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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months

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BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks. CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present.

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things.

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple.

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas.

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.”

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things.

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat.

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!”

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.”

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.”

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean.

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional.

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.”

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.”

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough.

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles.

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.”

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole.

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror.

But not JM.

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility.

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February.

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home.

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’.

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that.

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'.

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome.

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out.

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?”

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head.

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.”

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck?

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed?

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman.

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone.

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her.

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip.

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass.

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft.

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?”

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you.

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him.

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.”

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.”

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning.

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.

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slvttyplum · 5 months

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bro i accidentally posted this while it wasnt even closed to finish and i lost the fucking request sorry anon.

getting you wasn't easy; it was quite hard, but satoru knew he was up for the challenge. even though you tried to act like you weren't interested in him, he could see the bedroom eyes you would give him every time he came into contact with you. your gaze lingering on his a bit longer than needed was his motivation; he couldn't get over those beautiful eyes you had. m

they even showed up in his dreams; he could even hear your voice. he was going crazy thinking about you, but who wouldn't?

weeks went by of him just thinking about you and how to get you to even send another one of your sexy glances at him. it wasn't until a month after finals that you showed up to his party, not knowing it was actually his. when his eyes landed on yours, he knew what he had to do. he didn't care if he embarrassed himself or even got rejected; he just wanted your soft voice to slide into his ears.

you went a whole month without seeing him, yet your friends picked him up every chance they got. your head was pounding from hearing his name; it was insane, yet it brought you a little sense of comfort. now, you wouldn't say you were the asiest person to get at, but frat guys just weren't your type; satoru was a little different though.

even though he was silly and not that mature yet, his face was not bad to look at.

"you came to college to be a wet blanket? get at him." your friend's words echo in your ear as satoru approaches you, reminding you that this was never going to be a serious thing, so just go for it, but you were wrong.

your relationship started like any other one: hooking up, and it felt so fucking good that you didn't even want to go home after; satoru didn't want you to leave his bed either. his arms wrapped around you and his dick still inside of you while he slept—this is what happened every time the both of you had free time or during the weekends.

your friends were blowing up your phone, asking you where you were, and your cheeks were turning warm as you looked to your side. it was embarrassing how you were in his bed more than you were in your own. what turned into fun and purely trying to live your college experience turned into love for both you and satorus part.

usually people can tell when someone is not genuine with their words or actions, how fake and phony everything they did was, but when it came to satoru, everything he did was real; the way he spoke to you and touched you, it was all genuine.

touching you in ways no one else would; he was in love with you.

doing things for you that he wouldn't do for anyone else, putting you before everyone and anything else; you were the most important person to him, and you loved him for that.

give frat boy satoru a little grace; he isn't that terrible.

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on-leatheredwings · 6 months

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Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid.

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody.

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk.

… Therapist’s orders.

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates.

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman.

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere.

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver.

You sigh.

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal.

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed.

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ.

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly.

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–”

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…”

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch.

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.”

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice.

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say.

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare.

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking?

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right.

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react.

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths.

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out.

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain.

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong–

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.”

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do.

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable.

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore.

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #mine #tw baby trapping #tw noncon

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plutoswritingplanet · 5 months

Text

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up.

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors. He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again.

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board.

There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently.

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one.

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You have to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in.

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage.

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting.

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really.

It started with Old Lady Sal.

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen.

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf.

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland.

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over.

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can.

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion.

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly.

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck.

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero.

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame.

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid.

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake.

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door.

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother.

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise.

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words.

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain.

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer.

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul.

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together.

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you.

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers.

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth.

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later.

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead.

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface. The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands.

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions.

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight.

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table.

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys.

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently.

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones.

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression.

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants.

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers.

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again.

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones.

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders.

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff.

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too.

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package.

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck.

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days.

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen.

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin.

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner.

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave.

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs.

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you.

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly.

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance.

- You serious?

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up.

- Wait.

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue.

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe.

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily.

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin.

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes. If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender.

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins.

#my writing #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #i walt on his goggins till we fallout

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 1 year

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Vacation: Part one

PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing :: OPLA!Sanji x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Oral(f recieving), Semi-Public sex(they did it in an alley), Light teasing

Word Count :: 3,373

Summary :: After being forced on a vacation at the Baratie, you catch the eye of a certain blond cook who loves to tease you.

A/N :: I was trying to find the right mix between pervert simp anime Sanji and suave charming live-action Sanji. There will for sure be a part two.

Go watch the One Piece live-action.

“I see a place we can stop to make repairs, Captain Tommy,” You said, eye still focused on the small floating mass in the distance.

You worked on a merchant ship for a wealthy businessman named Greylock. You were his top secret contract negotiator. The reason you were a “secret” was because he never introduced you as a negotiator. You would always find your way to sneak into his potential clients’ and contract partners’ inner circle to figure out what type of people they were and what they wanted. With this personal knowledge, you would then come up with the best plan of action to secure a beneficial deal for the business. It was easy for you thanks to your typically quiet demeanor. You knew when to stay silent and read the room.

Captain Tommy, Greylock’s business partner, set a course for the wooden structure floating. “Let’s hope the owner’s kind enough to let us port for a while.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to repair the damages?”

“The storm banged us up pretty good, not to mention all the scrapes we’ve gotten from pirates.” He glanced around the ship. “I’d say at least three to four weeks.”

You cursed quietly under your breath. “Greylock isn’t going to be happy about that.”

Captain Tommy shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. The ship’s falling apart. We won’t be able to make it to a port town before the ship sinks.”

You knew Greylock would be upset once you told him, so you took precocious measures to alleviate the anger.

You stood with him on the deck, watching as you approached your soon-to-be temporary home. "You know sir, you've been mentioning wanting to take a vacation for a while."

He sighed, shrugging. "That's because I'm getting older and tired of working. I became a merchant to see the world, not to work endlessly."

"Well then, how about you finally take that vacation now while we repair the ship?"

He turned his head to give you a weary look. "Take a vacation while the ship is repaired?"

You nodded with a smile. "Captain Tommy told me it would take at least three weeks to repair the ship. Instead of worrying about work, you should relax during that time."

"(Y/N)-"

"And you can give the crew a chance to rest. Were y'all dreary from that dreadful storm, not to mention the attacks we had to endure before?" You patted his shoulder. "You know what they say, a happy crew is a dutiful crew. And a tired crew typically ends up killing someone."

Grey lock laughed at your made-up saying, but you were able to persuade him. "You're right. We've been working too hard recently without a break." He looked out once more, finally in the distance to see the name of the place you'll all be staying for the next month. "Lads!" He shouted loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "I want you lot to enjoy yourselves at the Baratie. Think of our unscheduled stop as a surprise resort! Haha!"

Immediately the crew lit up. While everyone cheered and began to talk about what they'd do with their spare time, aside from repairs, you looked up at Captain Tommy. He had a small smirk, giving you a wink. He knew if anyone could get Greylock to give the entire crew a break, it'd be you.

You walked into Baratie behind Greylock and Captain Tommy. It was typically for the three of you to grab a bite together whenever you arrived at a new town so that you could discuss your work objectives. Today, however, it was simply a meal between friends.

A fish man greeted you at the entrance, accepting a small fee before allowing you to take your seats.

You looked over the menu, wondering what to try first. You'd be around for a while and we're sure you'd get to try a few items on the menu before departing. Greylock and Captain Tommy chatted with one another, used to your silence. They knew that you spoke when you felt you needed to.

The swing doors to the kitchen flew open. You glanced up from the menu, seeing a blond man to have caused the small ruckus. He looked upset, brows furrowed and tight lips turned down.

'I wonder what got him so riled up,' You thought.

You kept your eyes on him, noticing he was making his way to your table with a tray of bread rolls in hand. When he was about halfway, he noticed you sitting right of Greylock and his mood instantly seemed to pick up. After his eyes locked with yours, his gaze lit up and a dashing smile graced his lips.

Seeing his mood do a complete one-eighty after spotting you, you shot your eyes back down to your menu. 'Please don't be our waiter. Please don't be our waiter. Plea-'

"Hello gentlemen and fair lady, my name is Sanji. What would you like to drink to start you off? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock."

Almost throughout his entire introduction, you could feel his line of sight fixed on you. He didn’t mind that you didn’t look at him. It allowed him to sneak a glance at your chest without being noticed.

"Anything fancy would be a waste on me. I'll just have a simple whiskey to start with," Greylock said. Captain Tommy put up two fingers, requesting the same.

"And what will you be having, darling?"

"Hm… I'll have a sweet tea."

"A sweet drink for a sweet girl understood."

Your eyes shot towards him, a little shocked by his straightforward demeanor. He gave you a quick wink before walking away.

Now, it was time for the old men to act like school girls.

Greylock started the teasing first. "Awe, our little (Y/N) has a young man who's interested in her,"

"And by the small blush on her cheeks, I'd say she's interested too."

"Wh-what blush?" You stuttered, only now feeling the heat center in your cheeks.

"The one that's covering your entire face." Captain Tommy laughed.

"Shut up. I was just caught off guard by his remark." You practically shoved your face into the menu, embarrassed to face the men before you any longer.

They continued laughing for a moment before talking about what to order.

After Sanji came back with your drinks, it was time for you three to place your orders. Again, your colleagues ordered before you. This time though, you spoke right when Captain Tommy finished his sentence.

"And I will have the seared ahi tuna."

"Do you want the chocolate sin cake after for dessert, love? It's so moist it'll melt in your mouth, I promise," He said in a sultry tone for no other apparent reason than to get a rise out of you.

And once more, you were left stunned and your face was heating up. You were certain he was only teasing you, but you were still upset giving him the presumed reaction he wanted.

"She would love the chocolate cake!" Greylock's hand patted your back hard, causing you to fall forward a bit on the table. "It's been a while since she's had a good pastry."

“Coming right up.”

He left with a swift turn on his heels and when he was out of sight you glared daggers at the two accompanying you.

“What do you think you’re doing, sir?”

“Trying to make sure you have a fun time here.” He took a swig of his whiskey before continuing. “Listen, you’re always working hard for us, and you rarely make any time for yourself.”

You sink in your seat a bit. He was right. On the rare occasion you did flirt with others, it was to secure a deal, and then, you were gone.

“Plus, the boy’s easy on the eyes. You’d be mad to not give him a chance.” He bursted out laughing.

Captain Tommy was a bit more comforting with his words. “You probably won’t interact with him much, so don’t mind him.”

Choosing to believe him, you relaxed for the remainder of the meal. ‘Captain Tommy’s right. As long as I don’t come here again, I probably won’t run into him.’

Too bad you had a crew that loved to go out because about two days later, you found yourself back at the Baratie. This time, Sanji wasn’t your waiter which you were more than thankful for. Captain Tommy and Greylock might’ve teased you a bit, but the men with you now would have embarrassed you so much you would never step foot out of your living quarters again.

Around mid-way into your meal, you excused yourself from the table to go use the restroom. While walking down the hallway, your attention was on the various paintings that decorated the wall.

Since you weren’t paying much attention to what was in front of you, you collided with a firm chest. You nearly stumbled back until a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

“Ah-! I-I’m so sorry! I should have been paying attention to where I was… going…” You looked up at the person you had bumped into, locking eyes with a familiar blue-eyed blond.

He gave you a large grin, replying. “No need to apologize madam. I should be the one apologizing,” You tilted your head, “for disturbing a fine piece of art like you.”

You immediately turned away, hoping he wouldn’t catch your growing blush. “Can you please let me go?” You asked timidly.

You felt his hold tighten for a quick second before letting you go. Without another word, you rushed past him to the women's restroom.

Sanji watched you run away, a playful grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with this one,” He mumbled, already missing the feeling of your body pressed against his.

This would be how every interaction you had with the blonde cook and occasional waiter, played out. You would try to be formal with him, he'd make a flirty or suggestive comment, and then you'd start to blush or stutter.

Typically it was whenever you went to eat at Baratie, but there were a few occasions when he managed to catch you outside.

"I must be in heaven because I'm seeing an angel before me." You tensed up in your seat and froze upon hearing Sanji.

You were at the small outdoor bar next to the giant fish-headed restaurant. Around the end of the first week, you noticed that the place had a pretty good view of the sunset. Sure, you saw the sun set often, but you rarely actually watched it fall below the horizon line, disappearing until morning. It was a minor peaceful event you wanted to enjoy on your supposed vacation alone.

The sky had already darkened by this point. You were just around to finish the drink you had.

"Good evening, Sanji."

He sat next to you, pouting playfully. "Come on m, (Y/N). We've known each other for over two weeks now. There's no need for you to keep acting so stuffy all the time."

You crossed your arms. "I'm not stuffy."

"Yes, you are. Every time I see you it's always a quick sentence or two before nothing but silence. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

'I wish it was that simple.' In fact, you were having the opposite reaction. You were used to making contracts and business deals with people when you spoke to them. You weren't used to being openly flirted with for no reason.

Like always, you avoided making eye contact with him. This time, you fixed your attention to the remaining ice cubes in your drink.

He leaned closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Or maybe, it's because you're too shy to admit you like me," He whispered, hot breath hitting your ear and sending a tingle throughout your body.

You snapped your head around, face burning up when you saw how close he was. That damn coy smile plastered on his perfect lips.

He chuckled to himself, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Why do you keep messing with me?" You bluntly asked. Frankly, you were getting tired of his game, even if you weren't entirely sure what this game was.

This was the first time you had caught him off guard. He leaned back a bit, tilting his head. "What makes you think I'm messing with you?"

"If you actually had an interest in me, you would've told me or showed me by now. You just keep saying sweet nothings to mess with me and I'm sick of it," Your voice was growing frustrated, finally voicing your opinion. "I'm trying to enjoy my vacation, not be bothered by some- Hey!"

He grabbed your hand, lifting you from your seat with a tug and pulling you away. You followed, partly because you were unable to pull away and partly because of curiosity as to where he was taking you. He led you to a small alley a bit away.

Before you could question his intentions, he leaned down to press a firm kiss onto your lips. His hands fell to your hips, holding onto you with a firm grasp and locking you against the wall behind you. Almost as if he were afraid you’d try to escape. His nerves were quickly set to rest when you began kissing him back, your hands holding his shoulders. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you gladly parted, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth.

After some time, he pulled away and began trailing kisses down your neck. As he did, you felt his hands wander to the button of your shorts.

Feeling him work to undo them you asked him, “What are you doing?”

He pulled away, a coy smile still on his face. “Showing you that I have an interest in you.”

He began to pull your shorts down and you felt your heart begin to race. You weren’t directly out in the open, but if someone going down the main walkway happened to turn their heads they’d spot the two of you.

“Sanji, wait- What if- Ngh!”

He started rubbing your clit through your growing wet panties, chuckling at the quick response he got. “‘What if’ what, darling?”

You glared at him, trying to voice your concerns, but again, he continued to distract you with pleasure.

He knelt down on one knee, grabbing your left thigh, and hooking it over his shoulder after completely removing your shorts. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he pushed and held your underwear to the side, revealing your pussy. He stuck his tongue in first, licking up your folds while maintaining eye contact with you through his blond locks. He continued this motion and you bit your bottom lip, hoping not to make a noise.

He wasn’t having any of that though. If there was one thing he loved, it was to know he was doing a good job. At first, he had started to tease you a bit because he thought you were cute when you got flustered. As the days went on, he noticed that you might not have said much, but you couldn’t hide your physical reactions to him. Your face was almost always flushed around him. Your grip on whatever you held tightened with the simplest of sentences. It made him wonder what type of lover were you? Quiet, non-verbal, highly responsive to the slightest touches, etc.?

He had just never gotten you alone to figure it out, until now.

He sucked your clit, earning a squeal in response. Your hands immediately shot down to his head, grabbing hold of his hair.

‘She looks so cute trying to stay quiet.’

He could feel his pants tightening around his crotch, watching you squirm because of his touch. It was getting difficult for you to stay up with one leg, especially when he slotted two fingers into your wet cunt. He curved his fingers in you, moving them slowly at first before picking up the pace to match how quickly he was flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Sa-Sanji, I- I don’t think I ca-can last much longer,” You whined.

Even without you telling him, he could tell you were getting close. Your walls had started to tighten around his fingers and he had to hold the thigh of your standing leg to support you. He would’ve loved to have you come undone around his tongue, however, for his first time with you, he wanted to fully see your expression.

He pulled away and you let out a loud sigh of relief, panting a bit. You were a little disappointed you hadn’t finished but were hopeful to continue this in a more private enclosed area. Your head was a bit fuzzy though, and you didn’t pick up on the small noise of him undoing his trousers or when he completely pulled down your panties.

He grabbed your thighs and housed you up to position the head of his penis right at your entrance. When you felt it rub against your slick folds, your eyes widened. The two of you watched as he pushed his cock in, seeing it disappear in your cunt. He groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment at how tight you were wrapped around him. You whined, feeling his length fill you up.

Slowly, he rocked his hips back and forth, giving you a chance to adjust to him. He watched your face with amusement, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment in your expression. You were still biting down on your lip, hoping to be as discrete as possible given the situation you were in.

With one swift hard thrust though, you let out a moan. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, allowing him to clearly hear all your little whimpers and mewls of delight.

After hearing your moan, he began to thrust harder, wishing to hear more of your voice. You could hear his grunting too, breath growing heavier and heavier with each stroke inside you.

No longer needing to hold you up with both hands, one of them slipped underneath your shirt, sliding under the cup of your bra. He groped your breast, happy at how soft it was in his hand.

The harder he continued to thrust, the shakier your moans got. You were getting close to your release again and he wasn’t far behind, his own breathing now becoming ragged. Now, with each thrust, he could feel your walls tighten around him. Wanting to make sure he got a good look at your face when you came, he briefly removed his hand from your breast to tug your hair back. With your face pulled away from his neck, he plastered his lips against yours, shoving his tongue once more in your mouth. After, his hand returned to groping your breast.

His grip on your thigh was so tight, that you were sure there would be markings. With how hard he was kissing you, your lips were bound to be puffy when he stopped.

Your mind was becoming foggy and all you were focused on was the pleasure you were in, no longer caring someone caught you. You moaned against his lips, your entire body growing tense in his hold. Your walls clamped around him, finally hitting your high.

Seeing your eyes fall shut, engrossed in the feeling of climaxing, combined with how your cunt squeezed against him, he hit deep one last time before unraveling himself. His cock pulsed in you, dumping his entire load inside, savoring how your body milked it.

He pulled away from the kiss, each of your breaths now shaky trying to regain your composure. Your head fell back against the wall, eyes remaining on him.

“What do we do now?” You asked.

“We plan out the rest of your vacation. You’re here for at least one more week, right?” He kissed your cheek. “That gives us one more week of fun, darling.”

#one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #sanji x reader #sanji smut #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #one piece sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji smut

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nanamis-angel · 1 month

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𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 ♡︎

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ৹ You and Suguru have been dating in secret and it hasn't been easy but it's totally worth it. So, while at a party, Suguru slips away to see you, not thinking anyone is around. But just how long does it take Satoru and Shoko to figure out what's going on?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ৹ suguru x fem!reader, fluff, making out (oop), you and suguru get caught kissing (losers lol), suguru is annoyed, satoru is the annoyer ™, shoko is a girls girl, yaga mention.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ৹ 2.1k

𝐚/𝐧 ৹ was literally in class when I got this idea so I started writing it in my notebook. i'm shameless (hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y).

“You could have practically any girl here, Suguru and yet you keep ignoring them all!” Gojo exclaimed at his best friend. The two of them, along with you and Shoko were at a house party of a friend. And despite his flirty personality, he noticed that a lot of the girls their age seemed to flock to Suguru. Yet he ignored their advances every single time.

“I’m just not interested,” Geto replied, putting his hands in his pockets.

Satoru scoffed. “C’mon, you can’t possibly be serious. We’re at a party, have some fun! It’s not like Yaga is breathing down our necks right now or anything.”

But again, Suguru shook his head. “Knock yourself out, I’ll pass.” He shrugged it off.

Up until a couple of months ago, the two boys would go out and meet plenty of girls and would just have fun. But as of late, Suguru had just been ignoring any girls who came his way. Politely, of course, but he always made sure that they knew he was simply uninterested. Gojo would watch as Suguru would turn them away, his jaw agape. He simply couldn’t understand it.

Truth was, Suguru had been dating you for the past couple of months but the two of you had mutually decided to keep it a secret for the first little bit. You were still navigating relationships and you wanted that aspect of privacy. Suguru, of course, wanted to give it to you. But that did make seeing each other quite difficult.

At first, Suguru had no desire to attend these parties anymore. Knowing that he’d be approached by the girls there. But Satoru begged him every time, not knowing about his relationship with you. You didn’t want Suguru to miss out on the fun and told him to go anyway. So, he did. He’d just turn away any girl who’d come his way.

Especially since you wanted to keep things on the down low, he couldn’t just tell these girls that he had a girlfriend without the possibility of the word getting out to your friends.

Satoru glanced at two girls who had their eyes set on him. “Suit yourself.” He shrugged off before putting on a flashy grin and walking towards the girls.

The moment Satoru was distracted, Suguru let out a sigh of relief. “Finally,” he groaned. “That should keep him busy for a while.”

Now was finally his time to slip away—to slip away and find you. You had wandered off with Shoko ten minutes ago and he was already itching to see you again. He pulled out his phone and texted you.

“Where are you and Shoko?”

Moments later, your text popped up on his screen. “Don’t know where Shoko went but I’m down near the bathroom.”

Suguru smiled at your message—finally, he could just be with you alone, even if it was just for a minute. He made his way through the house, ignoring anyone and everyone he walked past. He just wanted to see you and he was determined to do so.

Turning around the corner, Suguru saw you in the hallway, leaning against one of the walls and his face lit up. Shoko was nowhere in sight, and neither was anyone else, just you. He understood you wanted to keep the relationship a secret but boy did it make things hard sometimes.

“There you are,” He said, walking up to you. Immediately, his arms were around your waist, and his chin was propped up on your shoulder. “Felt like I was going to suffocate back there.” He mumbled.

You chuckled a little. “That bad, huh?” You asked him with playful empathy.

Suguru nodded his head. “Satoru can’t take a hint that I’m not interested in any of the girls here. But I can’t just outright say why.” He sighed. Keeping your relationship a secret was hard—especially from his best friend.

Mr. “Six eyes sees all, nosey, and in everyone’s business Satoru Gojo” was hard to keep a secret from. Especially when he didn’t understand why Suguru was so uninterested in the girls around him all of a sudden.

There was no rule in school saying you couldn’t date other students—however, Yaga viewed relationships in school as a distraction and while if he found out you and Suguru were together, he couldn’t do much about it, he would just make it very obvious that he didn’t approve. Which in turn, would just make things awkward.

So, all of this together was the reason why your relationship was so private and secret.

“But now… I don’t have to deal with any of these pesky people.” Suguru grinned down at you. Within seconds, he pulled you into one of the rooms right by the bathroom, just so he could kiss you in private—away from everyone else, hoping nobody would come stumbling across the two of you.

Putting far too much faith that no one would, Suguru didn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he got straight to it, not wasting any time by pressing his lips against yours. You were a little taken aback by the sudden kiss and his eagerness but you reciprocated with fervor.

It had been hard having to sneak around all the time to do something as easy and simple as kissing; like conveniently going to the bathrooms around the same time while in class—or saying you were going to get some of the cursed weapons from the shed and Suguru would offer to “come help” you every time.

Needless to say, he was making up for all of the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. He understood and respected your wishes to keep things private but boy were there enough times when he wanted to kiss you, no matter who was around.

His hands slipped from your back, down to your hips, giving them a firm but gentle squeeze. The only time you pulled away was to catch a breath, only for you to reconnect your lips with his moments later. With his hands still on your hips, he pulled you closer, kissing you harder.

Suguru was a great kisser—granted you had no one to compare him to since he was your first boyfriend but he made you feel alive every single time. He was the epitome of an amazing boyfriend. Respectful, sweet, with just the right amount of playfulness. You swore you could love him forever.

You don’t even remember when you fell for him but you were so glad you did.

But before you could continue, you heard a very familiar voice near the doorway, which caused you both to freeze right in your tracks. “Am I interrupting something?”

It was Shoko, standing in the doorway with a little mischievous grin on her face. You finally pulled away from Suguru, your face as red as a tomato and your eyes as wide as ever. “S-Shoko! Where—how’d you get here?” You asked, stumbling over your words.

“Smoke break in the bathroom,” She said, holding up a cigarette.

Of course, a smoke break. In the bathroom. In the bathroom right next to the room, you were just making out with Suguru in. Suguru mentally cursed himself for not closing the door all the way. At least that would’ve given you a second or two to pull away from each other and make things look normal.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Shoko asked, clearly not giving up on her curiosity.

“Um,” You looked at the ground for a moment. “About three and a half months…”

Shoko looked a little surprised. “Wow, that long? I always assumed something was going on between the two of you but I didn’t know you were together—especially for that long already.” She replied. It was decently impressive, given how strict and nosey Yaga was. Not to mention how nosey Satoru was. “And whose idea was it to keep this a secret for so long?”

Suguru pointed at you almost immediately and Shoko let out a snort at his quickness, provoking you to roll your eyes. Shoko’s eyes moved to Suguru. “And just where is Satoru?” She asked, knowing that the two of them were practically attached at the hip on nights like these.

Suguru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s occupied talking to some girls who were flirting with him earlier.” He answered, feeling slightly bad that he had just dipped. “I took that as a chance to come find [name].”

Shoko’s lips tugged into a grin as she looked you up and down; your lips were still slightly swollen from the passionate kisses you had just shared. “I can see that.” She teased.

Shoko had been your best friend ever since attending school but for some reason, you wanted to die of embarrassment. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a little ball and blip out of existence. It was pretty embarrassing when you were caught making out with someone, even if it was your best friend who caught you.

“Honestly? I’m just impressed you two managed to keep this a secret for so long.” She said, crossing her arms. “Yaga-sensei is practically breathing down our necks most days and Gojo is awfully nosey.”

“Trust me, it hasn’t been easy,” Suguru muttered under his breath, earning a quick glance from you.

“You’re not going to tell Yaga, are you?” You asked Shoko. Shoko wasn’t a snitch—you knew that much but there was a little anxiety in the back of your mind that word might somehow get out to your teacher and make things awkward in places like the classroom.

“You won’t hear a word from me,” Shoko replied.

You let out a relieved sigh and smiled but it got you wondering why you were even anxious to say something about your relationship before. You reached out and your fingers laced with Suguru’s and he squeezed your hand.

However, just moments later, you heard footsteps coming from behind Shoko and towards the doorway to the room. It was Satoru, stumbling over after hearing your voices. “Is Suguru over here? He just disappeared.” He said, his voice slightly dazed.

But his slight daze immediately went away when he saw you standing right next to Suguru, your hand in his. “Ooooohhh what’s going on here?” He teased, leaning his arm on Shoko’s shoulder. It was pretty obvious what was going on. He had observed enough, and Suguru had talked about you enough to know that you liked each other at the very least.

Shoko rolled him off her shoulder and you narrowed your eyes at Satoru. You knew it was practically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut about certain things and you weren’t taking any chances.

“Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.” You said firmly. You almost sounded like a mother scolding a young child.

“Okay fine,” He groaned, knowing there was no use in fighting you. He could tease or annoy Suguru all day but you were definitely not the girl he wanted to cross. You were not as forgiving as your boyfriend was. “How come I’m the last one to know about this though?” He looked at Suguru, feigning humorous offense.

Suguru began to walk towards the door, your hand still in his. There was no use in trying to hide anything around Shoko and Satoru anymore, so why would he? “Because you have trouble keeping quiet about certain things.” He replied to Satoru as he passed by him. “AKA you have a big mouth.”

Shoko just snickered, following you and Suguru out of the room. “What? What do you mean?” Satoru exclaimed, following behind the three of you. “I can keep a secret! I promise. C’mon you guys I’m not that bad!”

“Name one secret you’ve kept,” You said, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Satoru hesitated as if he was trying to think of one he could say. But then he crossed his arms and turned his nose up. “Well, I can’t say them because they’re a secret, obviously.”

Although this was obviously not true, it earned around of laughs from the three of you as you returned to the party. Even though this wasn’t how you planned your night to go, part of you was quite relieved that you no longer had to hide your relationship with Suguru around Shoko and Satoru. It felt like a weight had been taken off of your shoulders.

And Suguru? He was the most relieved out of all of them.

And he definitely kissed you a lot that night.

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beneathashadytree · 2 months

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RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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luveline · 1 year

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Derek and shy!reader maybe? Meeting the team for the first time and none of them are expecting Derek's partner to be standing half-hidden behind him, shyly waving at them instead of saying anything

thank you for ur request! fem!reader

"So what's the deal?" Emily asks Penelope, licking the stem of her paper umbrella dry before dropping it onto a napkin. "He's suddenly going steady?"

"Can you call five months sudden?" Rossi asks.

Hotch nudges him.

"What?" Rossi asks. "Can you? Five months is a long time."

"And that's why you had to send Christmas cards to three different divorce lawyers this year," Emily says.

Emily has a penchant for saying the occasional brazen comment, but JJ confiscates her friend's margarita anyways, before the booze loosens her lips and she says something worse. It's a small jet.

"It's not like Morgan," Spencer agrees, standing at Rossi's other side, looking less out of place than usual.

"It's totally like him," Penelope says.

Hotch's smile is hard to read, which is a spectacle considering current company. "I agree."

"Here he is now," Penelope says excitedly, clapping her hands in front of her chest.

Derek strides into the bar and past its patrons without a care in the world. He looks happy, content, and the team doesn't need to see you to know you're with him. He smiles at his phone at work exactly as he smiles now, with his arm stretched backwards to tether you along.

You come into view as the crowd thins. You're not what anyone's expecting, certainly not plain but nor are you dressed up. Emily, in her tipsiness, declares that you look adorable, and receives a reproachful look from Hotch in reward.

"Hey Derek!" JJ calls as soon as he's near enough.

"Hey, guys. Mama, you remember what we talked about?" Derek asks Penelope.

She nods sagely. "Restraint. I'm restraining myself. Oh my god you're so cute, I'm Penelope! I'm so happy to meet you."

"Hi," you say.

No less than five pairs of eyes fall to your hand as you twist your fingers into Derek's sleeve. He doesn't bat an eye, taking a half step in front of you, a picture of casualness as he introduces you to each of them in turn.

"It's nice to meet you," Hotch says, seemingly speaking for the whole group.

You raise your hand and give a stilted wave. Your eyes look sad and stressed at once, but you don't sound either, softly saying, "You too."

Derek wraps a muscled arm behind your neck, grinning while he meets Penelope's eyes. "What are we drinking tonight?"

Your eyebrows pinch up at the starts. You smile at them all despite your obvious nervousness, and it's enough for each of them to reach the same conclusion simultaneously. You're shy, but you're good. A broad sweep yet easy to make. It's obvious how much you care for Derek if you'd been willing to meet them like this when you clearly don't feel comfortable.

Luckily for you, Penelope is excellent as making people feel welcome. "We're drinking Y/N's choice. What do you like? Sugar shots? Mojitos?"

Your lips part, unprepared for a direct question so soon.

Derek turns his head to yours, giving you what Emily deems the most ridiculous puppy dog eyed smile anyone has ever given, and what Rossi knows is a ring waiting to happen. He should know.

"Let's go figure it out. Another round, from me?" he offers.

He's quick to steer you away, but not too quick to miss Rossi's, "Something strong if you want us old timers to stay!"

They wait for you to be safely out of earshot before they condense, bad gossips and worse actors off the job. "Who would've thought?" Emily asks.

"She's not what I was expecting," JJ says.

"Are we that intimidating?" Rossi asks, raising his eyebrows. The answer being yes, of course, though none of them are aware of just how scary they can be. You'd felt like you were standing in front of a pack of wolves.

"She seemed nice," Spencer says. Trust him to say something sweet. Trust the rest of Derek's friends to agree, the group nodding and humming at various pitches.

"She seemed silent," Emily jokes.

Penelope crosses her fingers and closes her eyes, earrings swinging against the blond tresses of her curled hair as she drops her head. "God, my muffin deserves nice. Please let this work out, she looks so sweet. I just wanna pinch her cheeks."

"It's gonna work out," Hotch says surely.

If Derek could hear him, he'd agree on the spot, but he's too busy praising you halfway across the room for such a stellar introduction.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

Text

DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #The Dauntless Matchmaker #Damian Wayne really said if you want something done right do it your self #Danny went along cause Damian has that much of a commanding presence #hes also poor and needs the job #Tim is in the trenches from Bernard leaving him

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Ruin the Friendship

Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader

Summary: you and Max refuse to confess your feelings for each other in fear of ruining your friendship. Naturally, Max chooses to ruin every date with another man you go on instead

You can’t remember a time when Max Verstappen wasn’t your best friend.

The two of you grew up together, playing in the streets of Hasselt since before you could walk. Your parents joke that you learned to crawl just so you could keep up with him.

As you got older, your friendship only grew stronger. You were inseparable, there for each other through all the ups and downs of childhood and adolescence. When Max’s karting career took off, you were his biggest supporter, traveling all over Europe on weekends whenever you could to cheer him on at races.

After he moved to Monaco when he joined Red Bull, Max begged you to come with him. “I can’t do this without my best friend by my side,” he said. You didn’t hesitate — there was nowhere you would rather be than with Max.

Now you live together in his apartment in Monte Carlo. Mornings are spent on his balcony overlooking the glistening Mediterranean, drinking coffee and chatting about everything and nothing. Evenings are filled with video games, movies, and dreams of the future.

You know everything about each other, from favorite foods to secret fears. You trust Max more than anyone else in the world. He’s your person, the other half of your soul. Sometimes you think you love him as more than a friend, but you’d never risk what you have. If you lost Max, you’d lose yourself.

Today is like any other day. Max is sitting next to you on the couch, focused intently on crushing you in Mario Kart. You’re trying your best, but he’s just too good.

“Yes!” Max pumps his fist in the air as he wins yet again. “Too easy!”

You roll your eyes and shove him playfully. “Whatever, I let you win.”

He laughs. “Sure you did.” His smile makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to suggest another round when Max’s phone rings. He grabs it off the coffee table. “It’s Christian,” he says. “Probably wants to go over strategy for the race this weekend. I better take this.”

“No problem.” You stretch your arms over your head. “I’ll make us some lunch while you talk to him.”

Max answers the call as he makes his way out to the balcony. Through the glass door you see him pacing, one hand waving animatedly as he talks. You smile and head to the kitchen.

As you rummage through the fridge, you think about the race this weekend. You couldn’t be more proud of Max and everything he’s accomplished. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he got into that car. Still, you know racing makes him happier than anything else in the world. And his happiness is what matters most to you.

You find the ingredients for Max’s favorite sandwich — nutella and banana. As you start spreading nutella on slices of bread, you hear Max call your name from the next room.

“Y/N! Come here, I need your opinion on something!”

You poke your head out of the kitchen. “Can it wait? I’m making lunch!”

“No, it’s urgent! Just come here!” He’s smiling like he has a secret.

You laugh, wiping your nutella-covered hands on a towel. “Alright, I’m coming!”

You make your way out to the balcony, wondering what Max wants your opinion on. With him, it could be anything.

“Ok, what’s up?” You ask.

Max grins and takes your hand, his eyes twinkling. “How would you feel about being my date to the FIA Gala this year?”

You stare at Max, stunned. “Your … your date? To the FIA Gala?”

He nods, still grinning. “Yeah! It’s next month in Baku. I could really use my best friend by my side for moral support on the big Red Carpet.”

Your mind is reeling. The FIA Gala is the biggest formal event of the Formula 1 season. All the top drivers and teams come dressed to the nines to celebrate the end of the championship. Rumors always swirl about who will bring the hottest date.

And Max wants you to be his.

“Are … are you sure?” You stammer. “Wouldn’t you rather bring a model or something?”

Max scoffs. “Please. You know I hate those stuffy events. But with you there cracking jokes and making fun of everybody with me, it might actually be fun for once!”

You can’t help but smile at the thought of being on Max’s arm. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

“Yes!” Max pumps his fist. “This is going to be epic. I’ll have my team sort all the details. All you have to do is show up looking gorgeous.” He winks.

You blush slightly. “I think I can manage that.”

Over the next few weeks, Max’s stylist comes by the apartment for dress fittings. You settle on a couture emerald gown with a daring slit up the leg. The perfect blend of classy and sexy.

Max lets out a low whistle when you emerge from your suite the night of the gala. “You look incredible,” he says, staring at you in awe.

You smooth down the front of your dress self-consciously. “So do you.” Max cuts a sharp figure in his black tuxedo.

He offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

Your stomach flutters as you take it. You still can’t believe you’re Max’s date tonight. Part of you wishes it were real instead of just for show.

As predicted, jaws drop when you walk the red carpet on Max’s arm. Cameras flash furiously around you.

“They’re gonna think you’re my new girlfriend,” Max murmurs in your ear.

You laugh. “Let them think what they want.” But secretly, you wish the rumors were true.

The night flies by in a blur of champagne, dancing, and laughter. You and Max stay by each other’s side the whole time, laughing and judging everyone’s outfits. It’s the most fun you’ve had in ages.

On the ride back to the hotel, Max rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You kiss the top of his head. “That’s what best friends are for.”

But as you fall asleep that night, you can’t help but wonder if Max will ever see you as more than just his best friend.

***

Not long after coming back home, you’re getting ready for your first date since the FIA Gala. After seeing you all dressed up with Max, your friend Julian finally got the nerve to ask you out. You said yes, partly to stop constantly pining for Max.

You’re meeting Julian for dinner at a nice restaurant downtown. As you put the finishing touches on your makeup, Max lounges on your bed.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Julian,” Max says, scowling. “That guy is so boring.”

You toss a pillow at him. “Stop it, he’s cute! I think it’ll be fun.”

Max catches the pillow and frowns. “What if I took you somewhere way better tonight instead?”

You pause your makeup application. “Wait, like a date?”

“What? No!” Max avoids your eyes. “Just as friends.”

You feel a twinge of disappointment. “Oh. Well, I already made plans with Julian.”

“Fine, go on your lame date,” Max grumbles. “But when Julian puts you to sleep talking about accounting, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You finish getting ready then head out to meet Julian. He greets you with a bouquet of flowers. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thanks!” You reply. The date starts off nicely. Julian is a perfect gentleman over dinner. But as the conversation wears on, you find yourself growing bored. Max was right, Julian is really dull.

Suddenly, you get a text from Max.

SOS come quick! Emergency at the apartment!

You frown, instantly worried. “Sorry Julian, I have to go. My roommate needs me.”

Julian looks disappointed but nods in understanding. “No problem. I’ll walk you out.”

You hurry home, anxious to make sure Max is okay. You burst through the apartment door. “Max! What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Max looks up casually from the couch. “Oh hey Y/N. What’s up?”

“What’s up? You texted me that there was an emergency!”

“Oh yeah, we ran out of gummy bears,” he says, waving an empty bag. “I was hungry.”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious, Max? I was on my date!”

Max grins. “Oops, my bad! But I saved you from dying of boredom with that guy. How about we order a pizza instead?”

You want to be mad at him for ruining your date. But looking at his smiling face, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible,” you say, plopping down next to him.

Max just winks and hands you a controller. “Now come on, let’s see if you can actually beat me in Mario Kart this time.”

And just like that, you forget all about Julian and your ruined date. Nothing is nearly as fun as spending time with your best friend.

***

A few days later, you’re getting ready for another date, this time with a guy named Levi who you met online. He’s gorgeous with tattoos and an edgy style, totally your type.

When you tell Max about the date over breakfast, he nearly chokes on his eggs. “You can’t be serious. That dude looks like a complete tool.”

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse. “Don’t pretend you know anything about him. I think he’s hot and he seems cool.”

Max crosses his arms. “Well I don’t like it. How do you know this guy isn’t a total creep?”

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, “But I’m a big girl. I can handle myself on a date.”

Max opens his mouth to retort but you hold up a hand. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it! I’m running late as it is.” You give Max a quick hug. “Don’t wait up!”

You meet Levi at a trendy speakeasy bar downtown. He looks even hotter than his Tinder pics, with arm tattoos peeking out from under his leather jacket.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a crooked smile. He leans in for a lingering kiss on your cheek.

You blush. “Hi yourself.” Maybe Max was wrong about this guy.

You have a great time with Levi. The drinks are strong and the conversation is easy. After a few hours, Levi asks if you want to get out of there.

“I’d love to see your apartment,” you say with a flirtatious glance.

Levi grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He pays the tab and you start walking to his place. As you turn a corner, you run straight into someone, nearly falling over.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorr-Max? What are you doing here?”

Max steadies you with his hands. “Y/N! Fancy running into you!”

You stare at Max in disbelief. “Did you follow me?”

Max avoids your gaze. “What? No, of course not. I was just in the neighborhood.”

You cross your arms. “I find that hard to believe.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Levi pipes up from behind you. “Uh, do you two know each other?”

“Unfortunately yes,” you reply tightly, not taking your eyes off Max.

Max finally meets your stare, his jaw clenched. “I was worried about you, okay? This guy looks like bad news.”

You scowl at him. “That’s not your call to make. I’m allowed to go on dates without you ruining them.”

Max’s shoulders slump. “I know, I’m sorry. I just care about you and want you to be safe.” He glances at Levi again uncertainly.

You soften a bit, seeing the genuine concern in Max’s eyes. You put a hand on his arm. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’ll be okay. See you at home later.”

You turn to Levi, who looks understandably confused. You loop your arm through his. “Shall we keep going?”

But as you walk away, the playful mood from earlier is gone. Levi tries to make conversation, but you’re preoccupied thinking about Max and the sad look on his face.

Levi invites you up to his apartment still, but your heart’s not in it anymore. You make an excuse and head home, feelings conflicted.

Max is on the couch when you storm in. “Hey! How was the date?”

You don’t answer, just grab a pillow and start smacking him with it.

“Ow!” Max holds up his hands, laughing. “What was that for?”

“You know exactly what it was for, you sneaky jerk! Sabotaging my date again.”

Max grins up at you impishly. “Maybe I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

You keep hitting him with the pillow, but end up collapsing on the couch next to him, both of you breathless with laughter.

“You’re the worst,” you say between giggles.

Max drapes his arm around your shoulders. “Yeah but admit it, you love me anyway.”

You sigh and nestle against him. “Unfortunately yes, I do.”

And you know that no matter how many dates Max sabotages, he’ll always be your number one.

***

After the last two disastrous dates, you decide to take a break from dating for a while. But your coworker Jess convinces you to give it one more shot with a guy named Liam she met at her gym. Reluctantly, you agree to meet up with him.

The day of the date arrives and you get ready halfheartedly, already anticipating Max’s attempts to sabotage it. Speaking of Max, you realize you haven’t seen him all day, which is odd.

You find a note on the kitchen counter:

Had to fly to Milton Keynes last minute for work. Will be gone all weekend. Have fun on your date.

<3 Max

You’re surprised but also a bit disappointed. While his meddling is annoying, you’re so used to Max being a constant presence in your dating life. It will feel weird doing this without him.

You push that thought aside as you head out to meet Liam at a burger place. When you arrive, you’re pleasantly surprised. Liam is handsome, charming, and easy to talk to.

After lunch, you go on a walk through a nearby park. You’re having such a nice time, you don’t even think about Max. At the end of the date, Liam asks to see you again.

“I’d love to,” you say with a smile. Liam leans in for a sweet goodbye kiss.

As you turn to go, you hear a familiar voice yelling your name. “Y/N! There you are!”

You whirl around to see Max jogging towards you, slightly out of breath.

“Max? What are you doing here? I thought you had that work thing.”

Max shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh, it got canceled last minute.”

Liam looks between you two, confused. “Wait, is this the dude you live with?”

Before you can respond, Max strides up and vigorously shakes Liam’s hand. “Max Verstappen, nice to meet you! I’m Y/N’s … boyfriend.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “My WHAT?”

“Yeah babe, your boyfriend,” Max says, draping an arm around you. “Sorry I couldn’t make our date today, got held up at work. But who’s this guy you’re with?”

Liam stares wide-eyed at Max’s arm around you. “Uh, I should get going. See you around, Y/N.” He scurries off.

You shove Max away from you, fuming. “What the hell was that? Why did you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Max shoves his hands in his pockets sheepishly. “I just couldn’t stand the idea of you dating that dude.”

“So you LIED? You scared him off forever!” You poke Max’s chest angrily.

He grabs your hand. “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I was jealous and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You search his face and see real remorse in his eyes. Your anger starts to fade.

“Jealous? Why would you be jealous, Max?” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

He takes a shaky breath. “Because the truth is, I’m in love with you. As more than a friend. I have been for a long time. Seeing you with those other guys made me realize I couldn’t stand not being with you myself.”

You stand frozen, stunned into silence. Max rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Please say something.”

You finally find your voice again. “Took you long enough, idiot.”

And you grab his shirt and kiss him deeply. Max grins against your lips, wrapping you in his arms.

“No more sabotaging my dates,” you murmur.

“Deal,” Max whispers. “As long as I can be your one and only from now on.”

You answer by kissing him again under the setting sun. At long last, you finally have your dream guy.

***

The next morning, you wake up in Max’s arms, still unable to believe the incredible turn your relationship has taken. Last night after the park, you came home and talked for hours, admitting your true feelings while cuddled up on the couch. You kissed and kissed until you both finally fell asleep tangled together.

Now in the light of day, your worries start to creep in. What if this ruins your friendship? What if you’re not meant to be more than best friends?

You untangle yourself from Max’s embrace and go to make coffee. He finds you a few minutes later on the balcony overlooking the sea.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Max says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kisses your shoulder.

You turn in his arms to face him. “Can we talk about this?”

He frowns slightly. “Talk about what?”

You gesture between the two of you. “This new aspect of our relationship. I’m just worried it will mess things up. Maybe we should take a step back and think things through?”

Max’s face falls. “You’re having second thoughts?”

“No, not second thoughts exactly. I care about you so much Max, as my best friend. I don’t want to ruin that.”

Max caresses your cheek. “You could never ruin our friendship. It means everything to me too. But we both deserve to be happy, and I know we can make each other happy in this new way as well. I’m willing to take that chance if you are.”

You search his earnest eyes. He’s right — your connection runs so much deeper than just friendship. And you trust Max. If anyone is worth taking this risk for, it’s him.

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers. “You’re right. I want to make this work.”

Relief washes over Max’s face. He leans in and kisses you softly. “I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll be the best boyfriend ever!”

You laugh. “Well in that case, take me on our first official date tonight!”

“It would be my pleasure.” Max strokes your hair. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. On us. I know we’re meant to be, schatje. I’ve loved you all my life.”

“I’ve loved you all my life too,” you whisper. And you know that no matter what happens, your bond with Max will never break.

The future has yet to be written, but you’re ready to face it hand-in-hand with the man who has always had your heart.

2K notes · View notes

darnell-la · 5 days

Note

can we get some nsfw of logan heavily infantilizing reader? i know he's a mean mean man and i want him to make us cry 🥺 just wanna be doted on but also fucked like a beast

note: Logan is a very nasty individual in this story. He’s degrading, calls the reader out of her name many times, fucks rough, is manipulative, possessive, and more…

having Logan Howlett claim you are one of the best-given things that could happen.

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“You’re so fuckin’ childish, y/n, do you know that!? So fuckin’ childish!” Logan shouted at the girl as he placed her into his passenger seat. The man slammed the door in her face before walking around to the car.

Y/m scoffed as she crossed her arms, knowing she was wrong for what she’d done tonight, but at least she had fun.

Logan treats y/n like she has no idea what the world is like. Wade speaks to him, telling him he should take it easy because is his friend. Not Logan’s.

“Well, if I’m gonna stay in an apartment with two kids, I expect them to have manners and respect. If not, then I’m out of here,” Logan threatened a few months ago when he first got here.

Y/n had come home drunk out of her mind at three in the morning after Logan and Wade had been worried all night.

Her phone had died. She explained that to them, and Wade understood, but when she came through that door smiling, laughing, and giggling with the friend who dropped her off, it triggered Logan.

“I know pay the bills, and the apartment is his, but I’ll kick you the fuck out, kid,” Logan threatened as he got into the car and started it up, ready to get home and rest without stressing about y/n.

“I’m a grown woman, Logan. If I wanna go out and get drunk with my friends, I can!” Y/n turned towards the man just to yell before turning back towards the door, looking out of the window.

“What kinda fun is that, y/n? You’re a college student, you’ve got classes in the afternoon, you need to study, but instead, you’re out almost every weekend, pissy drunk and begging for a man to touch you,”

“What!? I don’t even go out with men! I reject them all,” y/n said, confused about why he even cared about her getting with anyone.

“Sure you don’t. Every time I pick you up or you walk through that door, you’re dressed sluttier. Every fucking time!” Logan yelled, hands groping the wheel as he drove through the city to head home.

“At this point, you’re just stressing yourself out. Let me live my life like I let you, okay? Fuck!” Y/n complained.

“So slutting around is living life now? God, you kids are fucking dumb,” Logan shook his head. “I don’t slut around!” Y/n basically screamed at the man.

“Lower your fucking tone when you talk to me, young lady!” Logan looked her way. The anger in his voice made her back up, trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard.

“Always fuckin’ yellin'. Can you ever shut the fuck up for once? Just do better in life and shut the fuck up — Grow up! Because you’re a-fucking-nnoying,” the man got out.

Y/n looked out of the window in silence, holding back her tears as the man continued.

“Be a fuckin’ lady, and respect yourself for once. For once!” He hit the wheel, making the girl jump. “Respect me!” The man hit the wheel again, but harder.

Y/n wiped a tear from her cheek quickly so he wouldn’t notice, but he did. Once he did, the man laughed to himself. “Unbelievable,” the man shook his head, disappointed in her.

“You can yell at me, but when I start yellin’ and tellin’ you what you look like, you start carrying. Fucking pathetic. Seriously!”

Logan didn’t mean to hurt the girl's feelings. He was just angry. He hated seeing her out and doing things he didn’t want her to do. Why can’t she just listen to him? Why does she need other people to make her happy when she has Wade and him at home.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Y/n wouldn’t sniff here and there, but low so she wouldn’t start Logan up again. She was embarrassed and disappointed in herself.

Right as Logan parked the car, y/n pulled on the handle to get out, but he had locked the door before she could.

“Looks y/n-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off. “Let me out,” y/n said with a stern voice. “Y/n, just hear me out-“ he tried to say again. “Let me out!” She yelled, not even looking at the man.

“Hey!” Logan reached for her arm and grabbed it tightly. Y/n tried yanking herself away, but he was stronger. “Let me go!” Y/n yelled, only angering the man further. He had become obvious to the strength he had.

“Ow, Logan!” Y/n shouted at the man, but all he did was grip harder. “Stay still, y/n!” Logan demanded. “You're hurting me!” She finally said as tears streamed from her eyes.

The way she looked at the man in pain, not just from his grip, but more so from his words. Looking into his eyes, he realized he had gone too far.

“Y/n,” Logan said low as she fought the man, slapping his hand, but he wouldn’t let go. He only loosened his grip. “Let me go!” She could barely yell, only cry.

Logan shifted his body and lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. When he did, she tried shaking her head to get him off, but it wouldn’t leave.

“Please!” She cried, but Logan didn’t let her leave. All he did was let her arm go, only to push her seat back and hover over her quickly, the other hand still on her cheek.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Logan said, but she couldn’t stop. She sobbed as she weakly slapped Logan’s body, telling him to leave her alone, but that was the last thing he was going to do.

“Baby, look at him — It’s okay, just look at me,” Logan said as he placed the other hand on her other cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, okay? I’m sorry,” Logan spoke. That was when y/n cried harder with no words. “Aw, baby,” Logan said, trying to wipe her tears away, but they kept rolling.

“All I wanted was for you to be safe, baby. That it. It’s dangerous out here. You can’t just be goin’ out every night, looking the way you do. You just can’t,” Logan said.

“If you wanna drink, we got it at the house. You know that. No more goin’ out, and you won’t look like this anymore,” he said, hoping to manipulate her into staying in the house, and in his sight.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Logan said and kept repeating until she ducked in her cries. It took her a while, but she managed.

“Please understand that I want you safe, y/n. Do you understand that?” Logan asked. Y/n slowly nodded her head with a sniff, making him smile slightly.

“That’s it, baby. All I want is for my baby to be safe — No more goin’ out after tonight. Maybe with me, but I have to be by your side. It’s too dangerous,” he said.

“B-But my friends,” y/n sniffed. “They’ll be fine, baby. They love you and will understand. You want me to trust you and not be stressed out, right? You want me to be? I’m gettin’ old, and ion needa be stressin’ about my girl,” Logan said.

Y/n nodded her head, halfway understanding what he wanted, but not fully. She didn’t ask though. She just knew by the way he always acted that he wanted her in sight and safe with no funny business.

“Good, baby, good,” Logan said, looking into the girl's eyes as she looked back up at him, eyes bloody and eyelashes batting.

“You’re too pretty to be seen without me, baby, and you know that, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?” Logan asked, making her nod again.

“That's right, and you're sorry for disobeying me, right?” He asked. The way he spoke to her, made her feel like she’s actually done something wrong.

“S-Sorry,” she said low. A groan slipped past the man’s lips at her words and voice. She was too sweet to believe she was real.

“Ah huh, and are you gonna show me just how sorry you are?” He asked. Y/n surprisingly nodded quickly, wanting him to know that she meant nothing personal by the way she lived.

“Good girl — Now turn around for me,” Logan said. Her mind wasn’t honking straight, but she did as told, apologizing for her body rubbing on his as she did so. “It’s okay, baby - You’re all good,”

“I’m just a little angry, and you understand that, right? It’s acceptable to why I am, right, baby?” He asked her, making her him with a nod.

“Ah huh, and you’re gonna help me relax, right, baby?” He asked and she repeated what she had done before, but more shaky. “That right,”

Logan began unbuckling his belt, watching the girl underneath him shiver from how drunk she was, the cold air coming through the cracked window, her crying session, and the confusion of this situation.

“Never listenin’ to me, baby. I don’t like that,” Logan said before giving y/n a hard slap on her ass that was covered in her tight thin dress. A whine had slipped from her mouth, only making the man groan.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna bring all this anger right out on and into you, baby,” Logan said as he pulled himself out. “And guess what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna lay here, and take it like the disrespectful little slut you are,”

Y/n whined at his words, feeling shitty for not being respectful towards the older man, but she’ll soon understand to listen.

“Every time I pick you up or watch you walk through those doors, you’re fuckin’ soaked. I just know you’re out and about, waiting for some random man to offer his cock,”

“I know you’re whore enough to take it too, now ain’t you?” Logan asked. “N-No,” y/n shook her head with a whine as he pulled her dress up, revealing her dark wet patch.

“Sure you’re not, baby. You know the drunk sluts always say that, right? Until they’re caught being stuffed and fucked in some bar bathroom,”

Y/n whined again at his comment about what he thought of her as his fingers hooked around her pants. The man pulled his fingers back, causing the panties to rip perfectly.

“You wanna be treated like some dirty slut at the bar?” Logan asked as he put his cock in his hand. “No,” y/n truly spoke, but he didn’t believe her.

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and then pushed her head into the seat. “Are you sure, baby? Because you’re gonna spreading in my passenger seat just like them club whores,”

Before y/n could say anything, the man laughed into her, forcing his huge length through her walls, knowing she would barely be able to take him.

“Logan!” Y/n cried out loud, voice crazy as she gripped and clawed at the seats. “Nah uh, you shut the fuck up!” Logan spat through his teeth as he leaned over and into the girl's ear.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, I know you want this. You always do. Comin’ back from the fuckin’ bar all soaked and full of attitude. I just know you rub that shit in my face,”

“I fuckin’ know you come through those doors wanting me to fuck your drunk ass through my mattress,” the man snapped his hips hard.

“Oh yeah? Can't take it?” Logan asked as the young girl cried in pain and pleasure. “S-Sorry, sorry,” she quickly whined as she back arched.

“No, you’re fucking not. You’re only sayin’ it now because I’m fucking this cunt dumb,” Logan growled in the girl's ear as he tugged on her hair.

“Slutty fuckin’ cunt - Grippin’ me like she ain’t been fucked in the club already,” Logan said, making the girl shake her head.

“N-No,” she managed to say. “Oh yeah? You’re tellin’ me no man has been in this cunt at the club? Fuckin’ you silly in the bathroom as you pass out from the liquor?” Logan asked.

He had already known the answer, but he was angry. He wanted to get everything out. If he could smell how wet she was every weekend, he could smell a man on her, and thankfully for her, he never has.

“N-No,” y/n whined as she came around him without warning. He hadn’t cared that she soaked his leather seats. All he cared about was how could he could fuck he’d. Maybe if he fucked he’d be good enough, she wouldn’t dare leave the apartment again.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You don’t let another man touch you. Never!” He pounded, knowing the wind out of her with every thrust.

“I swear, if you do, baby, ima kill him. Ima fuckin’ kill him then lock your ass in my room,” Logan threatened, only making y/n moan.

“My fuckin’ cunt — Mine! All fuckin’ mine and you know it. You’ve been known it, Bub, and because you wanted to play games, I’m gonna teach you what the fuck happens when you do,”

Logan took the seatbelt to the car and tied it around her wrist after pulling them man. The man soon continued his anger by slamming into her until she cried, begging him to stop.

He was rough, but y/n knew deep down that she deserved it. She was disrespectful and didn’t listen to him. He should get what he wants.

“You're mine, right, baby? All mine to use like those I want at the bar and club?” Logan asked as y/n could barely keep herself conscious. “Y-Yes,” was all she could get out.

“That’s my girl,”

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fxllfaiiry · 1 year

Text

─ callin' it quits now, baby, I'm a wreck ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: the aftermath of the argument with miguel.

✶ warnings: angst, hurt with comfort, occ miguel (for one scene only dw), shitty humour, one or two swear words, reader being slightly mean, mentions of death.

✶ notes: part two of "you're the sunflower" this part was originally 8k words long and i was like nope, so i had to cut it down, I'm sorry. I really hope this isn't bad ‼️

At first, you didn't quit the team.

After the blow-up with Miguel, you thought about leaving the team for good, but yet you decided to show up, hanging around for a bit before quickly leaving.

But slowly you stopped showing up altogether. The looks of pity were too much for you to handle, and frankly, you deserve an apology, you deserved better.

Every day was torture, and seeing Miguel only made it worse. No one thought this whole ordeal would go this far.

Everyone noticed the changes, you were more serious, and your usual sunshine self was gone at this point. Everyone noticed the day you stopped coming in.

You felt so lonely, sure, you had friends in your universe but yet, nothing felt the same. You sometimes wondered if they missed you or not.

It had only been a few weeks and yet it felt like months.

A part of you secretly hoped someone from the team would show up at your doorstep pleading for you to come back, but nothing.

"You'll get used to it eventually" You'd tell yourself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had been two whole months since you left. Nothing felt the same without you.

"Does anyone else miss Sunflower?" Gwen said sadly. She missed your hugs, and your little girl talks with her, she missed everything about you.

"We all miss her, kid," Peter sighed. Without you, he had no one to talk to about Mayday.

"I hope she comes back soon," Miles said.

"I think she just wants space right now," Pavitr replied.

"This is all Miguel's fault y'know?" Hobie added bitterly, how dare Miguel take his friend away from him.

"Someone should talk to him, maybe if he apologizes, she'll come back." Miles was hopeful, he knew you'd come back eventually.

"Sure, kid. As if Miguel ever listens."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Miguel on the other hand was depressed.

He'd gotten used to your presence and it felt odd without you.

He felt horrible about yelling at you but he was scared. The thought of you dying terrified him, and his way of dealing with that wasn't the best.

He thought about apologizing many times, but he didn't know how to. The last thing he wanted was to cause more damage.

"You know a simple "sorry" could fix this all right?" Lyla said, breaking him out of his trance.

"It's not that easy, Lyla." He sounded so broken to his own ears.

"Well, you gotta try, Boss."

"Sunflower used to call me that."

"You're joking, right? Wow, you really are pathetic." Lyla snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dude, you're in love with her. You are absolutely smitten."

"Lyla, that's enough-"

"No, you love her and that's why it's bothering you so much."

"I don't-"

"Nah, Lyla's right, you do love her." He turned around to see Jess standing in his office.

"Jess, not you too, and where did you come from?" Miguel groaned, he did not love you.

"The door…? Anyways, just try to fix things, the first step is you apologizing." Jess stated matter-of-factly.

Miguel thought about it for a minute, these last few weeks had been pure torture for him, Jess was right, the first step is apologizing.

"Fine, I'll do it first thing tomorrow, but I don't love her."

"Sure, whatever you say, man." Jess snickered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You got somewhat used to your new life. It was the same old plain routine every day. You tried to throw yourself into other things. Finding new hobbies, jobs, literally anything.

But eventually, it all started to feel okay.

Things were finally starting to look good for you.

You thought about the spider society way less and finally started living your life to the fullest.

You were moving on.

Crime fighting was easy today. You got to hang out with your friends and an old lady gave you a cheerio, which is something.

You swung around the city for a bit, enjoying the view and temporary peace.

Soon it was time for you to head back home. You climbed in through your bedroom window and quickly changed out of your suit, slipping into more comfortable clothing.

When you went downstairs to get some food, you weren't expecting to see Miguel O'Hara sitting on your couch.

"Holy shit, what are you doing here?" You scared him, because he jumped violently at the sound of your voice.

"I was here t-"

"Humiliate me further? Because I thought we were done with that." You felt bad saying that, but he deserved it.

"No, I'm here to apologize." He looked down, ashamed.

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" You chuckled bitterly, walking past him into the kitchen.

"Just listen to me for a second."

"I thought I was incapable of doing that." You muttered to yourself.

He got up and strode towards you, but he received no acknowledgment of his presence.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of everyone; it was wrong and I shouldn't have acted so immaturely."

"Uh-huh, it's fine. You can leave now, the door's right there." You weren't buying his ridiculous apology. Even a five-year-old could do better.

"I understand you're mad, but please give me a chance." That was pretty much the last straw for you.

"I'm mad? You humiliated me in front of everyone! You made me feel like shit, you made me think I don't belong on the team! You're an asshole." You were screaming at him, taking out all the anger and sadness you felt in the past two months.

"I'm sorry." He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and for the second time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

"The best you can say is I'm sorry? At least give me a proper explanation." You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I'm in love with you." What?

"Right, if you're here to joke around and mock me just leave okay." You open up to him and he mocks you in return. Amazing.

"I'm being serious. I'm not mocking you or joking around, I'm in love with you. You want an explanation, so I'm giving you one." He breathed, looking at you hoping to receive some reaction. All he got was a small head tilt which he took as a sign to continue.

"The reason I yelled at you was because I was scared. I thought you were going to die and that terrified me, I've lost everything, and I don't want to lose you too. I didn't know how to handle it, so I lashed out. I truly am sorry, Sunflower." You froze trying to process everything, was he telling the truth?

"Lyla and Jess helped me realize my true feelings for you." He whispered.

When you said nothing for a few minutes he started to get scared, he was ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

"Can you… say something? Please?"

"I can't forgive you just yet." He would never admit to what happened next but he started sobbing. All this was too much, being vulnerable was an unknown feeling to him.

"Woah, wait hey, don't cry. Let me-" Before you could finish your sentence he fell to his knees, arms clutching your waist like a lifeline.

You were beyond confused, you thought this whole interaction was some sort of weird dream. Miguel O'Hara down on his knees, for you? Wow, two months ago you would've scoffed and rolled your eyes at that.

Nonetheless, you ran your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him.

"Miguel, honey, listen to me. Just because I'm not ready to forgive you now, doesn't mean I never will." His face was still squished against your midriff, and his breathing was slowly returning to normal, with a few sniffs here and there.

"So, you'll come back?" Seeing him in such a state broke your heart, you were still upset with him but were willing to give him a chance.

"Yes, I'll come back tomorrow." At that, he smiled properly for the first time in weeks.

He stayed there for a few moments, letting you comb through his hair gently, he would cherish this brief moment forever.

"I should get going then. The multiverse needs saving." He said hoarsely, standing up, he was slightly embarrassed by this side of him.

"Maybe use the door this time." He lightly chuckled at your statement, the warm feeling took over him once again.

Miguel did not want to leave, he wanted to stay here with you, but he knew that wasn't an option right now.

Before he left he had to get one last thing off his chest.

"Could you, not tel-"

"Tell anyone about this? Don't worry, this stays between us only."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Everyone was surprised to see you back the next day.

The second you walked in, everyone was all over you, hugging you and filling you in on everything you missed. It felt good to be back.

"I'm so happy you're back," Gwen whispered, hugging you tightly.

"I'm happy to be back, Gwendy. I missed you guys so much."

"Hey quit hogging Sunflower, it's my turn to hug her now." Miles huffed impatiently.

"Me next!" Pavitr bounced enthusiastically.

"Hey, not cool. I called dibs, man." Hobie groaned.

"Hey, Sunflower, I have some new pictures of Mayday to show you." Everyone was so excited to see you again, it was chaotic, but it felt like home. They were your family.

Miguel watched the scene from afar with a smile, he was glad everything was okay now.

"So you fixed things up with her, huh?" Jess said, popping up behind him, once again taking him by surprise.

"¡Ay, coño! Jess, stop doing that."

"Sorry, not my fault you don't have a spidy sense." Jess hummed. "So, how did you get her to forgive you?"

"I have my ways."

"You got down on your knees and begged her, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" Miguel whisper-yelled. That was supposed to be a secret.

"I have my ways." Jess winked.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

In a few weeks, everything was back to normal, you were back to your old self again.

Except for the fact that you and Miguel were now closer than ever. That was new.

You were always by his side, sticking close to him and he felt comfortable around you, always relaxed in your presence.

He wasn't sure if you forgave him just yet, but he was willing to wait for as long as you needed.

He did small things to show you he cared, sometimes it was bringing you coffee, other times it was giving you your favorite flowers.

You knew he was sorry, and in your heart, you forgave him a long time back.

So, you finally decided to tell him.

You guys were in his office having lunch, he didn't like to eat out in the cafeteria. You both would usually sit in silence enjoying each other's company.

"Hey, Miguel."

"Hm?"

"I forgive you."

He raised his eyebrows in confusion taking a moment to realise what you meant. When he finally got it, his eyes widened almost comically.

"Oh, you do?" He was trying to hide his smile but failed horribly.

"I forgave you a long time back, but I just… needed some time." You nodded.

"I understand that. Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Actually, to forgive you fully, I want one thing from you." You declared, confidently.

"I'll do anything, Sunflower." He'd indeed do anything for you.

"I want you to go out on a date with me."

His brain stopped working. You were asking him out on a date.

"Miguel? Is that a yes or no?" You grew nervous at his lack of response. Did you cross boundaries? You thought he liked you.

"I would love to." You quickly beamed at his response, after months of waiting it was finally happening.

"So, how about tomorrow, at 7?" You giggled.

"Sounds perfect." He sighed, softly smiling.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst

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