lube for both of you to try, to see if that helps alleviate your discomfort. When you guys do have sex, he constantly checks in with you to see if the position is comfortable. If not, he switches it up. If nothing seems to feel good he might suggest cockwarming. Even if the two of you can't actually have sex he still feels satisfied just spooning you from behind with his cock buried in your pussy. He swears he could fall asleep like that.

Lee Know - He feels bad that you can't enjoy sex the way he can. His solution? Lots of oral sex. He already loves eating you out, so now he does it even more. He has no problem pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. If you're feeling up to PIV sex afterward that's just an added bonus.

Changbin - He takes such good care of you. As soon as you mention you're in pain, he stops everything and pulls out. He'd suggest trying again another day to see if the problem persists. Like Chan, he's also a big fan of cockwarming. Holding you close without moving significantly reduces your pain but still makes you two feel good.

Hyunjin - He decides to give you a nice sensual massage when you have pain during sex. He takes some lube and uses it as massage oil, gently massaging your entire body. He starts by rubbing the knots out of your shoulders before gradually moving down to your pussy. His hands massage your thighs and gently approach your core. He expertly rubs your clit, coaxing out an orgasm.

Jisung - After you tell him about the issue, he buys you a brand-new vibrator. He starts incorporating it into your intimate moments, and it's honestly the best thing ever. Sometimes you'll put the vibrator against the tip of his cock while you grind on it with your clit. This will have the both of you cumming at the exact same time.

Felix - He's such a sweetie about the whole situation. He would be the type to suggest that you talk to your OBGYN about your issues. He'd even accompany you to your appointments to make you feel better. He feels really bad about you experiencing pain during something that's supposed to be pleasurable. He would buy you every toy he can find that might bring you pleasure.

Seungmin - He'd suggest trying some mutual masturbation. He doesn't want to cause you any discomfort so it's best for him to just watch you pleasure yourself as he does the same. Doing this allows you to find what's comfortable for your body as well, possibly leading to more PIV sex in the future.

I.N - He'd notice your face wincing in pain and stop everything immediately. He'd ask why you didn't say anything if you were uncomfortable. Once you explain to him that you didn't want to disappoint him, so you sucked it up, he feels even worse. The two of you decide to just get creative with your hands, he knows how much you love his hands anyway. The two of you take turns drawing orgasms out of one another.

[junipers-archive]

Sweater

Word Count: 600

Includes: fluff! the team finds out about reader x Spencers relationship when you show up to work wearing one of his sweaters

"Y/n." It was Penelope, she was whispering conspicuously as you entered the office heading for the conference room.

"Goodmorning!" You answer quickly as you were already running late due to your much needed coffee run this morning.

She begins to trail after you. "Y/n."

You stop, now wondering what's wrong, especially as all the heads in the room begin looking towards you as you walk in. But it isn't until Derek speaks up that you're hinted as to why,

"So you and pretty boy finally did it?" Oh no.

You mind races trying to figure out how he knew. Did Spencer tell him? You'd agreed not to tell anyone at first so you wouldn't cause absolute chaos. But it's been sixth months you guess it's be perfectly reasonable if-

"Your-your Sweater...its Spencers." Penelope elaborates, calming you rampant mind, all at the same time making it spasm.

You look down silently at what you're wearing, its almost identical as your regular getup, but because you were really running late this morning you'd grabbed a sweater from the couch in your shared apartment on your way out.

Completely missing the fact it was Spencers. It had been a soft cobalt blue color crew neck, one of his favorites with little designs lining it in navy...and also one he wore quite often.

You stared in both disbelief from how you'd manage to grab the one he used most consistently and also at your own stupidity and how you'd failed to notice the whole car ride here.

You look up bewilderedly, to find your colleagues staring at you all in varying ways, Derek was grinning, Rossi was smirking, Penelope had taken to a worried/excited look, Emily was respectfully trying to hide her smile and even Hotch was pretending to read the papers in front of him to avoid eye contact.

You attempt a reply calmly but stammer despite yourself,

"I-I-we-um"

closing your eyes to focus your thoughts and breathe, you open them to find Spencer your lovely boyfriend entering or rather staggering into the room.

He had taken the long route so you'd show up at different times,

"Hi! Sorry I'm late-I just-I-What-why's everybody looking at me like that?"

Everyone shaking their heads and smiling to themselves ignored his question as Penelope began to brief all of you on the case.

You hope the subject will be forgotten.

But of course it won't be, and surprisingly its Hotch that asks once the case had been explained and he'd called wheels up,

"Are you two dating?"

Everyone was still seated, waiting for something to be said, and you could see the pleasure in all their faces as he uttered the question.

Spencer swallowed though, not having become aware of the situation even after you'd tried to pass him a note like some third grader.

It had read: I'm wearing your sweater!

To which he'd simply responded with, I'm sure no one's noticed.

Having of course not been aware of your previous interaction with the team.

"We-uh-well-" he tried to begin

"Yes. We are dating." You had to confirm it, knowing if you didn't it would only make matters worse in the long run.

To that Hotch gave his lopsided smirk, "I'm Happy for you, but I'm not thrilled to do the paperwork."

The team of course having heard, errupted in giggles, reminiscent of child like giddy as they finally took it as their cue to leave.

And as they filed out Spencer received several pats on the backs and "good going reid" from Rossi and Derek as you yourself had been berated with questions from Emily and Penelope and "I swear to god if he hurts you-"'.

But as you both shyly retreat, gather your things and exit you agree that the best reaction had been from Hotch as he whispered quietly before he left,

"Well I guess I have to let you room together now."