#not trusting this. needing to keep an eye on it.

[flickering-chandelier]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader meet one day and the connection is instantaneous. Azriel becomes worried though, when Reader starts showing up late to their dates more consistently. When the truth comes out, they need to figure out how to keep moving forward.

Based on this request! Thank you for sending it in, I hope you like it! 🩷

Word Count: 3.8k

The market was bustling today and Azriel cringed slightly, pulling his wings in even tighter behind him. He had no idea why Amren had insisted that he be the one to pick up the items she needed for her new project. Perhaps because she knew that he would be the least likely to complain. 

He was approaching the stall that carried what Amren needed when his gaze snagged on someone at a neighboring one and he stopped dead in his tracks, causing the people around him to curse and move around him, irritated.

Azriel barely heard it though, his attention fully on you. You had a simple dress on, but it accentuated your curves beautifully, your hair was loose, falling down your back in ringlets. The way you moved was graceful as you picked up an item to inspect. 

But your smile as you talked to the owner of the stall, the way it lit up your face with such kindness… that is what made Azriel’s knees feel like they were about to give out.

He longed to approach you, but by the time that he had come to his senses enough to start moving, you too had moved, working your way through the market. It was so crowded that he lost track of you. 

Crestfallen, he went back to the stall and got the supplies for Amren. 

---

Days later, Azriel still could not get you out of his mind. That damn smile haunted his dreams and his every waking moment. 

So much so, that at the earliest opportunity, he went back to the market, his eyes raking the crowd for any sign of you. He seriously contemplated flying up to a rooftop for a better angle, but that would probably be frowned upon. 

He perused the market, feeling a bit foolish. The Night Court’s spymaster, reduced to wandering around the market on his day off like a lost puppy in hopes of finding a woman he didn’t even know.

His spirits lifted dramatically though, when he saw you. You were perusing a stall, inspecting a jar with a shiny liquid inside. 

Azriel didn’t let himself hesitate this time, dodging people milling about as he strode for you. Eventually, he appeared at your side, and you looked up at him, so surprised to suddenly see a large, looming male next to you, that you dropped the jar that you were holding.

Smoothly, he caught it before it hit the ground and offered it to you. Your eyes sparked with recognition as you studied him: the wings, the Illyrian clothing, the shadows twirling around his biceps. 

Your fingers brushed his as you took the jar back from him and you murmured, “Thank you.”

He nodded, offering you a faint smile, not sure what to say. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“You’re the High Lord’s shadowsinger,” you said, looking up at him, sounding a little breathless.

“I am. But most people just call me Azriel,” he said, a note of humor edging his voice.

That smile you had offered the others before was now turned on him, and he felt as if the ground was swaying underneath him. You offered him your name, before saying, “I feel a bit like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Azriel could feel slight heat in his cheeks, and tried to maintain the neutral expression he nearly always wore. He waved his hand dismissively, “Trust me, I’m not. Cassian is more of the celebrity. I mostly blend into the shadows.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, studying the hard line of his jaw, his hazel eyes, the curve of his mouth. “That’s a shame,” you said, a little wistfully.

Azriel’s heart was thundering now. “Do you want to get dinner?” 

Your smile widened. “I think I can make that happen. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed. 

You picked the restaurant and the time, and just like that, Azriel had a date.

---

The date was, in his opinion, nothing short of amazing. 

He had arrived a bit early to dinner, and you waltzed up to the restaurant exactly on time, looking like a vision. Part of your hair was braided around your head like a crown, but part was still flowing down over your shoulders, curled. Your dress hugged the curve of your waist, the hem landing midway down your shin, perfect for the summer. 

You beamed as you approached him, and Azriel had to concentrate to keep his breathing steady. The two of you were seated outside, watching the sun set over the river. 

The conversation was easy. You kept it light and playful, grazing your hand against his bicep every once in a while when you laughed, the sound bright and beautiful.

Flirting, he realized. You were flirting with him. Laughing with him. Making him laugh.

Mother, when was the last time he had felt like this?

Had he ever felt like this?

After dinner ended, you stood up and gently took his hand in yours, tugging lightly so he stood up too, towering over you. “Do you want to take a walk?” you asked, your eyes sparkling under the stars that were out by then. 

“Lead the way,” he said, one side of his mouth turning up into a smile.

You led him to the artists’ quarter, the lights vibrant against the night. He watched as your eyes lit up at the site, marveling at all the artwork, the people milling about. 

“Oh, look!” you exclaimed, excitedly pulling him to a painting of the mountains surrounding Velaris. “It’s beautiful,” you told the painter, who nodded in thanks, smiling.

Azriel couldn’t help but stare as you took in the painting, your eyes alight. 

“Are you a painter?” he asked.

“I try to be,” you grinned at him. “I’m not very good.”

Before he could respond, another painting caught your eye and you gasped, tugging on his hand, leading him through the crowd. Azriel laughed, and you turned back to smile at him, your whole face lighting up. His heart swelled.

On and on you went, his lifeboat pulling him through the sea of artists. He could have gone on like that forever, he thought. 

You were about to pull him to another painting when you suddenly turned to him, flushed. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’ve gotten carried away, haven’t I?”

Azriel shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.”

You smiled, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It’s late,” you said. “I should probably head back.” 

“Can I walk you home?”

Your smile grew and you nodded your head for him to follow. Your arms brushed as you walked, taking in the night air. 

It was a short walk to your house, and you stopped before the door and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Azriel. Tonight was… amazing.”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile back at you. “It was.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek lightly before turning to the door, and Azriel said your name, stopping you before you could open it. “Can I see you again?”

You beamed. “Meet me by the Rainbow in two days?”

Smirking, Azriel said, “Absolutely.”

---

Azriel could hardly focus on anything else while he waited to see you again. His friends absolutely knew something was up with him, but did not pester him about it. Yet. 

Two days after the initial date, Azriel was waiting in the Rainbow, where you had told him you wanted to meet. 

He waited. And waited.

Trying to stomp down his growing anxiety that you wouldn’t show, he gazed at the art around him. You had been right on time to your first date. Had you changed your mind about him?

He was about to walk through the artists’ quarter, wondering if he had not remembered correctly where you wanted to meet, when you finally arrived, your cheeks flushed, but you looked beautiful as ever. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a little breathless. “Something came up -- it’s hard to explain. I swear I tried to be on time.” 

Azriel was just glad that you had come. “It’s alright,” he smiled reassuringly. 

Your eyes twinkled under the stars, relieved. “Thank you.”

His smile widened and he lightly squeezed your upper arm, trying to soothe you. 

You smiled slowly and arched an eyebrow, mischief written all over your face. “So, I had an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Laughing, you said, “Let’s go dancing.”

Azriel’s smile dropped. You laughed even more. “Dancing,” he repeated. 

“Dancing,” you grinned.

“I can’t dance.” 

“Oh, please. Everyone can dance.” 

“Not me,” Azriel said, smiling despite himself.

“Please,” she murmured, taking a step closer to him and looking up at him from under her lashes. “For me?”

Azriel sighed, raking a hand through his hair. You knew you already had him wrapped around his little finger. “Fine.”

You squealed with delight, taking his hand in yours and walking in the direction of the Velaris night clubs. Azriel tried to focus on the positives: your soft hand in his, how happy you were, how your hair bounced as you walked.

By the time you got to the nightclub, Azriel’s felt like his heart was in his throat. He really did not dance.

But you strode right in, glancing back at him with the biggest smile on your face. You led him right into the middle of the crowd of people pulsing with the music. 

He stood still and watched as you moved your hips, your arms up above your head, twirling around like you didn’t have a care in the world. I could easily fall in love with this woman, he thought. Easily.

You turned back to him and laughed brightly, placing your hands on his hips, trying to make them move. He didn’t budge, which made you laugh even more. “Come on, shadowsinger. Live a little!”

He wanted to, if only to make you happy, but he couldn’t focus on anything but your hands on him and that smile that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Studying him for a moment, you said over the music, “Okay, I see we need to try a different tactic,” you said, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the edge of the dance floor, where it was less crowded. 

You stepped right up to him then, so your bodies were barely an inch away. You took both of his hands and settled them on your hips, then placed your hands on his shoulders. 

“Don’t think so much, just move,” you said, your voice light and teasing. 

He towered over you, watching as you moved your hips, lightly pushing and pulling on his shoulders so he would move with you. It took nearly a full song, but eventually his body relaxed, letting himself be guided by you.

“There you go,” you grinned. 

Suddenly, the song slowed significantly, and you looked up at him, becoming slightly shy again. 

He gazed down at you, smiling faintly as he pulled you in closer to him, keeping one hand at your waist and taking one of your hands in his. 

Azriel swore he saw your breath catch as you studied his face, eyes slightly wide. Azriel tightened his grip on you slightly when your eyes dipped to his mouth and lingered there. 

Holding his breath, he leaned in slowly, stopping a breath away from your lips, giving you a moment to back up if you wanted to. But, you surged forward, connecting your mouth with his. 

He smiled into the kiss, bringing a scarred hand up to gently cup your cheek. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, and as the music swelled to a crescendo, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You gasped into his mouth, bending your knees as he held you in the air. 

Gently, he set you down a few moments later, and when he pulled back, you were smiling, your cheeks dusted red. 

“That might have been the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, your tone teasing, but your eyes alight. 

“Me too,” Azriel murmured, unable to tear his gaze away from your beautiful face. 

The two of you spent hours together, and Azriel found himself unable to keep his hands off you. You seemed the same way, always placing a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, while he rested his hand on your hips, the small of your back, or held your hand in his. 

For hours, he watched you dance, and willed his body to move with you, only because your eyes shined, your smile bright, when he did so.

At the end of the night, he walked you home once again, this time pulling you in by the waist and kissing you until you were breathless, twining his hand into your soft hair, your hands on his face.

---

Weeks passed, and the two of you kept meeting as often as your schedules would allow. 

Azriel would have been on cloud nine… except that he was starting to have his doubts. When the two of you were together, it was amazing, a connection and energy that he had never felt with anybody before. In the privacy of his own mind, he was even willing to concede that he had absolutely fallen for you.

But he couldn’t pretend that everything was perfect. You had been late to nearly every date. He would always be unnerved waiting for you, thinking that this would be the time that you would leave him hanging, never to be heard from again. But then, you would come, always breathless, like you had rushed to get there, and would apologize profusely, but never giving an explanation. Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if you were not as interested in him as he was in you.

He considered talking to Cassian or Rhys about it, but had a suspicion that they would not be very helpful.

So eventually, he decided just to talk to you about it. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to keep seeing him if you didn’t want to.

There was clearly movement in your house as he approached. He took a deep breath before knocking.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, but not unhappy, when you opened the door. “Azriel,” you smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, quietly. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but before anything could come out, a little boy, a toddler came running to the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Azriel hulking in the doorway. 

The boy gaped at Azriel, his mouth hanging open in shock, before turning to you, “Mom! That’s the shadowsinger!” he squealed, running up to said shadowsinger and wrapping his tiny arms around Azriel’s legs, his head not even meeting Azriel’s knees. The boy looked up at Azriel in awe, “you are so cool.”

Azriel’s head spun, trying to process the information in front of him, but he couldn’t focus over the feeling of his heart absolutely melting as he gazed at this boy, full of such joy. He patted the boy’s back, smiling. “You think so?”

He nodded vigorously, his curly hair that matched his mother’s flicking over his eyes. “I wish I could be a spy.”

Azriel grinned. “I can teach you, if your mom says it’s okay.”

The boy gasped, and Azriel looked at you for the first time since your son had made himself known. You looked like you were about to cry, your hands clasped in front of you. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“Honey, why don’t you go play for a little bit?” you said, your voice slightly shaky, steering your son into the other room. “Mom has to talk to Mr. Shadowsinger about grownup stuff for a little bit.”

He pouted a bit, but did as he was told, reluctantly untangling himself from Azriel and toddling into the next room.

You sighed when you were alone with Azriel, searching his face.

“This is why you’ve been late,” Azriel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel took your hand in his, trying to ground himself. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Your eyes filled with tears, and Azriel’s heart cracked. “Most males aren’t interested in raising someone else’s kid. And I liked you… I was too scared to lose you.”

There was no breath in Azriel’s lungs. He ached for you, for what you had no doubt been through with other males who you tried to date. He wanted to rip them to shreds. Slowly, he leaned down, gently kissing each tear away. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not unless you want me to.” 

You sniffed, looking up at him through damp lashes. “I don’t want you to.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You stayed like that for a while, holding each other, before he asked, “What’s his name?”

“Jax.”

“Do you think Jax has it in him to be a spymaster?”

You laughed against his chest, and Azriel smiled into your hair. “I think he can be whatever he wants to be.”

He pulled back to look at you, tilting his face down to meet your eye. “Do you want me in his life? If it’s too soon, that’s okay. But I would love to get to know him, eventually.”

That beautiful smile shone on your face as you said, “I would love that.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Azriel taught Jax how to be a spy. They ran around the house, ducking behind furniture, following invisible enemies. 

Azriel glanced at you periodically, reveling in the bright smile on your face, your eyes shining. 

---

Jax became an important fixture in Azriel’s life, often accompanying your dates around Velaris. One day, Azriel had recruited Feyre to help get you all into a painting class for all ages. 

You grinned as Azriel led you and Jax into the studio set up with paints and easels. There were a few other families there, setting up their work stations. 

“Azriel, will you make a painting with me?” Jax asked, his green eyes wide as he looked up at Az.

“Are you sure you don’t want to make your own?” Azriel asked.

Jaz nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, taking Azriel’s hand and leading him to the paint station to pick out colors. Jax chose color after color, handing them all to Azriel, who was grinning, trying to keep hold of all the paints. 

You beamed, your heart full as you watched your son and Azriel together, laughing as they painted together. The easel was set up for Jax to reach it, so Az was sitting on the floor in order to reach it whenever Jax demanded that he contribute to their painting. 

Azriel was smiling and laughing with the boy, adding in elementary looking trees and bushes wherever Jax instructed him. 

By the end, they had a painting that looked very much like a toddler made it. It was nearly impossible to tell who had painted what: Jax or Azriel. 

You laughed as Azriel showed it off to you with a flourish, Jax excitedly bouncing on his toes. “Mom, can we hang this up at home?”

“Of course we can,” you grinned, your heart swelling at Azriel’s soft, loving smile.

Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at your painting while Jaz was busy admiring his own painting. 

“I thought you said you weren’t very good,” Azriel murmured, his heart swelling as he took in the painting that you had created.

It was of that day, of Azriel and Jax painting together. Jax happily paints while Azriel sits on the floor, grinning at him, holding the palette of paint up for Jax to use.

“Do you like it?” you said quietly. 

“I love it,” he said, nuzzling your neck. “I love you.”

He felt you stiffen beneath his fingers and froze. He had just realized that was the first time he had told you. 

You twisted in his arms, turning to face him, your eyes shining. “I love you too, Az.”

Azriel’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He gave you a quick, sweet kiss, wishing he wasn’t in public. 

---

By Starfall, the three of you were really starting to feel like a family, and Azriel had never been happier. Cassian and Rhys teased him about it relentlessly, but he knew it was because they were happy for their brother who had finally found happiness like they had.

Azriel kept by your side, his hand on the small of your back as you navigated the crowded balcony on the House of Wind, Jax holding onto your hand. 

The three of you had spent the beginning of the celebration with the rest of Azriel’s family, and even though they had met before, Jax remained completely enamored with Feyre, Rhysand and Cassian, asking them a million questions about being the High Lady, High Lord, and the commander of armies, respectfully. The three just laughed, going along with it until Azriel deemed it was time to give his brothers and his High Lady a break. 

The three of you stood together, holding hands, looking to the sky as the music started and the spirits started to move across the sky, slowly at first, and then thousands of them, shooting across the world like shooting stars. 

Jax watched awestruck for a few minutes before he noticed that there were children playing a game on the far side of the balcony, and he looked to you excitedly, running over to them after you had nodded.

“Stay where we can see you!” Azriel called after him.

You turned to Azriel, hugging his waist, gazing up into his eyes lovingly. 

“What?” Azriel smiled, sliding his hand down your back, making you shiver.

“I’ve just never been this happy,” you murmured.

“I haven’t either,” Azriel said softly, leaning down to kiss you. 

Azriel pulled your body into his then, leading you into a slow, romantic dance underneath the falling stars. 

“Happy Starfall,” he said, gazing down at you with all the love in the world.

“Happy Starfall, Az,” you said.

[peachsayshi]

(minors / blank / ageless blogs dni)

their past relationships, and how it hurt them:

gojo - was used for his status, his money, his power. he’s a pretty trinket to wave around, a commodity. objectified by his past lover, who he showered with love hoping for an ounce of return but never received it. he was begging for love, hoping it would come but it never did. he had to walk away - he was losing his mind. it was the only time he saw his lover fight for him. plead and cry for him. tell him they loved him. but he knew it wasn’t for him. it was because of everything else they would lose in the process.

geto - saw how they fell out of love with him. when his walls crumbled down and they finally felt the cracks on this romantic’s heart. he told himself being vulnerable would make the relationship stronger, but instead he saw the warmth leave their eyes. he’s irreparable, he thinks. too damaged for anything true. he showed no emotion when they said that he was complicated, when they didn’t have the patience to understand him wholeheartedly. after that, he swore he would never reveal his weaknesses again. he would never be naive with his love - and so he’ll keep it to himself.

nanami & higuruma - knows that their commitment is their love. that’s what they believed and because of their devotion, they trusted too blindly. when their lover betrayed them by carrying on an affair so deep into their relationship (by then they were either engaged or married) they were completely taken aback; shocked, and panicked over what they possibly could have done wrong. they were told that they were too cold, and too analytical in a relationship. that there was no passion or fire. they never saw themselves as rigid, never considered that their genuine love would be the reason why everything fell apart.

choso - he knew it wasn’t working; his former lover was different and he couldn’t fit in their world no matter how he tried. he was the thrill, the escape, the outlet that they needed for a taste of danger. choso simply couldn’t handle the thought of walking away. they claimed they loved him but he’s never felt more alone and would rather this than the latter. his brothers would tell him it shouldn’t be this complicated, and he struggled coming to terms with that. walking away was heartbreaking, and he was left wondering if he might ever experience something real with somebody who mattered.

toji - had love, which makes it so painful. the feeling coexisted with his every need, like the air he breathes and the water he drinks. she was his everything, his world, and his happiness. tragedy tore them apart, an illness that neither of them could see. he fought against the fates, screamed at the heavens above for trying to steal what rightfully belonged to him. and in the end, he lost the battle. he was left with only grief and memories. a broken heart that would never heal the same again.

sukuna - was told he was hard to love. he never claimed to be a saint but he didn’t consider himself a brute or a beast either. navigating romance wasn’t his strong suit, but it’s not like he wasn’t willing to put in the effort. that he wasn’t willing to try. however, nothing was ever enough. nothing he ever did seemed to work. every attempt blew up in his face, so he eventually just stopped trying. what was the point anyway, if he was difficult to love? he might as well stop pretending like he deserves it.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖣𝖮𝖤𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤 𝖫𝖮𝖮𝖪 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hi! Apologies for being a bit inactive lately. Been tied up with stuff, but I'm back with a reading for you all! Today, we'll delve into what your future partner could look like. Remember, just take whatever resonates with you. This reading is more so about what sticks out to you when reading.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Virgo.

Your future partner likely has an oval face shape with a more narrow jawline and chin, contrasted by prominent cheekbones. They're likely to have a slender physique, though proportionate in any case.

Tarot. — Six of Swords.

They give off a moody or unassuming vibe, seeming as though they don't express much. Yet, they're quite proactive in changing their appearance, whether it's their style, hair, or even their athleticism. However, they'll always maintain that aloof, 'leave me out of it' demeanor.

Additional. Hermit — Light : Seeks solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  Pioneer — Light : Passion for doing and creating what has not been done before. Shadow : Compulsive need to keep moving on.

As I mentioned earlier, they are constantly undergoing physical changes in some way. They have an introverted and withdrawn aura. They could let their hair grow out and become a bit scruffy before impulsively cutting it off. They maintain a rather deadpan expression when simply existing in their own world. The image of Edward Cullen specifically came to mind when pulling the cards.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. High Cheekbones, Heart Shaped Face, Pale Skin, Brown Eyes, Curly Hair, Cat Beauty, Honey Eyes, Thin Eyebrows.

Yes, very vampire allure-esque indeed. Their eyes could appear normally brown but take on a honey-like glow under certain lighting. Their eyes are quite striking, considering they have feline type features. Although hair color didn't come up during the reading, I pictured them with dark hair that complements their skin tone.

Apocalypse : Cigarettes After Sex.

PILE TWO

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Leo.

Of course, they possesses striking hair like a lion's mane—thick, unruly, perhaps even a bit frizzy, something that immediately catches one's eye, possibly long in length. Their eyes are equally intense, matching their strong jawline. They exude a fierce appearance that naturally draws attention, whether they seek it or not.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed].

Your future spouse might have a more mature-looking face compared to yours or for their age. They appear quite stressed, with heavy eyes and noticeable wrinkles, particularly around their eyes, such as crow's feet and frown lines.

This aspect also reflects in their demeanor. They might carry an air of disappointment, even if they don't necessarily feel that way—it's just a testament to what they've been through. They tend to go for neutrals in their clothing choices, not leaning towards vibrant styles. Despite appearing restless, they naturally possess an attractive charm.

Additional. Mystic — Light : Revels in intimate union with the Divine. Shadow : Delusional rapport with the Divine. 

They have a divine look to their appearance, regardless of their modest and simple attire or styling. There's a hint of mystique about them, but I feel it leans more towards a deity-like appearance rather than a witchy vibe. I imagine your future partner resembling a god/goddess, genuinely embodying timeless beauty.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Below Average Height, Legs, Medium-Length Hair, Prominent Mouth, Broad Nose, Copper hair, Medium Skin.

Your future spouse has a complexion you'd deem as medium-toned. When it comes to their hair, I envision it falling somewhere between medium to long length. Though a single color came out, you could interpret it as having hints of orange or red tones instead. Their mouth is defined by sharp, pointed features, while their nose possesses a broad, perhaps even slightly downturned shape.

Bernadette : IAMX. | Lucky Drive : Sarah Kinsley. | Who Is She? : I Monster. [ I think these songs perfectly describe their vibe. ]

PILE THREE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Aries.

Your future spouse has distinct/sharp, broad features with thick eyebrows framing their face. Freckles, beauty marks, or subtle scars might adorn their face, too. Their shoulders are broad and sturdy. They could be tinged with red in some way. It could be in their complexion with rosy cheeks, hair, eyes, or they just wear a lot of red. Despite a muscular build, they still have curves, whether it's slim hips and wider thighs or a smaller waist and broader hips.

Tarot. — Three of Wands [Reversed].

It seems they may have a serious RBF, often appearing quite frustrated or impatient. There's a strong and confident demeanor about them. When envisioning their build or expression, I see Rhea Ripley 100%.

Additional. Hero/Heroine — Light : Passion for a journey of personal empowerment. Shadow : Escapism and a false sense of heroism. 

When we typically imagine heroes, we picture them as polished and composed. However, behind the curtain, they bear the marks of their struggles, with visible signs of stress etched into their body. Your future partner will be this way. Peel back their layers, and you'll uncover scars, calluses, and an overall roughness.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Gray Eyes, Hawk Nose, Thick Nose, Scars, Thighs, Neutral Tone, Square Shaped Face, Hands.

What did I say about scars? It popped up three times at this point. Their skin tone has a neutral undertone, not warm or cool. Their nose is large and hooked. And those gray eyes? Unwavering. You could simply like their thighs and hands specifically, or there's something significant about them.

Hey Sexy Lady : Shaggy. | Blood Sweat & Tears : BTS.

PILE FOUR

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Pisces.

Your future spouse has round, soft lips, with dewy skin and eyes shining with tenderness. They have a dreamy aura, perhaps lost in thought at times. Their hair may tend towards the finer side. I envision them as 'dainty' and clumsy.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed]. | The Star.

The Star card suits them perfectly. They radiate both warmth and serenity, their presence quite calming. This reflects in their appearance, with a lively step and a clear sense of purpose in all they do. They have a whimsical charm, very cute!

Additional. Child : Orphan — Light : Independence based on learning to go at it alone. Conquering fear of surviving. Shadow : Feelings of abandonment that stifle maturation. Seeking inappropriate surrogate families.

In terms of aesthetic, your future spouse has a more colorful style. They appear youthful without seeming childish, dressing without fear and staying true to themselves, free from judgment.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Alternative, Sparse Eyebrows, Long Eyelashes, Waist, Slim, Small Eyes, Green Eyes, Bald, Masculine.

This aligns with what I was getting at. They definitely have an alternative style. Although the energy initially felt 'feminine,' masculine came out. So, I believe this person is deeply connected to both aspects. They might also identify as queer. And while they could actually be bald, I heard in it a joking tone, given their naturally thin hair.

The Shining : The Neighbourhood. | Confidence : Ocean Alley.

PILE FIVE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Capricorn.

Your future spouse is somewhat lanky but has hidden strength, almost described as lithe. They carry an almost stern and steady gaze, radiating seriousness and maturity. Their bone structure is striking, too. Unlike typical Capricorns, they move with a deliberate slowness, calculated in their actions. They are an alluring person. — I forgot to add that they have nice teeth!

Tarot. — Knight of Pentacles [Reversed].

I picture your future spouse as having a disheveled and unkempt appearance, but in a somehow intentional and controllable manner—it's a bit hard to put into words. Think of someone like Hozier in terms of what I mean. They might give off a slightly lazy energy, dressing in loose-fitting clothes. I don't think they enjoy changing their appearance much and prefer to stick to the same style. I imagine they lean towards neutral or dark colors, something easy on the eyes.

Additional. Messiah — Light : Serving humanity with humility. Shadow : Exaggerated belief that you are the only means through which a cause can succeed. 

This person is confident, fully aware of their own charm. I envision them with darker skin and dark hair. If you're attracted to men, I imagine them having some form of facial hair, perhaps a beard.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Eye Bags, Light Freckles, Prominent Nose, Full Lips, Short Hair, Dark Skin, Olive Skin, Monotone Voice, Puppy-Dog Eyes, Brown Hair.

I think your future spouse aims for that bad boy vibe but doesn't quite nail it. They naturally give off that vibe, but they try a bit too hard to make it obvious. Perhaps they have freckles that become more visible in the summer or are barely noticeable. They aren't very expressive with their voice, but their eyes more than compensate for it, being a bit pouty, too. As for their hair, while I initially pictured it as long, it likely varies based on personal preference since short hair came out. Generally, they have a darker appearance overall.

Beautiful Is Boring : BONES UK. | Judas : Lady Gaga. | Too Sweet : Hozier.

PILE SIX

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Sagittarius.

Your future spouse has a wider face and a welcoming, cheerful demeanor. I see them with a cute button nose, sparkling eyes, and a pretty smile. They are bubbly and curious, with chubby cheeks and a curvier frame. Their expression reminds me of Armin Arlert. AHHH, I LOVE ARMIN! I HAD TO BRING HIM UP. T-T

Tarot. — Ace of swords [Reversed].

This person tends to get easily distracted, often appearing spaced out. Their appearance mirrors their emotions, reflecting whatever they're feeling that day. They're not one to settle on a particular style, constantly changing their look.

Additional. Shape-Shifter — Light : Skill at navigating through different levels of consciousness. Ability to see the potential in everything. Shadow : Projecting any image that serves your personal agenda in the moment. 

Yeah, they seem like a real shape-shifter. Always evolving, whether it's their physical appearance or their mindset. One day they might be all about frills and pastels, and the next they're wearing dark, sleek attire.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Hazel Eyes, Button Nose, Tattoos, Neutral Tone, Fingers, Freckles, Hips, Round Shaped Face, Slim Nose.

It's kind of spooky how tarot readings can be so consistently on point with their messages. Hazel eyes were mentioned, but even if not, they have lighter eyes. They might have tattoos, but I'm not sure of what. You might find yourself drawn to their fingers or hips. I envision them as more heavy-set.

Primadonna : MARINA. | Paris, Texas : Lana Del Rey. | Black Friday : Tom Odell.

[chvoswxtch]

personal

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: lately frank has been acting suspicious, and you've decided to finally confront him about it.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i hope y'all have been enjoying things being nice & light & sexy & fun bc these last few chapters aren't holding back any punches. shit is about to get real. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [series masterlist]

Not even five minutes after Frank walked through the threshold of his apartment, the rumble of an incessant banging sounded on his front door. His dark brows instantly furrowed with irritation at the sound. Slipping his right hand behind his back to grab the handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he turned the knob and swung the door open with just as much ferocity as the person knocking on the other side. 

The creases of annoyance on his sharp features suddenly smoothed into recognition at the sight of you standing in front of him, but not long after, his warm brown eyes widened in complete bewilderment seeing the raw fury that was burning in your eyes. 

“Hey-”

Before he could utter another word, you forced your way inside his apartment, causing him to quickly retreat backwards, wincing when you swiftly slammed the front door shut behind yourself.

“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, right now.”

Frank was utterly caught off guard by your aggressive behavior. The last time he had seen you this angry with him was when he showed up at your place after Cavella and Walker had attacked you. He was so distracted by your incensed entrance, he almost missed what you said. But when his brain finally caught up with his ears, your words only fueled his convoluted confusion.

“There nothin’ goin’ on-”

“Bullshit! Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Frank.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not lyin’-”

“You’ve lied to me three times in the past month.”

Creases of puzzlement settled between Frank’s thick brows hearing that. Had he really lied to you three times? He couldn’t even remember what he’d lied about, or how you caught onto the fact that he was. Frank admittedly had been a bit out of it when it came to you lately, but he wasn’t doing it on purpose to hurt you. He just happened to be caught in the middle of something he was trying to keep you as far away from as possible.

Taking his silence as evidence of guilt, you stared up into his eyes, wanting him to see the proof of grief in your reflection that his actions had caused. You wanted him to hear the severity in the words that lacerated your tongue as they slipped past your lips that had been bitten raw from your tortured anxiety.

“You never once lied to me before Frank, ever. I don’t know why you’re choosing to start now, but if I hear one more lie come out of your mouth, I am done. I will walk out that door and I will have nothing to do with you ever again, that's it. Do you hear me?”

That caught Frank’s attention. There was no waver in your voice, no threat in your tone, just raw emotion and sincerity. 

For the past month, Frank had been acting strange. You’d caught him in three white lies, and while they may have seemed small and trivial to someone else, they were anything but that to you. Because you’d been stuck with a pathological liar before, and there was no such thing as harmless lies. A lie was a lie, and it was a crack in the foundation of trust and integrity that you’d built with Frank, and a crack could turn into a rift, and a rift could divide you and make it all come crumbling down.

Since yours and Frank’s schedules didn’t always line up, you’d both done everything you could to make every moment count since your first date. But lately, it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort. Frank was chronically distracted these last few weeks. He was late to meet you for dates, he didn’t call when he said he was going to, and sometimes you didn’t hear from him at all until the day was practically over. And when he was with you, Frank was physically present, but mentally he seemed to be somewhere you couldn’t follow. Even sitting right beside one another, it felt like there were oceans of distance separating you subconsciously. 

At first, you’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one little white lie. One missed call after a long day. Just fifteen minutes of waiting at the restaurant. This was Frank, the man who had saved your life more times than you could count. He was different. This was real. You had nothing to be concerned about.

But then one white lie turned to three, and one missed call turned into not hearing from him until an excuse appeared across your screen at half past midnight, and fifteen minutes late turned into not showing up at all. His behavior planted a seed of suspicion in your mind that grew like wild ivy, coveting the sense of security you had in him with leaves of doubt, sprouting spirals of diabolical hypotheticals that canvassed your brain with catastrophe. 

Every knot of faith Frank had woven into your heart with his actions over the last nine months were steadily being unraveled by his own hand in a matter of weeks. The confidence you had in him was now frayed in shreds and left you in a fit of mania, scrutinizing his every intent under a microscope. 

You had been here before. You’d been lied to, manipulated, cheated on, pushed to the brink of insanity, and eventually left behind. You recognized all the signs of duplicity and betrayal, but you’d covered your own eyes so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge them, because it was Frank. 

Blunt-and-brutally-honest, jump-in-front-of-a-bullet, remembers-every-little-detail, got-his-knuckles-bloody-for-you, killed-for-you, Frank.

And that’s why this hurt so much. That’s why this dagger of deceit tore clean right through your chest, leaving you standing in the middle of Frank’s living room, hysterical and furious for an elixir of truth that could make this pain go away and heal your belief in him once again. He’d been so MIA lately that you had spent hours camped out in front of his apartment building tonight, waiting to see his truck pull up just so you could follow him inside and finally have this conversation face to face.

Frank could hear in your voice that he’d hurt you, and even worse, he could see the evidence of it shining in your eyes. The pieces of yourself you’d lent him to patch up his own heart were suddenly bleeding at the seams seeing how his unintentionally selfish preoccupation had left you marooned. Shame didn’t begin to cover the way he felt. He knew he needed to be honest, but he couldn’t tell you everything.

Not yet.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But it ain’t what you think, sweetheart.”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”

Frank took a seat on the couch and gently patted the space next to him, looking up at you with diligent patience while you internally debated between standing stubbornly or giving into his request to sit with him. After a moment you finally sat down, but you intentionally put space between the two of you and folded your arms across your chest in a silent gesture of defensiveness. Resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs, Frank clasped his right hand over his left wrist, staring down at his worn boots while deciding his next words carefully.

“I got a new assignment.”

The quiet tone of Frank’s voice and the lack of eye contact while he spoke immediately caused a spark in your nervous system. 

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Frank let a moment of silence pass before turning his head to look at you with an apologetic gleam in his warm brown eyes.

“I’ve been helpin’ Madani with somethin’.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you let out a slow exhale of irritation. Frank had already strained your patience with his behavior this past month, and his obscure responses were only making it worse.

“Why are you being so secretive about this?”

“It’s complicated-”

“Complicated how? You didn’t have to hide the last job from me-”

“This one is different-”

“Different how? That doesn’t make any sense-”

“You gonna let me talk? Or you gonna keep yellin’ at me?”

The way you clenched your jaw and narrowed your gaze at his quip made Frank regret letting his own frustration get the best of him. You were already pissed off, now was not the time for him to snap back at you like he normally did when the two of you argued about something. A wave of annoyance quickly crested within you. The second you stood up from the couch, Frank’s large hand reached out to grab your wrist.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Walk away from this conversation-”

“What conversation, Frank? You’re not doing anything but giving me vague excuses. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Frank gave your wrist a gentle tug to get you to sit back down next to him on the couch. He once again waited calmly as you stood defiantly for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down. He let his large hand glide across your wrist to take your hand into his own, holding it firmly in his lap while cocking his head to the side to try and catch your gaze.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

When he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the prolonged pause of silence caused you to eventually shift your attention back to Frank, and you could see that his brown eyes were a deep shade of contrition.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, and I haven’t been ‘round like I shoulda been. And you’re right, I did lie to ya, and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’m not tryin’ to keep things from ya, sweetheart. It’s just…this one is…it’s different.” 

“Why? What makes this one so different that you have to lie to me about it?”

“It’s personal.”

Now it was your turn to be perplexed. You thought Frank was long past holding you at arms length and keeping up a fortified impenetrable steel wall around his heart and mind. He’d opened up to you before, talked about his life in the Marines, told you about the family he’d loved and lost, even spoke about them more comfortably and freely now without the shadow of grief looming over his words. Why was he back to shielding his vulnerability?

“Personal?”

Frank knew you wanted more of an explanation. You needed more. And he hated that he couldn’t give it to you right now. He hated that there was still so much that he was holding back from you, and that it was his own fault you were even doubting him in the first place.

“Listen, I can’t explain it right now, alright? But I will. When it’s all said and done, I’m…I’m gonna…I’ll have to tell ya some things first, some things you may not wanna hear and probably won’t like hearin’. But I promise, I’m gonna tell you everythin’, alright? I just need you to trust me right now.”

Every word Frank spoke hid another piece of the puzzle he was crafting, and you were left with misshapen gaps of confusion. You didn’t know what he meant by saying there were things he had to explain that you might not want to hear, or how that factored into the job he was currently working. Nothing he was saying made any sense to you, and it only left you with more crucial questions than justifiable answers. Pulling your hand away from his, you got up from the couch and started to stressfully pace back and forth.

“So the reason you’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately is because of this new assignment, that you can’t tell me anything about, other than it’s personal, but you can’t explain why that is. And it’s going to take you somewhere eventually, but you can’t tell me where, because you don’t even know yet, and even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you have no idea how long this is going to last, but you expect me to sit here and act like everything is fine between us and trust you even though I have no fucking idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. Did I miss anything?”

Frank could hear the barely concealed hostility in your tone. He couldn’t combat a single thing you said. When you finally stopped pacing and turned to face him, staring at him expectantly, a ring of treachery was blazing around your irises. He could see it right then in your eyes. If he didn’t fix this, he would lose you.

Slowly rising from the couch, Frank stood there with a dispirited weight resting on his shoulders, a look of pleading softening his warm brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna handle this as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I can’t do another month of this, Frank.”

“Then it won’t be another month. I’ll figure it out before then.”

“How?”

The resentment you felt towards Frank was rapidly fading into pure desperation. All you wanted was an answer, a real answer. Something of substance that you could understand, something tangible to hold onto during this period of uncertainty. Frank could feel the despair radiating off of you in thick sorrowful waves, and the fact that you were close to forfeiting this argument had him instantly tensing as the chill of dread straightened his spine. He had to give you something.

“Listen, Madani gave me some intel, alright? I’ve been followin’ it, tryin’ to find proof she’s right, or if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see.”

“But why did she give it to you? What can you do that Homeland Security can’t?”

Frank stared at you silently for a moment, and you could see a look of hesitation flash in his eyes. There was something there, something you couldn’t figure out. But you could tell by the expression on his face that there was a lot more to this than it being a top secret assignment from Homeland. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Frank. You just couldn’t figure out why. After a terse minute of silence, Frank stood up a little straighter while subtly clenching his jaw, and there was a hardened look in his eyes.

“Cause it’s connected to someone I know.”

The way he spoke that sentence with an ominous undertone sent an icy torrent down your spine. Sensing your trepidation, Frank let out a deep sigh and glanced around his apartment for a moment while lost in thought before eventually looking at you again, this time with a softer gaze.

“Look, I can’t explain it all right now, sweetheart. All I can tell ya is that Madani needed someone she could trust on this, and I owe her a debt.”

Letting those words sink in, you tried to put your biased emotions aside for a moment and think logically about what Frank was saying. Dinah had asked him for a favor. Part of you found it  surprising that she came to Frank and Billy, considering the way she acted towards Billy the day Steven was arrested. But maybe that look of distrust and disdain had everything to do with the complicated relationship they’d had that Billy mentioned. 

If Frank was working for Dinah, then he was working for Homeland, which meant he probably didn’t have a choice but to keep everything from you. And yet, here he was still trying to give you crumbs of explanations, and promising to tell you everything once this new assignment was over. At least you could lay the fear to rest that he was seeing someone else. Standing here now, you felt ridiculous that you’d restlessly jumped to the conclusion of an illicit affair. But in your own defense, it had been difficult to think clearly when Frank’s covert behavior mirrored that of past boyfriends' unfaithful performances.

As your shoulders physically deflated from your own conspiracies unraveling just to get tangled in a new set of ambiguities, you let out a deep exhale and rubbed both of your palms tiredly down your face, grasping onto the back of your neck for a moment. When you first showed up at Frank’s apartment, you had felt completely warranted in your anger. Now, you weren’t sure if you had overreacted in your manic state, or if you still had a right to be upset with Frank. At this point, you just felt drained from trying to balance on that tightrope of your own conflicting emotions.

Frank had saved your life several times over, and Dinah personally made sure that Steven would spend the rest of his life in prison. You owed them both everything. The least you could do was show them a little patience. 

“Alright. Fine.”

In the nine months that Frank had known you, never once had you conceded in an argument. Even when you were in the wrong, you struggled with admitting that you had been erroneous. Frank’s blood ran cold with the thought that he might have pushed you too far healing the casual defeat in your voice. He didn’t want you to give up on him like this. Frank quickly took a step towards you the second you took a step towards the door, reaching out to gently grab your arm.

“Hey, hey c’mon. Don’t go.”

“Frank, I’m tired-”

“Then stay. Just stay here, c’mon. It’s late, yeah? Stay.”

Frank wasn’t giving you any room to decline the offer disguised as a command. One of his strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest while his large hand gently cradled the back of your head. He pressed his lips in a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, hugging onto you tightly while resting his cheek against the side of your head. The rigid tension in your body lethargically began to melt, and Frank’s deep gravelly voice whispering into your ear dismantled the last of your defensiveness.

“Just stay with me, baby. Please stay.”

Frank knew that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t feel that he’d earned this second chance at life he was getting. But he would be damned if he’d let anything ruin this now that he had you. He would’ve told Madani to go to hell if he’d known the favor was going to cause such a big disruption to the peace he’d found within you.

But not only did he owe his second shot to her, he desperately needed to know the truth himself.

“When will you leave?”

Frank hugged onto you even tighter, rubbing his hand along your lower back in soothing slow circles.

“M’not sure yet. But I’ll tell ya as soon as I know, I promise. And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be back before ya know it, baby.”

Hearing the soft sigh that sounded from you, Frank nuzzled his nose into your hair and whispered gently to you.

“Listen, I won’t take no more jobs like this, alright? I’m gonna handle this for Madani, and that’s it. I won’t do anythin’ else that’ll take me too far from you, yeah? I’m not gonna leave ya, sweetheart. I told ya I’m always gonna be here. I meant that then, and I mean it now. You ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout that.”

You tried to find comfort in those words, but you weren’t in the mental state to accept any vows. You couldn’t get past the glaring truth that Frank was hiding something from you, and until you knew what it was, that crack of dishonesty would continue to slowly spread. You had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of your stomach that whatever verity Frank was concealing had the potential to shatter everything; unveiling the illusion that your relationship hadn’t been formed out of the impervious stone that you’d believed in, but rather of futile glass.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[slutmegeto]

selcouth.

requested! plz, write a satosugo x reader fictional where y/n feeling left-out and insecure in the relationship ( full of angst and yandere vibes). requested by! @lolitamermaid123

tw. stockholm syndrome, yandere, dubcon, noncon (to be safe), dumbification, orgasm control, orgasm denial, sex toy, threesome, geto and gojo manipulate you into liking them, use of pretty/angel/baby, mention of starving, implied kidnapping. daddy kink, dom!geto, switch!gojo, sub!reader mdni!

pairing: satosugu x f!reader

it had all started a week ago.

geto and gojo had went from dominating your time, never letting you have a moment of peace and constantly, consistently touching you, kissing you, being with you to acting like you didn't exist.

that had gone on for a few weeks. maybe a month, maybe two, the concept of time had been stripped from you the second the two of them had taken you. it was hard to tell what day it was, or even what time it was, when you were stripped from leaving their apartment. you weren't allowed to go outside, not without them and even then that happened rarily.

and when they left (which was rare; usually at least one of them was home), they usually kept you locked to their bedroom. they professed it was because you couldn't be trusted yet, that you needed to earn that trust before you could have free roam of the house and you'd given that fight up a week or two ago when it led to inevitably nothing but pain.

if geto was out, gojo wanted to cuddle. he'd wrap his arms around your waist and pull you flush against his chest and keep you close. if you had to pee, he'd come with you. if you were hungry, you had to wait. he'd surround you and wouldn't back off until geto came back and then he'd bound up to him and then the both of them would surround you.

geto would be most of the same. he was a little more freeing. he'd let you at least pee on your own and he'd make you something to eat if you were hungry. but he liked to keep you close, sometimes he'd put on a movie and have you sit on his lap. he especially liked when you played with his hair and you'd learned that when you did favours to them, they were nicer to you.

it was worst when they both were home. always two pairs of hands surrounding you, holding you. they never got sexual unless they were both home, some sort of rule they'd promised to each other. but they were insatiable the second they both had you. you rarely had a moment of peace, their mouths on you, their hands carressing you; both of them fucking you.

it was exhausting and overwhelming.

so why were you so upset they weren't doing that anymore?

you shouldn't be. you should be happy, relieved... maybe they were getting sick of you; maybe all you'd been, depsite their words, was a toy for them to test out some of their kicks on and that was it. maybe... maybe they'd even let you go soon.

the hope of that lingered, and, yet... your heart would burn with hurt when they started leaving you alone more. now, gojo wouldn't stay if geto left or vice versa. they'd leave together... just leave you. they wouldn't say bye, wouldn't smile at you or kiss you or say they'd be back soon.

they'd just leave...

for hours. you were still trapped in the bedroom, still locked away. sometimes, they'd leave you some food but most of the time they didn't... as if they'd forgotten. you'd be starving when they'd come bakc hours later and then, geto would prepare something half-assed that barely fed you.

yet, the worst was when they were home. you'd be allowed to roam the house, go where you want (except outside). but, they still ignored you.

they'd sit on the couch together, cuddling, lips pressed against each others. all while you stood there, watching. they'd make no room for you, taking up the whole couch, and leaving you to sit on the single seat by yourself. you'd try to focus on whatever they'd put on the tv, but your eyes would always inevitably drift towards them and watch as they blatantly ignored you.

it wasn't just that. you had no idea what they did when they left, or why they were gone so long but you knew what they were up to when they did it front of you. they'd wander to the bedroom and you'd follow behind, trailing like a lost puppy, only to see them taking each other's clothes off, kissing and eventually fucking each other.

without you.

it should make you happy. this is what you'd been wishing for since they'd taken you. to leave you alone, to stop forcing themselves on you...

but, it didn't make you happy. not at all. it hurt... burned in your chest and made your heart ache. it twisted you with something uncomfortable, chest tight and loneliness flooding through your veins as they ignored you.

you weren't allowed to leave, you weren't allowed to see anyone else but they people you'd had to depend on for human interaction, gave you nothing. you... you had no one.and didn

they'd told you they loved you. when they'd taken you, they said it was for you... because they loved you so much and just wanted the best for you. when they'd forced themselves on you that first night, you realized, they'd still been doting. whispering praises to your cries, tell you how good you were being and drowning you in pleasure.

when gojo cuddled, he told you it was because he loved the feeling of you against him. when geto made you brush through his hair, he said it was because he loved when you touched him.

when they kept you locked in the bedroom, they said it was for your own safety. they didn't want you going outside because they didn't want you to get hurt or taken or...

those word, those praises and those bullshit lies suddenly didn't fill you with anger. and didn't feel like bullshit anymore. it didn't make you want to claw out their eyes or hurt them for hurting you... instead, it filled you with a warmth you longed to feel again.

the warmth felt wrong. you knew it. but you couldn't make it go away.

with everyday that passed, the ache grew worst. it festered, deep in your chest, made it hard to function or think straight. it hurt so much that by the end of the week, you were at your wits end. you were hungry, starving... neglected and ashamed.

i'm not good enough.

they don't love me anymore...

maybe they think im not good enough for them.

maybe they think im not worth it for anyone.

these words burn in your mind, ripping any peace of mind you tried to obtain. you couldn't think straight, couldn't do anything...

it's inevitable. still, you lose it the saturday night, marking a entire week.

they'd both been home all day, but still, they continued to ignore you. wrapped up in each other's arms all day, you'd watched, neglected and dejected, in the background as they continued to act as if you aren't there. their eyes wouldn't even meet your own, solely focused on each other.

it twisted something nasty in you, brought you to a point you couldn't control it anymore.

watching them on the bed, stuck at the door, as geto pulled gojo's shirt off, slow, dragging his mouth up his toned chest. gojo's hands threaded through geto's hair, lips pressed against each others, the sounds of their mouths and breaths taunting you.

a sob wretched from your throat before you could stop it, loud and pathetic, gaining the attention of the two men as the tears poured down your face profusely. you stood there, sobbing and sniffling, looking like a wounded child, as both geto and gojo glanced at you, before sending each other knowing looks.

"what's wrong, baby?" gojo asks, pushing himself off the bed, shirtless and slacks hanging low on his hips as he crosses the distance over to you. geto trails closely behind him, and the two stand in front of you, towering over you, concerned eyes waiting for an answer.

you just continue to sob.

"y/n?" geto pressed, voice still soft but a little sharper.

he wants an answer.

"do you not love me anymore?"

the word come tumbling from your lips, choked in your own tears as your hands come to your cheeks.

"what?" gojo asks, incredulously, as if he can't believe your words. "why would you think that?"

"be—because!" you cry out, turning to glance at the both of them through blurred tears. "you—you... both ignore me! you don't cuddle with me anymore or make food for me and you guys leave.... for—for hours... and—and..." you can't finish your words, the image of them making love to each other while you watched too painful.

a hand falls on the back of your head, another pulling your hands away from your face. gojo and geto crouch down, to meet your eyes properly, and gojo's brushing your tears away from your face as geto brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ear.

"we're sorry, baby," geto coos at you, fingers brushing against your cheek. you miss the look he sends gojo or the smile gojo sends back. "we thought that's what you wanted?"

your wide eyes fall on him.

"you were always crying and pushing us away, angel," gojo explains, shaking his head at you. "so we were trying to give you space."

that's right... you were always pushing them away. you always cursed at them, called them the wost things, said you hated them... you had done all of that.

but... why?

"i—i..." your mind scrambles for an answer, but you can't find it.

"is that not what you want?" geto asks softly, head titling in wonder.

"i..."

is that what you want?

"no," you whisper, the decision coming to you when you couldn't imagine saying otherwise, "no i don't want that. i want you two to... to love me again."

"oh baby," geto tsks, "we don't hate you... do we, satoru?"

"of course not," gojo says without hesitance, pressing a kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter shut at the touch, body tingling at finally having their attention on you again. "we love you so much. but we were hurt by your actions."

your heart spikes. "i'm sorry!" you cry out, turning to him with wide, scared eyes as the tears well again. "i'm so sorry! i don't know why i did that! i... i want you both..."

they both smile, impressed.

"it's okay, pretty girl," gojo assures, nodding down at you. "we forgive you."

"of course we do," geto smiles, shifting on his feet. "we're sorry we hurt your feelings too. made you feel unloved... we should make that up to you, shouldn't we?"

eyes flooding with hope, you meet his eyes before turning to gojo. they're both smiling, hands reaching for you.

"o—okay," you whisper, nodding, "i'd... i'd like that."

sending each other a look, geto and gojo are quick to act on their words. they grab you, guiding you towards the bed, and with ease, strip of your clothes. they leave you with your bra, a pretty pink lace one they'd bought for you; you'd been trying to wear the gifts they bought you to hopefully get their attention.

if the smirks on their faces and pleased expression are anything to go by, it seems it worked.

geto behind you, holding you around the waist, pressed into his lap and gojo sat in front of you, both of their eyes never leaving your basically bare figure, gojo chuckles.

"we should have her like this all time," gojo mumbles, not talking to you but geto. "she doesn't need to clothes."

"i agree," geto hums out, his much larger hands pressed against your tummy. "we could buy her those pretty camisoles... have her dressed up for us everyday." then, with a pause, his head falls on your shoulder. "would you like that, y/n?"

your cheeks burn at their words and their unwavering gaze, but still, you nod smally. "if... if you guys would like that."

your small little whispers goes straight to their dicks.

hands dragging across your bare thighs, gojo lets out a growl; "that's a good girl."

"our good girl."

"hmm," gojo nods to geto. "yes."

gojo then shifts, leaning over the edge of the bed as you watch on in curiosity. he doesn't take him long and when he sits back up with a vibrator in his hands, your body shifts in geto's grasp, twitching as your anticipation builds.

"we're gonna play a little game," geto explains, watching your reactions with a pleased grin. "gojo's going to make you feel good with that vibrator, but there's a twist."

"what... what is it?" you ask hesitantly, eyes unable to leave gojo as he shuffles, moving so he's pushed back, vibrator held tauntingly in front of your pussy.

"you can't cum until i tell you you can."

that breaks you from your stupor. "but... but i don't know if i can hold back."

"you can," geto dismisses, voice commanding. "you can and you will."

"it feels much better when you hold back, baby." gojo explains, "suguru's done it for me before. you'll feel really nice."

your body tenses with nerves, unsure if you really can but not wanting to disappoint them anymore then you have, you nod. "okay."

pressing you further against his chest, geto takes your legs and wraps them around his own, leaving your legs wide and spread and unable to close on your own. he takes a clothed breast in his hand, pinching your nipple between the lace as you let out a cry in response, and then, gojo presses the vibe against your clit, fingers spreading your lips and turns it on.

you jump at the vibrations, your pussy extra sensitive given how it's been ignored for so long. they've never used a vibrator on you before either, only ever pleasuring you themselves. the vibe is a whole new sensation and you shiver as the pleasure builds, geto's fingers working your nipples, twisting and pulling.

"ahh!" you cry out, biting your lip to muffle your cries.

geto slaps your breast a second later. "don't," he orders and you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. "we wanna hear your crys. be loud."

"scream our names," gojo calls out in response, grinning lecherously as you.

swallowing thickly, you let your lips part, and just as you do, gojo increases the strength of the vibrator, it shooting into your core instantly.

your back arches, a cry pulling for your lips. "ah! oh... oh! suguru! satoru!"

"does it feel good, baby?" geto asks, pressing his hand against your stomach to force you back down, limiting your movement as the other hand shifts to your neglected breast, squeezing it in his large hand. "tell us how it feels!"

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips against your inner thing and bites down.

"ah!" you scream, feeling the coil tighten as you squirm. "it feels... feels good! too good! i can't... it's too much!"

"it's not enough," gojo corrects, and as if in punishment of your words, he increases the vibrator once more, on it's final setting. "that's enough."

"you're so wet," geot whispers into your ear. "i can see your juices spilling all over satoru's hands from here."

"she's soaking," gojo smirks.

your hands find purchase on geto's thighs, nails digging as your head falls back against his shoulder. gojo presses a line of kisses against your thighs, all while never giving you rebrief from the vibes against your clit.

"ahh! mm, please! please! please, suguru... ah—satoru!"

"please what angel?" gojo teases, "use your words."

"i—! i'm going to cum!"

"don't," geto hisses, pinching your nipple harder then he had before. "don't until i tell you i can!"

his words fill you with frustration, trying to squirm closer to the vibe but his hand against your stomach keeps you stilled, much stronger than you. you hear gojo chuckle at your useless squirming, biting down on your thigh particularly hard in a way you know will leave a mark.

"please!" you cry, eyes filling with tears as the sensation grows too strong and the need to cum grows desperation. "please let me cum!"

"no," geto relents, shaking his head. "hold it!"

"i can't!" you scream.

"you will," geto growls. "or we'll go back to ignoring you."

your body stills, forcing yourself to hold back the orgasm that is at the brink of spreading through your entire body.

"suguru," geto laughs, "so cruel."

"she needs to learn."

gojo just continues to laugh, pressing the vibe harder against your clit.

"oh—oh my god! i can't! please, please, please!" your cries turn incoherent, a slur of words leaving your lips in desperation.

"please, what?" geto prompts.

mind a fog, you shake your head.

frustrated, geto pulls your left breast out of the cup of your bra, taking your nipple bare and twisting until you're screaming in response to the extra, painful sensation.

"better answer him, angel," gojo croons, "suguru doesn't like to be ignored. and i want to hear you say it too."

mind reeling for the answer they're searching for, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "please, daddies!"

there's a pause before geto laughs, cruelly; "not what i was expecting, but it works."

gojo shrugs up at him; "kind of hot, huh?"

"yeah," geto breathes, pressing a kiss to your neck. "definitely."

frustrated and desperate, feeling ignored all over again, you let out a growl; "let me cum!"

at that, you receive a harsh slap against your breast and then, gojo pulls the vibe away without a word. you sink at the loss of the vibration against your clit, your orgasm ripped from you as the slap against your breast stings as you whine out in indignation.

"none of that attitude," gojo frowns up at you. "we don't like that tone."

"we'll stop right now," geto warns. "i won't let you cum at all if you try to throw that again."

panic seizing you, you're quick to shake your head. the realization that you'd disappointed them again makes your heart ache and you're quick to try and rectify. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry! daddies, i'm sorry! i won't... won't do it again." you plead, voice pitching your eyes well with tears. "i promise."

geto waits a moment, leaving you in suspension and fear. "and you won't cum until a say, right?"

you nod.

another slap to your breast.

"words."

you're quick to oblidge. "i won't cum until you say, daddy."

"wah," gojo whines, still holding the vibe tauntingly in front of you as your eyes fall on him. he's pouting. "don't forget about me."

"i'm sorry, daddy," you plead at him. "i promise i'll be good."

gojo grins and geto nods at him and then gojo is pressing the vibe against you once again.

you start from the beginning after having your orgasm ripped from you cruelly. the vibrations start slow again, gojo slowly working you up as you twitch in geto's grasp, until it's at it's strongest and the coil is close to snapping.

"please! please, suguru, i've been good," you gasp, body on fire. "can... can i—ah! can i please cum?"

"what do you think, satoru? can she cum?"

you watch as gojo shrugs, a whine leaving your lips. "i dunno. does she deserve it?"

"yes!" you cry, body spasming. you're about to pass out if they don't let you soon. you can't... can't hold it back anymore. "yes! i'll be good! i'll be good, i promise. i'll do anything!"

hearing the words they'd be aiming for, geto turns to gojo who nods up at him.

then, your prayer is answered.

"you can cum."

his words are like a miracle. hearing them, and you let everything go. the coil snaps as the pleasure burns through your entire body, spasming violently in geto's grip as gojo's nails dig into your thigh, holding the vibe in place. your eyes roll to the back of your head, choked gasps and moans pouring from your lips.

"ahh! it feels so good! so good!" you cry, the sweat on your forehead causing your hair to stick to it, blinding you through a mess of yourself as you ride out your orgasm. "thank you! thank you! thank you for letting me cum! feels so good! ahh! mm!"

"that's our good girl," gojo coos, pulling the vibe away to stare at your puffy, red and wet pussy. "such a good girl. listened to us perfectly."

geto presses kisses along the crook of your neck, hot and warm that has you tingling in response as your high slowly fades and your exhausted body falls against geto with exhaustion.

geto's hands leave your breasts as he brushes your hair away from your face. "yes," he agrees, voice softer her than it had been before. "that's a good girl."

you shiver at their praise.

"thank you," you whisper, "thank you, daddies."

"that's a cute nickname for us, baby," gojo laughs. "you like us being your daddies?"

you nod, shivering as geto moves your thighs off of him so you can close them, incredibly sensitive.

"yes," you moan, not fully aware of what you're agreeing to, mind blank.

"look at that, suguru, she's all fucked out."

"looks so fucking hot," geto hums, shifting so he can get a better look at you. "looks like our plan worked too."

gojo nods. "i was hesitant... but it seems you were right. she just needed to learn what happens if she doesn't do as we ask."

"poor girls mind is more fragile then she thinks, huh?"

geto's hand falls on your chin, guiding you to look at him as your head lulls in his grasp, not comprehending a word they're saying.

"she's our pretty dumb girl," gojo laughs. "all ours."

[tropes-and-tales]

It's That Simple

Day 16:  Praise Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst, kinda (Bob gets deflated); talk of panic attacks and self-doubt; smut (handjob); 18+ only.

Word Count:  5656

AN:  This was requested by an anon!

AN2: If you've been around a bit, you know the drill: this isn't edited or re-read or beta'ed.

It’s another terrible first date.

Bob struggles to even snag a first date.  He’s unassuming; he lacks the swagger and extroversion to stroll up to a woman and talk her up.  Most of his dates are obtained from other members of the Daggers—double dates, set-ups, stuff like that.

The latest one was set up by Fanboy, a friend of his sister.  Within moments of meeting his date, Bob knows it’ll be a mess:  she makes a face when she greets him at the door, and it goes downhill from there.

It ends when she gets a text.  An emergency, she tells him, and Bob is too smart and perceptive to buy the lie.  But he’s a gentleman, so he nods seriously and offers to drive her home or wherever she’s needed, which she declines.  He pays the bill of their abortive dinner, and he pretends not to notice how his date practically skips out of the restaurant and into the waiting car of a friend.

He should go home to lick his wounds.  Another failed date, another night alone.  He sees the stretch of his life in front of him and despairs that he’ll ever meet someone, and he should go home to sulk, but he goes to the Hard Deck instead.

He might as well break the news to Fanboy, at least, and maybe Nat can cheer him up with her usual sarcastic humor.

-----

The Hard Deck is as packed as always, and Bob—in his date clothes of dress pants and a button down shirt—stands out among the uniformed pilots and fellow wizzos.  He finds the Dagger Squad, confesses his failure to Fanboy, then settles into a stool near Nat and Rooster.

Nat puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze.  “I’m sorry, Bob,” she says.

“Her loss,” Rooster offers.

Bob shrugs.  It’s not anyone’s loss but his, but he offers them a weak smile that fools neither of them.

It’s Hangman who sidles up to Bob, and in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness, the cocky pilot offers to be his wingman—which makes Bob laugh, and it comes out laced with some bitterness.

“No offense, Bagman, but you’d be a terrible wingman,” Bob says.

“What?  Why?”

Bob lifts his hands in a helpless shrug.  “Because you’re….you.  And I’m not like you at all.”

“So?”

He scoffs in frustration at Bagman being so obtuse.  As if any woman would look at Bob if he walked up to them with Jake at his side.  It’d be like an Aston Martin rolling up alongside an old Honda Civic, and that’s the analogy he uses to make Jake understand.  But Jake shakes his head, clasps him on his shoulders and gives him a friendly shake.

“Nah, Baby on Board.  You got it all wrong.  You just need some confidence.”  Another teeth-rattling shake.  “Trust me, there’s a girl out there for you.  C’mon.”

Bob finds himself powerless to resist as Jake pushes him off of his stool, then shoves him gently in the direction of the crowded bar.

-----

The first pair that Jake sidles up to is a bust, but it’s not Bob’s fault:  Jake had hooked up with the one woman before, forgotten about it completely.  He’s moments from getting a drink tossed in his face when Bob tugs him away from the danger and they pull back, reevaluate.

The second pair is a bust too.  The first woman doesn’t even let Jake get the full sentence out before she’s wagging her ring finger in his face.

“Married,” she says, her words clipped.  “Move along, sailor.”

The third pair?  The third pair works out.  Jake hones in on one immediately, a blonde with big doe eyes, but the second one—you—rolls her eyes at him.

But when you turn to study Bob, you don’t roll your eyes.  You hold out a hand, introduce yourself, ask for his rank, then pat the empty chair beside you.

“Settle in, Lieutenant,” and your smile is easy.  “Let’s chat while we watch your friend strike out, huh?”

-----

It turns out you’re drunk, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For one, you’ve fallen in with Bob Floyd, the most gentlemanly man a drunk, single girl could come across.  He’d never take advantage, and in fact, he’ll end up driving you home at the end of the night, getting you into your apartment.  He will take your shoes off of you, tuck you into your bed, and press a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen on you before he sees himself out.

For another thing, Bob Floyd has fallen in with you, the most fiercely sweet drunk that a down-on-himself man could come across.  You’re one of those loud cheerleader types when you drink; the kind of woman who chats up other women in the bathroom, who tells them they’re beautiful, that you love them.  With your friend and Jake otherwise engaged, Bob finds himself caught in the tractor beam of your charm.

“You look sad,” you tell him around the rim of your glass.  “Are you sad?”

You’re drunk and Bob is sad, and you’re staring at him with wide eyes that glitter in the low light of the bar, so he tells you.  He tells you about his terrible date, the latest in a string of terrible dates, that he’s been single for so long and he’s not entirely convinced he’ll ever meet someone, that he’s too scrawny, that his glasses are terrible (one date called them serial killer glasses), that he’s too reserved to ever catch the eye of a woman, too unremarkable looking, let alone—

“No!”  You cut him off by exclaiming it, a near-shout, and your hand finds his forearm and grips him there.  “You’re gorgeous, Bill!  Don’t even say you aren’t!”

He grins despite himself.  “It’s Bob.  But thanks.  I mean, it’s nice of you to say—”

“Bob.  Yes.  Sorry.  Bob, not Bill.  I say it because it’s true.”  You release your hold on his arm and sit back in your chair, your eyes narrowed now as you study him closer.  You’re quiet for a long beat, and Bob squirms under your attention, but then you tell him more and he swears he breaks out in a full-body blush.

“You’re gorgeous, really,” you tell him.  “It’s just that you have a sneakier handsomeness, you know?  Like, that one there—” You gesture broadly at Jake.  “—He’s, like, Ken-doll handsome.  Like, he catches your eye because it’s all symmetrical and stuff, and he’s fine, but symmetry can be boring and someone like you, it’s sneaky.  You have a nice face, and these nice blue eyes, and nice hair, and I bet people think about you after the fact like, ‘oh, that Bob guy, he’s not bad at all,’ and then even later it’s like, ‘oh, Bob, he’s pretty handsome.’  Because you’re that sneaky sort of handsome and that’s the worst damned kind.”

Bob isn’t entirely tracking what you mean, but he shakes his head at the unearned praise, and he can’t stop the smile that’s plastered on his face.  He probably looks like a dope.

“Why’s that the worst kind?” he asks.

“Because it’s deadly!”  You lean forward again, put your hand on his arm again.  “Sneaky-handsome guys are like a virus because by the time you realize they’ve infected you, it’s too late.”

Bob chuckles.  “I’m a virus?  Suddenly my night has gotten worse, somehow.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”  You trail off, polish off your drink.  You wave down Penny for another.  “It’s just that you sneaky-handsome types never understand the power you have.  Ken-doll over there knows he’s hot, and by the mere fact of him knowing he’s hot, he loses a considerable amount of hotness.  But you have no idea you’re handsome, and that makes you even hotter.”

“I think there’s a string of women in the San Diego area that would disagree with your assessment,” Bob replies.  “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless.”

“Oh, them.”  You flap a hand, a dismissive wave.  “There’s a lot of idiots in the world, Bob.  You can’t let a string of women in the San Diego area make you feel bad.”

“I guess I just need to find someone who isn’t an idiot.”

“Ah, well!”  You set your drink down and wave your hands in front of yourself in a ta-da sort of flourish.  “Cal Tech graduate, Bobby.  I work for NASA.”

He feels a warm flush at you calling him Bobby.  “You’re a rocket scientist?  Definitely not an idiot, then.”

“Astrobiologist, actually.  And only an idiot sometimes, but never when it comes to the sneaky-handsome men here at the Hard Deck.”

Bob shakes his head, a little embarrassed at how much he likes you, a drunk stranger, talking him up.  He tries to dial it back, afraid he’s going to fall in love before last call.

“You’re way too smart for me, then,” he tells you.

That makes you arch an eyebrow at him.  “You afraid of smart women, Bobby?”

“Not at all.  It’s just that smart, beautiful, and sweet?  Do you understand the power you have?”  He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he’s in over his head with this:  he’s definitely going to fall in love before last call.

Of course he is.  His question makes you laugh, a warm sound that knocks free the lump in his chest from his earlier failed date.  Your laughter makes him feel drunk even though he hasn’t touched a drop; he feels warm and light and big-headed at how kind you’ve been to him, how sweet, but your laughter is the sound that makes him fall in love with you.

-----

The two of you stay until last call.  Bagman and your friend disappear hours before then, and you shrug at Bob, say you called it all wrong, that you didn’t think Jake was your friend’s type.

Bob drives you home.  You’re unsteady on your feet, so he hovers near you, but you manage reasonably well until it’s time to unlock your door.  He watches you try it, then he reaches out and takes the keys from your hand.

It’s the first time he touches you.

He gets you inside.  He gets you to your bedroom, and you flop gracelessly across the mattress, and Bob immediately goes into caretaker mode.  He slides your shoes off of you, sets them in a neat row by your closet.  He makes his way to your kitchen, gets you a glass of water, then stops in the bathroom.  He rummages through your medicine cabinet—you use the same brand of toothpaste as he does, the same type of toothbrush, and Bob marvels at the strange intimacy of learning these things, the everyday things that not everyone is privy to about you.  He finds some ibuprofen and shakes two out, then takes them and the water back to you.

You’re already drifting off to sleep, and Bob has to cajole you into sitting up.  He gets you perched on the side of the bed and gives you the pills and water, which you take without complaints.  He takes the empty glass back from you, and then there’s a moment—

—you sit on the edge of your bed and Bob stands over you, and you look up at him with your bleary eyes and he sees fear.  You’re understanding what you’ve done, maybe:  you’ve invited a strange man back to your place and you’re drunk, and he could do anything, and Bob sees the flicker of uncertainty, the beginning of fear in your eyes.  It makes him feel sick because he’d never take advantage.  It makes him sick that the world, being what the world is, makes this fear lance through the whiskey fumes in your head.

He reaches down to the foot of your bed where there’s a blanket neatly folded.  He shakes it out, urges you to lie down, and when you do, he covers you up.

“Be sure to drink more water when you wake up,” he tells you softly. 

The nascent fear fades out of your expression, and it’s replaced by a loose, goofy grin.  You free a hand from under the blanket and give him a sloppy salute.  “Aye, aye, captain.”

Bob sees himself out but not before he’s struck with a bit of brave optimism.  He sees the little whiteboard by your refrigerator, and he writes out his name and his number.  He drives home and sends up a silent prayer that his sneaky-handsome virus has already infected you, charmed as he is by your earnestly drunken (albeit clunky) analogy from earlier in the evening.

He wakes up the next morning and feels less hopeful.  He queues up a playlist and sets out on his morning run, but his morning pessimism is misplaced:  you call him a mile into his run, and Bob stutters in his steps to hear your voice—a little rough, but sunny nonetheless.

“I’m looking for a guy named Bobby,” you tell him over the phone, and he can hear the smile in your voice.  “Lieutenant Blue Eyes.”

-----

The two of you make plans to meet up at the Hard Deck, but you don’t call it a date so Bob doesn’t either.  He’s in unfamiliar territory:  things have always been a date or not a date in the past, but he’s noticed that many of his Dagger teammates speak in looser terms—meeting up, hanging out—with potential partners.  He’s unsure how to handle it; if he seems too casual, you might miss his interest.  If he comes on too strong, he might scare you off.

He decides to just turn up in his uniform, as he usually does, and when he arrives at the Hard Deck, you are already there.  You’re perched in a bar stool and chatting to Penny, but when he strolls in, you see him.

You smile at him as he walks over to you, but then you shake your head in a mock-rueful way.

“Oh, no,” you say as you hop off of your stool.  You open your arms and Bob steps into them, and you hug him warmly like you’re old friends.  “I thought maybe it was just whiskey-goggles that night, but you really are cute.”

Bob chuckles.  He releases you, then takes the stool beside yours.  “Well, I’ve been downgraded.  You called me handsome that night,” he points out.

“Sneaky-handsome, actually.”

“There seems to be a whole spectrum here that I was never privy to.”

You wave down Penny who comes and takes your orders.  Once your drinks are in front of you—a hard cider for you, a shandy for Bob—you click your glass against his.

“Here’s to the sneaky-handsome men of the world,” you say.

Bob ducks his head and grins  “And to the rocket scientists,” he adds.

A date or not a date…the evening passes in a blink, and you leave Bob that night entirely sober after long conversations and a lot of easy laughter.  You pull him in for another hug before you part, and this hug lingers longer than the hug you gave him as a greeting.  When you pull away, though, you gaze at him with a somber expression.

“I wanted to thank you for the other night,” you tell him.  “For being a gentleman when you took me home.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”  Your hands on his upper arms squeeze him a little firmer.  “You could have taken advantage, and you didn’t.  You’re a good one, Bob.”

He shakes his head, tries to wave you off, but you squeeze him again.  You don’t let him shrug off your thanks.  You don’t let him downplay his goodness.

“You are a good man, Bob,” you repeat, and you stare at him, like you’re daring him to disagree. 

Bob, who finds that you’re something of a force to be reckoned with, wouldn’t dare to disagree.

-----

He’s still not entirely clear if this is dating or not.  Neither of you actually says the word.  You text each other steadily, and you meet up sometimes at the Hard Deck, but your schedule isn’t great and Bob’s is even worse.  He worries that he’s missed his chance.  When he talks about it to the other Daggers, Hangman rolls his eyes and tells Bob he should have taken his shot earlier, that Bob is pretty much friend-zoned now, but Nat rolls her eyes at that and says he’s overthinking it.

Of course Bob overthinks it.  Bob overthinks everything.

He doesn’t know yet that you overthink everything too.  That you are going through your own pangs of regret, that you think you’ve missed your chance too, that your friends circle around you too and give you tough-love pep talks to build up your courage to take the lead on this burgeoning thing with Bob.

And ultimately, Bob’s hunch that you’re a force to be reckoned with is correct.  In the end, you take charge.

-----

You end up inviting him over for dinner on a night when your schedules align, and Bob overthinks that too. 

What if it’s a date-date, and he turns up too casual, with nothing in his hands—no wine, no flowers?  Or the opposite—what if he dresses up a little, brings you a mixed bouquet, and it’s just a casual friends-type thing?

Bob has no idea how he can manage the systems on a sophisticated plane because his brain grinds to a painful halt the moment he starts to contemplate this dinner at your place.  It’s Nat—it’s always Nat, with her no-nonsense lens into the mystique of her fellow women—who smacks some sense into him.

“Wear a nice shirt, shower beforehand, and take a bottle of wine,” she tells him.

“But what if—”

“It’s always polite to take a gift, Bob.”  She rolls her eyes, heaves a sigh.  “And it’s always polite to, you know.  Shower.  Show up fresh-smelling and neat.  Jesus Christ.  Just go.”

So Bob turns up at your apartment, a mid-tier bottle of wine in his sweaty hand.  Freshly showered, a daub of cologne behind his ears, and a nice blue button-down that brings out his eyes. 

And it’s a good thing he took Nat’s advice too, because you open the door in the sweetest sundress, and there’s music softly playing and the most heavenly smells wafting from your kitchen.  Bob realizes all at once that it’s a date-date after all, and his heart does an alarming little stutter in his chest, enough to stun him until you take his hand and gently pull him inside.

-----

Part of Bob’s issue with women is his inability to pick up on subtle, sometimes invisible cues.  He has always fallen in with the sort of women who play mind games, who play coy and say one thing while meaning another.  He always feels back on his heels; it feels like women speak a language he’s only slightly fluent in, so he’s always playing catch-up to translate what they mean.

But it’s refreshing with you, in this moment, because as you both sit down to the feast you’ve prepared, you just talk with him.  The two of you chat about your lives, you catch each other up since the last time you’ve talked, and Bob almost forgets to be nervous.

Almost.  A pair of tapered candles flicker between you and cast your lovely face in a golden glow, and low, bluesy music sets the soundtrack as you eat.  You sip at the wine he brought, and he eats your home-cooking, and Bob imagines an entire life like this…and he almost misses the way you keep swiping your palms along your thighs, like you’re nervous.

Almost.  He leans into his WSO work, studies you closely like you’re a dashboard of lights and alarms and switches.  He watches you a little closer, and he sees the way your throat bobs when you swallow a mouthful of wine, like you’re swallowing past a lump or going all dry-mouthed on him.  He sees the deep breaths you take, the way you press the back of your hand to your neck, like you’re flushed and trying to calm yourself.

“You’re nervous,” he blurts out when he realizes it for sure, and you pause in where you’re lifting the wine glass to your mouth and stare at him.

“I am.”  It’s that simple.  No mind games, no coy pretending. 

“It’s just me,” Bob says.

You smile at him, and it trembles a little at the corners.  He can feel the nerves in you now, and he reaches out a hand across the table, palm up.  He makes a grabby motion with it until your smile firms up and you lay your hand in his, and he grasps you lightly.

“It’s just me,” he repeats.

“And I like just-you,” you tell him.  “Like-like, I mean.  I wanted to tell you so tonight.”

His heart does that wicked little stutter in his chest, but he squeezes your hand.  “Sounds like you just told me then.”

“Guess so.”  You watch him, and your smile seems tremulous again, so Bob replies, “I like you too.”

It’s that simple.  After you each put yourself through your own overthinking hell, each suffering through your own sleepless nights and needless worrying about dumb things like friend zones, it comes down to a moment so simple that it’s stupid:  just the two of you holding hands as you confess your mutual feelings matter-of-factly.

-----

It feels too easy.  After months (years) of struggling to even land the occasional first date, suddenly Bob’s dream girl turns up just like that.  It feels too easy, and so Bob slips into his overthinking almost immediately.

It goes fine after dinner, when the two of you trade nervous kisses on your couch until the nerves burn off enough that your mouth slotted over his feels natural, that you move in concert with each other—your head tilting one way, his tilting the other, no longer bumping noses or knocking his glasses askew. 

It goes fine as you climb into his lap, the solid weight of you a welcome sensation because Bob’s head feels like it’s filled with helium, drunk and fizzy from the feel of your lips against his, your tongue against his own.

It goes fine when you climb off of him, shaky-legged like a newborn foal.  When you hold out your hand and take his to lead him back to your bedroom.

The moment he finds himself stripped down to his boxers and lying on your bed is the moment it falls apart.

It’s like every mean comment, every brush-off and ghosting, every roll of the eyes and beleaguered sigh and overheard commentary about him crowds into the room and leaves no space for this moment with you.  Bob thinks of all the feedback he’s ever gotten on dates—the serial killer eye glasses, the lack of muscles, the lack of game.  He tries to take a deep breath and finds he can barely pull in a lungful, and his throat feels like it’s closing on him—

And he can’t get hard.  His near-erection from making out on the couch deflates, and even though you are perched over him—you’ve shed your sundress, and you’re in the sexiest, sweetest lingerie set, powder pink, like the underside of a cloud at sunrise—he cannot coax himself back to attention.

The panic that floods him—he recognizes the feeling.  He’s felt it a million times.  He feels the hot, splotchy redness as it breaks out across his chest and neck, and his face flushes furiously bright, and you notice it all in real time.  The sultry, heavy-lidded look on your face disappears and is replaced by pure concern.

“Bob?  Bobby?  Are you…okay?”  You reach a hand out and cup his face, and your palm had felt warm earlier but now it feels cool….which proves how hot he’s flushed, how feverish his panic makes him feel.

“I’m sorry.  Shit, honey.  I’m…I gotta go.”  He tries to sit up but your mattress is soft and he flails a moment, and if Bob were just a bit younger he’d burst into tears at how sideways this has all gone so suddenly.  You served him up the perfect evening, you’re kneeling right beside him in the hottest fucking lingerie, and he’s been reduced to a stuttering, red-face idiot who can’t even get hard—

“Hey.”  You lay your hand on his bare chest, steady him.  “Hey, hey, hey.  Take a second.  Just breathe, Bobby.”

“I gotta—”

“Just relax.”  You press against his chest, tap your forefinger against his skin.  “Breathe for me, okay?  Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.  Fuck, it’s not!”  He raises his voice, winces at how shrill he sounds, and the dam in him breaks.  Something in him dislodges, and it all spills out:  every mean, rotten thing he’s ever thought about himself.  Every bit of unfair criticism, every insult and slight and how his own insecurity has twisted it all into a crippling imposter syndrome.  How he only ever feels competent at his job but how he struggles with everything else, and now how he’s fucked it all up with you because he’s overthinking, always trapped in the own tangled maze of his mind, always waiting for the other shoe to drop because he’s not good enough, he can’t even get hard even with you looking like a dream—

“Hey.  Whoa.”  You remove your hand from his chest, but you scoot over to sit beside him, turned to face him, your expression very similar to the night he met you—the same easy smile, the same studious eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined.  You haven’t fucked anything up.  Take a breath.  Is this because of that bad first date you had the night we met?”

He nods.  “A little bit.”

“There’s been other bad first dates, I guess?”

Another nod.

“And now you’re worried this is just another bad first date?”

“Yeah.”  It comes out a croak, a roughness in his throat. 

“Hmm.”  You lean forward, press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “You wanna hear about my worst first date ever?”

“No, honey, it’s okay—”

“His name was Justin.”  Another soft kiss, this one to his temple.  “Good job, good looking.”  Another kiss, to the other temple, right at his hairline.  “Picked me up and gave me flowers, took me out to San Diego’s most exclusive restaurant that has a reservation list a mile long.”

Bob chuckles weakly.  “Sounds awful,” he says, wry.

You hum again, kiss his flushed cheek.  “He was charming at dinner.”  A kiss on his other cheek.  “Said all the right things.  Asked about my life and listened to my answers.”  The lightest of kisses on the tip of his nose, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Halfway through dessert, a woman comes up to our table.”  Bob feels the gentle press of your lips at the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to kiss you back, but you pull away. 

“It was Justin’s wife.”  A flurry of kisses now, to his chin, along his jawline, near his ear. 

“He was cheating,” Bob says.

“Nope.”  A kiss, this one lingering, under his jaw, on his neck.  “Turns out, this was a little game he and his wife play.  Some weird cheating, cuckolding fantasy.”  Your lips skate over his pulse point.  “He takes a girl out, his wife pretends to catch them, and then they go to a nearby hotel to fuck each other senseless.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right.”  You lift your head to gaze at him.  “Asshole left me with the bill for dinner too.  So Bobby….you’re not my worst first date.  You’re not even close.”

“Honey—”

“You have no idea how hard you’re gonna have to work to really, honestly fuck this up.”  You grin at him, and then you straddle his lap again, and he lays his hands on your hips and stares up at you.

“Because you’re, like, exactly the sort of man I’ve always been looking for.  You’re that sneaky-handsome sort, and you’re smart and sweet, and you took care of me that first night when I was too drunk to make good choices.”  You cup his face in your hands, and you stare at him hard, that sweet forcefulness on full display, like you dare him to disagree with you.

“It’s already a sure thing, Bobby.”  You lean forward, kiss him gently.  “There’s no pressure to do anything tonight.  Don’t even think about needing to do anything.  How about you just let me love on you, and you just relax, and if you can keep your secret wife from busting in and turning this into a cuckolding fantasy, we’ll end the night just fine, okay?”

That makes him laugh, and it breaks the spell of his terrible ruminating.  Bob laughs, and he slides his hands from your hips up to your waist to feel your soft skin.

“I didn’t even think of getting a secret wife before I came here,” he confesses.

“See?  It’s a sure thing, then.”  You lean forward again, whisper in his ear, your warm breath making him break out in goosebumps as you tell him to just relax and let you love on him.

-----

The antidote to Bob’s awful overthinking, as it turns out, is your care and praise.

As far as first dates go, this is the one where Bob learns something new about his own sexuality.  He learns, thanks to you, that he has a praise kink, because your hands and mouth and body on his feels amazing, but it’s your words that make him hard.

Loving on him means you touch him everywhere.  You kiss him everywhere.  You stroke him, press your soft lips to him, lick against parts of him until he feels like he’s on fire in a way that is completely different than his panic attack.  You kiss every inch of his face and neck.  You trail your mouth over his shoulders and collarbones, across every bit of his chest and belly, and you praise him whenever your mouth isn’t otherwise occupied.

Look at you, Bobby.  Hiding this body away under that uniform.

You praise his arms, the muscles of his chest and abs.  You praise his shoulders and back, the smattering of chest hair, the trail of hair that leads down and disappears under the waistband of his boxers, and you glance up at him, the question in your eyes as you toy with the elastic.

“Can I?” you ask, and Bob nods, swallows hard, and you go lower, you push his boxers down and his cock is there, hard from your honied words.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out.  “Bob, are you for real with this?”

It probably seems like a cliché, like the pretty girl in a movie who somehow never realized she was pretty, but Bob has never really considered his size.  He’s been around plenty of other penises through the course of his career, but he’s never exactly eyed up other men and measured himself against them.  The handful of women he’s slept with never said anything so he assumed he was average, but you praise him here too—you tell him he has a beautiful cock, and Bob blushes at the compliment.  He’d never call it beautiful, but when you wrap your palm around his shaft and grip him gently, he’d agree to any adjective you might offer, so long as you never let him go.

This feels too easy too, but the panic never claws at Bob’s throat again.  You’ve chosen him, you’ve made it a sure thing for him, and you’ve cut through his awkward moment of near-flight to get him to this:  your body stretched alongside his, your breasts pressed against his arm, your hand working against his cock while you whisper praise in his ear. 

And every time doubt starts to creep in—he should be touching you too, he should be making you feel good too—you hush him, you still his mouth by kissing him, and you tell him that he has all the time in the world for touching you, but he should let you take care of him now.

His orgasm creeps up in fits and starts, and it seems to ratchet closer with each bit of praise you lavish on him, more so than each movement of your hand working against his cock.

“I want you to come for me, Bobby,” you whisper against his neck.  You kiss his pulse point, a plush, open-mouth kiss that makes him shiver as you grip him tighter, work a faster rhythm with your hand.  “Come for me like a good boy.”

He wants to be good for you; he wants to do as you say.  Some not-so-small part of him craves your approval, and maybe the two of you will play around with that sort of dynamic in the future, but for now, he just wants to obey you.  He wants to do his part to salvage the night he thinks he almost ruined, so he breathes in time to your strokes, focuses on every sensation—the softness of your breasts pressed against him, your wet, hot mouth kissing him, the light scent of your perfume.  The tension in his belly is a coil, and it tightens and tightens until it snaps, and his hips stutter against your grasping hand.  He gasps out your name, warns you, and then a beat later, he comes.  He spills over your hand, thick ropes of cum coating your fingers and wrist, spilling over onto his belly.

“Just like that, baby.”  You kiss his panting mouth, and he feels the curve of your lips as you give a pleased smile.  “It’s that simple.”

[swordsandholly]

def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333

make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))

I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way

But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader

“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”

“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.

“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!

You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.

You huff.

“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?

“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.

“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.

“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.

“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”

You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

“I’ll come by after work.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.

True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.

You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.

All or nothing.

“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.

“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.

Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.

Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.

“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.

“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.

You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?

“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.

“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.

“Yeah.”

“Like this?”

“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.

He huffs. “No.”

“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”

Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”

“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”

Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.

Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”

“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.

“Can you lean in a bit?”

“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.

“Perfect. Good girl.”

It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.

Fuck.

You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.

He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.

“Give it a try, luv.”

A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.

He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.

“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.

[zegrasdrysdale]

matthew knies smut — losing ur v card to him

[ helping hand ] m. knies

paring : Matthew Knies x fem!reader

summary : Matthew helps his best friend out after she asks him to take her virginity

warning(s) : smut ! loss of virginity, virgin!reader, light dirty talk, slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it tbh) oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, protected sex, use of pet names during sex (pretty girl, baby, etc.), multiple orgasms

author’s note : felt like writing something cute so i decided to tackle this request and make it as cute as i could. this is my first time writing for kniesy so if it’s bad then pls tell me lol

༺═──────────────═༻

Being a 20-year-old virgin sucks. Every time she tries to hook up with a guy, she blurts out that she’s “never done this before” and it scares him away. Needless to say, she is getting very tired of being a virgin. She's loves sex, but she's never gone all the way with a guy.

Tonight was just another reminder that she's never been fucked. She thought that after her date, he'd take her back to his apartment and she'd finally lose her virginity. Then he said that his mom was going to be home soon just as things started getting heated, right after she had said that she's never gone all the way.

It's a tiring pattern.

She's frustrated, and frustration means stomping up to her longtime best friend's Toronto apartment a little before eleven. She pounds her fist on Matthew's door then waits. There are light footsteps behind the door before it's pulled open.

Matthew looks like he just woke up, and she feels bad. His Toronto hockey shirt is a little wrinkled and he's wearing sweats. His hair is a complete disaster. "Did I wake you?" she questions.

He yawns, but shakes his head no. "I was just closing my eyes," he tells her. "I thought you were out on a date or something. Why are you here?"

"You'll never guess what happened," she sighs as she walks past him into his apartment. "I did it again."

Matthew laughs and shuts the door behind her. "You need to stop," he comments. "You're never going to lose it if you keep telling guys that you haven't gone all the way. You're twenty."

"I know!" she groans as she plops down onto his couch. "It's like a get scared or something and it just comes out. I wish I could just get it over with and then it won't come out."

He sits beside her and she looks up at him. "Don't rush it," he tells her. "It's not all that anyway. Just wait until you find someone you trust and genuinely like."

A light bulb flicks on in her head. She sits up and turns her body to face Matthew. "Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Sleep with me so I'm not a virgin anymore," she finishes. He raises his eyebrows and looks like he's about to object. "I mean, I trust you with everything I have. You're my best friend. You're not bad looking. I've known you for years, Matthew. I'd be okay if you did this for me. It wouldn't change anything with us."

Matthew thinks about it. She knows by the way he sighs and runs his fingers through his messy hair. "You're sure about this?" he questions. "Because I don't want to do this then-"

She rolls his eyes in frustration and cups his jaw. She pulls him into a kiss, and it surprises her when she feels her heart beat out of her chest when her lips meet his. Even Matthew is thrown off by the kiss. He immediately pulls back. She drops her hands to her lap.

"I'm not going to regret it, Matt," she tells him as her eyes meet his. Have his eyes always been this pretty and blue? She's never been this close to see how blue they are. "I promise. It might bring us closer as friends if we do this. I'm not going to stop being your friend because you slept with me."

He still doesn't seem very convinced. "This is going to change us," he tells her. "No matter what. I just want both of us to be ready for that."

With a nod, her eyes flicker down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes. "I know," she replies. "Just ... please. I'll never ask you for anything ever again if you do this for me."

Matthew searches her face for any signs that she doesn't want this. He won't find any. If she's going to lose her virginity to anyone, she wouldn't mind losing it to her best friend. She wants this.

He doesn't say "okay" or anything like that. All he does is grab her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "If this is what you really want then I'll do it," he says to her, voice slightly higher than a whisper.

"I really want this," she confirms. "Seriously."

His eyes drop to her lips before he leans in and gently presses his lips to hers, and her eyes flutter shut. Her heart beats out of her chest with how soft and gently he kisses her.

The kisses don't immediately turn heated and needy. Matthew makes sure of that. When they do though, she climbs onto his lap in the red minidress that she's wearing. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms loosely around his neck. Matthew's hands drop to the bare skin on her thighs.

Her heels clatter to the carpeted floor beneath them with a thud. Her fingers find a home and curl in his locks. She tugs gently and a soft noise comes from Matthew. She smiles into the kiss that follows and tucks this piece of information away for later.

She traps his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls back. She watches it snap back into place. Matthew looks up at her and she sees that his eyes have darkened a bit. There's a dark fire between them and she can tell he's trying to hold himself back.

"Pretend it's not me," she tells him as her hands drag down his neck and chest until they come to a rest on his torso. She play with the hem of his t-shirt. "I can tell, Matt. You're holding back because it's me."

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm holding back because I want to do this right," he replies. "It's not because it's you. I want to make sure that it's perfect for you."

"Then don't hold back," she whispers to him as she attaches her lips to his jaw right under his ear. "It'll be perfect no matter what."

A shaky sigh passes Matthew's kiss-bruised lips. He kisses the swell of her ear and she keeps working at his jaw.

Before she realizes what's happening, Matthew slides his hands to the back of her thighs and stands up. She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "It's insane how easily you were able to just pick me up like that," she comments.

"I work out everyday," Matthew replies as he makes his way down the hallway to his bedroom. "Sometimes twice a day. I lay hits on grown men that weigh as much as I do or heavier for a living. I hope that I can lift someone up that is nearly a foot shorter than me and weighs less than what I bench."

She can't contain the giggle that rises in her throat as he crosses the threshold into his room. "That's kind of hot of you, Matt," she admits. "I mean, I don't know how you're single when you bench more than I weigh."

He kicks the door shut behind him and gently sets her down so she's flat on her feet. She sees the flush in his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. She smiles and gets on her tiptoes to instigate another kiss. Matthew has to lean down to kiss her because of the heigh difference between them. His hands rest on her cheeks and she rests against the door.

They stand there for what feels like an eternity. She's almost certain that the lace panties she has on under the dress are ruined. She hasn't be able to stop thinking about Matthew's fingers on her thighs while they were in the couch, not to mention the fact that he was able to pick her up with almost no effort.

Her fingers curl around the hem of his t-shirt and she pulls at it. "Off," she mumbles against his lips. "Matt, please. Off."

The kiss breaks and Matthew reaches down to pull the fabric over his head. Her eyes rake his body and it's very obvious that he works out every day. Her fingers trace his abs and she bites her bottom lip.

Okay, maybe he's more attractive than she's let herself admit. She's never really allowed herself to look at him like this. She's never let herself admire him like this.

Matthew hooks his fingers under the very thin straps that sit on her shoulders. She looks up at him and notices how focused he is on his actions. He pulls the straps off her shoulders and lets the dress fall so it pools at her ankles. She's in her strapless bra and matching panties. She notices Matthew's eyes drink her in.

She puts her hands on his chest and gently pushes him in the direction of his bed. She kicks the dress off so she can follow him. As soon as Matthew sits back on the bed, she crawls onto his lap. Her knees bracket his thighs. She leans in and ravishes his mouth with hers. One of his hands finds its way to her curls and he holds the back of her head so she can’t break the heated kiss.

Without realizing she does it, she rolls her hips against his. He hums and his other hand comes down on her bare waist.

A surge of confidence overcomes her and she reaches behind her. She unhooks her bra and lets the red lace fall between them. She tosses it somewhere at the same time Matthew breaks the kiss.

Her entire body shakes with nerves.

It’s just Matthew. They’ve been friends since his first year at Minnesota. Best friends since his sophomore year. She visited him earlier in the season and fell in love with Canada so she moved into an apartment down the street from him.

She can do this.

Matthew lifts her head up and says, “I’ve got you. Okay? I have you. Whatever you want.”

“I want you,” she tells him. “Please. I need you.”

He moves back on the bed and flips them over so he hovers over her. Her curls create a halo around her head. Matthew thumbs her swollen lips and trails it down over her chin, over her chest, between her breasts, and down her stomach until his fingers rest at the waistband of her panties. Goosebumps follow his fingers down her upper body.

She can feel the bulge in his pants so she bucks her hips up to grind her clothed core against the bulge. “Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t just do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll come before either of us are ready.”

She lets out a light laugh. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” she teases.

“Shut up,” he mumbles before shutting her up himself with a deep kiss. She smiles and hooks her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants.

She pushes his sweatpants down and over his ass. He helps her out and kicks them off.

When she tries to put her hand in his boxers, Matthew stops her. He breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I’m going to make sure you feel good and make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” he says to her.

“Okay,” she replies, voice barely above a whisper.

With her permission, Matthew hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly pulls the thin fabric off her body. He tosses them to the floor and she lets her knees fall open.

Matthew attaches his lips to her jaw, then slowly trails his lips down her body. He makes a quick stop when he gets to her breasts. He gives each one a little attention and she lets out a soft noise. She bites her lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

He lies on his stomach and throws her legs over his broad shoulders. She watches as he presses soft kisses to her leg trailing from her inner knee and up her inner thigh. He stops right before he gets to her core.

“Already so wet for me,” he comments. She nods and grabs a pillow to rest her head on so she doesn’t get a crick in her neck.

That’s when Matthew slides a finger through her soaked folds. A whine passes her lips and she looks down at him with her eyes. He teases her entrance and she gasps, “I- Matthew. Don’t tease please. Do something.”

“Didn’t think you were a begger, pretty girl,” he replies. She shoots him a glare and he laughs.

She’s about to say something to him when he wraps his lips around her clit. “Oh my- fuck” is what comes out of her mouth instead. Matthew hums and sends vibrations through her entire body. He slowly pushes a finger into her and her back arches off the bed.

Matthew’s free hand slides up her body and cups one of her tits. She didn’t pick Matthew to be a boob guy, but today is full of surprises.

Soft pants pass her lips as Matthew keeps using his mouth and fingers to bring her closer to an orgasm. He adds a second finger and her hands fly to his hair. Her breathing has gotten extremely labored and soft noises consistently pass her lips.

He’s so careful with his movements, so precise. He knows what he’s doing, and she’s not at all surprised that he does. She didn’t realize just how much he knew. Despite never actually hooking up before, it’s like he knows her entire body and what she likes.

Once a third finger is inside of her, Matthew curls his fingers in a “come here” motion. She gasps and a knot forms in the pit of her stomach. “Matt,” she groans. “I- Matthew.”

“Let me hear you,” he tells her. “Wanna hear you when you come on my fingers. Can you do do that for me?”

She nods and hums. “Yeah,” she breathes out.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” Matthew says. “Come for me. I can feel how close you are.”

His lips are back on her clit and she’s coming seconds later.

Her back arches off the mattress as her walls clench around his fingers. Her body turns into jelly as he fingers her through what’s probably the strongest orgasm she’s ever had. She swears she blacks out.

Her breathing is extremely labored as Matthew withdraws his fingers. She whimpers at the loss and watches him crawl up her body when her vision comes back. He smiles when he sees how out of it she probably looks.

Matthew peppers her cheek with soft kisses as she comes to.

“You okay?” he asks. “Can you do one more?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Want you inside me, Matt. Please. I need you.”

He captures her lips in a soft kiss and she groans when she tastes herself on his lips.

It’s a very quick kiss. Matthew reaches over into his bedside drawer and pulls out a tiny foil package. He puts it between his teeth as he pushes his boxers off his body. She bites her lip as Matthew’s dick pops out of the confines of the boxers.

She accidentally saw his dick one time before now, and it looked nothing like it does right now. “Jesus, Matt,” she gasps. “Is it gonna fit?”

Matthew laughs and slides the condom onto his dick. “I promise it���ll fit,” he tells her.

He hover over her between her legs. The tip of his dick lines up with her entrance and she shakes. Her heart races in her chest and she stares up at the pretty boy above her. “Slow,” she tells him. “Okay? I don’t know-”

“Tell me if you need me to stop or if it hurts,” he interrupts. “I’ll move at your pace, okay? I have you.”

She nods. “Go.”

Matthew slowly pushes into her. She gasps as the unfamiliar stretch and grasps onto his biceps. The deeper he goes, the more it hurts. She pushes through though and pain eventually turns into pleasure.

He moves so slow though that it’s almost painful. She wants him to ruin her but she wants to be able to walk in the morning. Whatever that will look like.

She reaches up and slides her hair into Matthew’s hair. His eyes lock with her as he bottoms out in her. Her lips are pressed in a line. “Okay?” he asks.

With a nod, she says, “I’m okay. Give me a second. You’re fucking big, Matt. Damn.”

He laughs. “That’s not my fault,” he replies. “Most women I hook up with like it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, asshole,” she retorts. “I said I needed a second.”

Matthew laughs again and she pulls him down into a kiss to shut him up. He licks into her mouth and she groans.

Feeling ready, she rolls her hips. One of Matthew’s hands rests on her waist and he meets her movements.

It’s slow, but it feels good. He slowly but deeply thrusts into her. She moans into Matthew’s mouth and he swallows every noise. Her hands slide from his hair to his back. She gently digs her nails into his skin.

He speeds his movements up a bit and she throws her head back against the pillows. “Fuck,” she gasps. “God. Matt.”

“Okay, baby?” he asks. “Good to keep going?”

She nods. “Like you mean it,” she pants. Matthew’s smile reaches his ears.

Matthew throws one of her legs over his shoulder and is able to move deeper into her at the new angle. She cries out his name and he attaches his lips to her neck. He’s covering her entire body at this point. It’s not only his dick that’s big. Matthew himself is a bigger guy.

He slows his movements but continues to bury his cock in her. The knot forms again in the pit of her stomach.

“Matt, I-”

“Me too,” he interrupts. “This is about you. I’m not gonna come until you come on my cock, pretty girl.”

She feels tears in her eyes as she tries to keep herself from coming. It feels too good and she doesn’t want it to end yet.

Especially since this is probably the first and last time she gets this from Matthew. She wants it to last.

Matthew slides a hand between them and as soon as his fingers find her clit again, she comes.

His name is on her lips as he fucks her through what is definitely the strongest orgasm of her life. Her entire body shudders as she comes. Her vision goes white for a hot second and she completely melts against the mattress beneath her. Her legs fall to the bed.

He comes into the condom before he pulls out of her. They’re both panting messes as he ties off the condom and throws it out. She very lazily crawls under the covers and Matthew joins her.

There’s a comfortable silence between them as they both recover from their highs. She finally gains feeling back in all her extremities and looks over at him.

“Thank you,” she weakly says.

“For?”

“Doing that for me. It was fun. I enjoyed it.”

Matthew sits up in bed and leans back against the headboard just as she went to curl up next to him. “I should’ve said something before we did that,” he admits to her.

She sits up and holds the blankets under her arms to keep herself covered. “What?”

He bites his kiss-bruised bottom lip for a second. “I have feelings for you,” he confesses. “Genuine feelings for you and I feel guilty for saying yes before telling you that.”

A day full of surprises.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same. There is a reason she asked him of all her friends to do this for her. She’s always known he was attractive, a genuine guy and an incredible hockey player.

She’s damn lucky that Matthew agreed to have sex with her.

Matthew looks terrified. She smiles and drops her head to his shoulder. “You should see the look on your face,” she laughs.

“I’m being serious,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. Her chin rests on his shoulder. “I like you too. Why do you think I asked you to do this and not someone else?”

He blinks. “I thought you were just tired of being a twenty year old virgin,” he flatly states.

“There was that but I wanted it to be you,” she admits. “I guess I was just shooting my shot.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Matthew laughs.

She crawls onto his lap and lays on him. “When do I get one of those cool jackets the wives and girlfriends have?”

“You want one?”

“I do,” she tells him as she looks up at him. “Is that okay? If I got one?”

Matthew smiles and nods. “I’ll get you one.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist: @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @ivy-34

[ifyoucandaniel]

exactly one person asked and i’ve been DYING to make this, so here are all of my favorite long batman fanfics in general and for new readers @twisted-tales-told :)

cards on the table by @wesslan ! 69k, completed. this is one of my all time favorite fanfictions, it’s so funny and tim is a mastermind genius and a little liar <3 he basically pretends to be a fortune teller and gives scarily good predictions and advice by stalking the upper class and eventually gets involved with the batfam and has to maintain his lies while dealing with his issues :) 10/10, very found family, good angst, so much lying

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone , 221k, ongoing. this is a batman fanfic rec, of course my bbg dark matter is going to be here <3 this is a MCUxDCU crossover where after infinity war (spoilers for that if you haven’t seen it!) peter parker gets sent to the DCU dimension with part of the soul stone and basically is haunted by the ghosts of the avengers while trying to survive in gotham and get back to his dimension. this is so well written i’ve read it at least three times, it’s still ongoing but trust me it is SO GOOD. i can’t properly describe it, but if you like spider-man and you are interested in batman, you’ll love.

Red is the Color of Sinners by @bluelotuswrites , series, 120k, ongoing, M. i want you to look me in my eyes when i tell you this is my favorite series on ao3. it is set after under the red hood and daredevil 3 where jason and matt meet in a church after jason loses his ability to speak following the events of UTRH. they keep running into each other both as matt and daredevil and eventually jason begins helping matt out with injuries and tech. it’s not finished yet, but there is something so compelling about their dynamic in this series as well as jason’s overall character and how he is portrayed. i’m a sucker for mute jason after UTRH and this series does so well giving him a fresh start and a place away from gotham to heal and build relationships. i cannot recommend enough.

buy back the secrets by @vinelark , 71k, ongoing, T. THIS!!! oh my god, so this is a timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but whenever he’s in trouble tim calls for superboy which leads to them meeting without kon knowing. shenanigans ensure when kon starts spending more time with tim! it’s still ongoing but the author is currently working on the next part and it is so so worth the wait. chapter 4 ends on a cliffhanger though so be warned :))

Sales People Know (listening is the most important part) by Mayhem10, 77k, completed, T. this has the coolest urban magical realism ever. tim basically runs this magic shop that shows up places and people who need something find it in his shop :) it’s kinda a slow burn found family fic with magic themes and a smidge of angst!

Retrograde Motion by Lysical, 112k, completed, T. this is best de-aged kid fic ever. jason gets turned into a 7 year old and basically the outlaws, artemis and biz, join forces with the batfam to take care of him. but trust me when i say this is worth your time, it might sound tropey but in the best way possible!! and jason’s relationship with artemis is sooo important to me in this!

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by britishparty, 54k, completed, M. this is one of the best psychological torture/grooming fics i’ve ever read. pretty much what if while our taking photos of batman and robin, little tim gets kidnapped and black mask gets his hands on him and decides he’s the perfect size for a protege. years of psychological abuse and insane mind games ensue. also tim is a Badass™️

If He Had Come by bronwe_iris, 45k, completed, T. so i’m a little freak and i love the angst of arkham knight jason, but more specifically the aus where bruce saves jason before he becomes the arkham knight! this is an au where bruce finds jason and saves him from the joker after 9 months of torture and brings him home. focuses on his healing mentally and physically and rebuilding his relationship with his family

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee), 43k, completed, T. veeeery good angst. basically what if tim couldn’t die? 43k of tim drake whump where he just dies a bajillion times and eventually his family notices <3

The Birds: Hatching a Family by Oceanera12, 81k, completed, T. this is like “what if the batkids weren’t adopted by bruce, but instead they were all foster siblings who can’t seem to stay out of gotham at night and batman happens to find them and decides obviously he can’t leave these kids to their own business, he has to stick his nose in it” and there’s some angst and heaps of found family

The Hellblazer’s Apprentice by @bluelotuswrites, 29k, ongoing, M. what can i say, im a simple woman, i love to see jason with literally any older male mentor :) basically in UTRH what if he took up an apprenticeship under constantine to learn magic to piss off batman! so good, i really love constantine so seeing him and jason interact in a long fic is so good. also ALL BLADES JASON TODD SAVE ME… ALL BLADES JASON TODD-

something in the static by bonerot19, 101k, ongoing series with three main completed works, T. this is a jason centric series where jason still lives in crime alley with his mom and dad and never stole the batmobile tires. it follows his life in crime alley with an addict mom and an abusive dad and one night when his dad is whaling on him nightwing finds him and the bats just can’t seem to leave him alone after that. steph is his neighbor and best friend also and their relationship is so good. this is a “what if jason took a different way home to the wayne’s” fic series and i love it so much <3

catch the asteroids that come your way by ThePackWantsTheD, 54k, completed, T. i don’t read a lot of ships in the batman fandom i’m sorry, but this kyle/jason one is sooo lovely. basically the two of them growing up together and falling in love and then dealing with the aftermath of A Death in the Family and finding each other again :) really sweet and nice!

hope you find something you like! i realized the majority of these are tim or jason centric, and i love them all dearly, but if anyone has any recs for long fics focusing on any of the other batkids lmk! and any other recs in general, i am a fiend for new fics

[fruity-fruition]

I NEED more angry Saki content at this point. GENUINELY.

Guys, I love Tsukasa, Shiho, and Honami with all my heart but I desperately need Saki to finally let out all her anguish.

Shiho and Honami were middle schoolers, you can't blame them, but so was Saki. I love how bright she is, how bubbly, but for the love of god you just know she had some sense of betrayal when Ichika was the only one who appeared constantly.

I want Saki to stand before Honami and Shiho, trying her best to act as her usual self, but finally breaking down and telling them how hurt she was when they never replied to her text. When Ichika kept saying "they'll visit soon" because she knows they never will. How she felt so alone in that hospital room, missing two of her best friends and being so far away from home.

I don't want their friendship to wither, but I have her to be angry because she has every right to be. I want her to hold a grudge, and I want her to feel hurt because she cannot move forward without acknowledging how shitty the cards she was dealt were.

Again, I'm not saying it was Honami and Shiho's fault. They were middle schoolers, they were scared. they were children who didn't know how to cope with their friend being so far and so out of reach. But that didn't mean they weren't wrong. Saki has every right to feel abandoned, because in her eyes, she was.

And Tsukasa. This is a different betrayal, because he treats her like glass. Again, it's not his fault, because for a good while, she basically was. She couldn't go out, she couldn't move around, she couldn't do most things. And he saw her through all of it. Of course he'd be scared for her, of course he'd be wary about it.

But Saki's so tired of being treated like this. She wants to move on, to keep going, to feel normal but she can't do that when everywhere she goes, it's a constant reminder. I want her to lash out, not being she's in the right, but because she's a teen who's childhood was torn away from her.

I want to see Saki snap, I don't even want it to be for a right reason. She could be totally in the wrong, yelling at her brother for caring and trying to make sure she's okay, but she's tired of being reminded she isn't a normal teen. So she lashes out, because she's hurt.

Saki's feeling of betrayal towards Tsukasa reaches another part too, with Tsukasa refusing to trust her the way she trusts him. Tsukasa never opened up to her, being so determined to be the reliable older brother. She's not stupid. She sees what he's doing. She knows something is up, that something is wrong. He's hiding something from her, and it pisses her off that she most likely will never know what.

She feels like he doesn't trust her. She feels like her just being younger is burdening him. That he thinks she can't handle it because she'll always be the "younger fragile sister". She is wrong, and he's never seen her as such, but she feels. That's the whole thing here.

I just want my girl to be able to finally feel and not squash everything down. She'll have to accept the consequences of her actions, but she'll grow from it after, that's for certain. Because she's not going anywhere if she keeps ignoring it and just smiles through (Tenma Sibling trait apparently...)

GOD Saki Tenma I LOVE YOU.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐍𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞✯

IN WHICH... Florence makes Nick play a game for a prize and Nick fails.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! Mentions of needles, tattoo guns, boyxboy content, oral (Nick receives), exhibitionism, I think that’s it.

THIS IS FOR MY TWIN @thenickgirl

"You nervous?" Florence asks as he arranges his cart.

The two were at the tattoo shop owned by Florence's dad, both boys sitting in Florence's designated room.

"I'm not nervous."

Florence looks up from his cart and at Nick's bouncing knee. He stands up and walks over to Nick who is sitting down on the tattoo bed.

"You're lying."

"What? No I'm-" Nick is cut off by Florence putting his hand on his knee, keeping it in place. Nick looks up at Florence who is towering over him, "Ok I did lie, I am nervous." Nick sheepishly admits.

Florence chuckles and walks back over to his cart where all his tools lay, "why? You don't trust me?" He looks up at Nick and gives a faux pout.

"How mad would you be if I said you were right?" Florence scoffs at Nick's words and scoots over to him, pulling the cart with him.

"Wow, that's crazy. I'm giving my boyfriend a free tattoo and he doesn't even trust me."

"I trust you, just not with tattoos. I didn't even know you did tattoos until like two hours ago!"

"Ok well, I've done all of Y/n's so shut up and stop being nervous." Nick's eyes go wide when Florence pushes him down on the table. Nick swallows harshly as Florence lifts his shirt, starting to sanitize his hip.

Florence hums along to the song playing over the speakers as he lays the stencil on.

He peels the paper off and looks up at Nick, "that good for you?"

Nick sits up and looks in the mirror across from the table. "Yeah, it's good."

He lays back down and watches as Florence grabs the tattoo gun, "I swear to god if you fuck up-What? You'll do what?" Nick can't help but become flustered by the shit-eating grin on Florence's face.

"Shut up and tattoo me," Nick mumbles closing his eyes.

Florence says nothing as he turns the gun on, dipping it in the black ink. He allows his left hand to rest on the very top of Nick's thigh, close enough to his pelvis.

To Nick's surprise, Florence is very gentle with the gun, he can barely feel the needle piercing his skin. However, he does feel Florence's hand.

He's sure Florence isn't meaning to touch him sexually, but with his hand resting on his pelvis and the slight pain from the needle, he can't help the blood flowing to his dick.

He tries to distract himself, looking at the posters and trinkets in the room, praying Florence doesn't notice the tent in his shorts.

"You're getting hard while I give you a tattoo? I take it you like pain?"

So much for him not noticing.

He peeks at Florence and sees that the loc'd boy isn't even looking at him, concentrating on the Luna ghost on his hip. "I'm not ha-fuck!"

Nick doesn't know if he moaned in pain from the needle, or if he moaned from Florence palming him. "Really? You're not hard? Then what am I palming right now? You're wallet?"

When Nick doesn't answer, Florence looks up, a smug grin on his face. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

"You're so fucking ann-" another moan is followed by his words and this time, he knows for certain it's due to the hand on his dick.

"You love it though." Florence goes back to tattooing as if his hand isn't resting on his boyfriend's boner.

Nick is shocked by Florence's ability to act like nothing is going on.

Nick closes his eyes and grunts when the needle goes a bit deeper than expected. His hips jerk making Florence quickly pull the tattoo gun away.

"You need to stop moving!"

"Kind of hard not to when your hand is literally resting on my dick!" Nick seethes through gritted teeth, irritation and arousal in his voice. florence hums and goes back to tattooing, ignoring Nick's irritation like he always does.

He keeps his hands to himself, well, to the best of his ability considering he has to touch Nick.

It's silent for the most part, the only noises being the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the music over the speakers, and light moans and groans from Nick.

Casual peeks are given by Florence, watching the way his eyes move from behind his lids, watching his jaw clench as he swallows, and the way his mouth opens slightly to gasp when the needle stabs a little deeper.

All of it goes straight to Florence’s dick, his own tent forming in his sweatpants.

“If you don’t make any more noise and stop moving, I’ll blow you.” Nick's eyes fly open and he whips his head towards Florence. The boy's eyes are still cast downward, focusing on the tattoo as if he didn't say anything.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, if you’re a good boy and stay silent and stop moving, I’ll blow you. If you don’t listen, then it’s off the table-“ Florence looks through his lashes and licks his lips, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“So? What do you say?”

Nick's dick only gets harder, the tent rising even more. It was no secret between the two that Nick loved receiving head from the boy. The way his plump lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and his tongue swirled always sent him over the edge.

Florence clicks his tongue, "I'll take that as a yes?"

His mouth runs dry at the thought, only being able to give a short nod as a response

“Good boy, now lay back and relax.”

The session continues, and it seems like Florence is pressing harder than before in attempts to get Nick to crack. Nick does his best to stay quiet, biting his lip raw and taking deep and shakey breaths.

A soft whimper falls from Nick's mouth when Florences's hand grazes his bulge. Nick tenses hoping the boy didn't hear it

Eventually, Florence finishes the tattoo and wipes it down, smiling at his work. He put the saniderm on and takes off his gloves, throwing the latex away.

"All done! What do you think?" Florence scoots back in his chair as Nick stands up. He walks over to the mirror and smiles at the ink on his hip. "You like it?" Florence walks up behind him, tracing the ink over the saniderm. Nick smiles and nods, very satisfied with the ghost.

"Yeah, you did good-" he turns around and presses his body against Florence, "-and I was good too."

Florence smirks and pulls away from the shorter boy, "no you weren't." Nick watches in confusion as Florence begins to clean up the station. "uhh yes I was."

"No, you whimpered, you thought I didn't hear it but I did. Now come on, let's get your stuff and go." Nick blocks the door, stopping Florence from leaving.

"That's not fair! You touched me and you expect me not to moan?" Florence sits down on the surgical bed, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Nick walks closer to him, his eyes pleading for the other boy to touch him.

Suddenly Nick is yanked forward and a hand is on his crotch. Florence palms him, watching as his eyes flutter shut. "This is what's going to happen, I'm going to blow you-" Nick's eyes snap open as a grin forms on his face. "-but the same rules apply. No noise." Nick huffs but agrees anyway.

He's desperate at this point, the tent in his shorts starting to hurt.

Florence pushes him back slightly and sinks to his knees, still palming him. He pulls down nicks shorts and boxers, wrapping his hand around nicks, aching cock.

Nick takes in a shaky breath and closes his eyes as Florence begins to jerk him off. “You want my mouth?” Nick opens his mouth to answer but quickly closes it remembering the rules. Florence snickers before taking Nick in his mouth.

Nick bites his lip and grips onto the surgical bed, his knuckles turning white. Florence hollows his cheeks as his head moves up and down, his tongue working diligently around Nick's shaft.

Nick's having a hard time staying quiet, biting both his lip and tongue, holding his breath, all he can do is let out soft pants and breathe heavily.

Florence wants him to crack, he always found it entertaining when Nick lost. He enjoyed watching the blonde get worked up and frustrated. He removes his hand and deepthroats Nick, starting to fondle his balls.

Nick's head lulls back as he bucks his hips, a moan almost escaping his mouth. Florence pulls back and circles his tongue around the tip, enjoying the bucking of Nick's hips. “Come on, you know you want to moan,” Nick looks down at Florence with a nasty look.

“You close?” He nods, his chest rapidly moving up and down. Florence’s hand finds its way back to Nick's shaft, rubbing his thumb all over the tip.

“Mmm, I guess I’ll let you cum since you finally followed the rules. You know, you’re really hardheaded.”

Before Nick could even fix his lips to say something snarky, Florence quickly takes Nick back in his mouth, bobbing his head at a fast pace to get Nick to his climax. Nick moans loudly at how fast Florence is moving, the lewd slurping noises mixed with Florence’s moans around him sending him right over the edge.

“Shit-“ Florence stops and looks up at Nick, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he watches Nick finally have his orgasm.

His head hangs low, his lips parted slightly as his eyes clench shut. His cheeks have a soft hue of pink as well, only getting brighter as he comes down.

Florence pulls off of Nick, swallowing the seed in his mouth and raising to his feet. “See? It wasn’t that hard to follow directions.” Nick ignores him and pulls his pants up, still trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You love it,” Florence plants a quick kiss to Nick's lips, the blonde breaking out into a soft smile. The two walk out of the back room with all of their things passing by a few faces.

“How does the new tattoo look kid?” Florence’s dad Gerald stops them at the desk. “It looks good, I love it.”

“I’m shocked you all didn’t stop halfway, I heard you moaning and groaning back there. Florence has a tendency to be a bit heavy-handed.”

Nick freezes in embarrassment. He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Florence flicks his dad off, spewing something along the lines of “hush it, old man,” and grabbing Nick's arm to drag him out of the shop.

“Flo your dad heard me!”

“Why do you think I told you to shut up and not make noise? Now get in the car, I want to go home and take a nap.”

Nick Nation I hope I didn’t disappoint yall!!!!

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[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[puppetmaster13u]

Who Wants a WIP of a thing I'm workin on of Batkids messin with the JL. Well technically they're going to, as soon as Bruce can be convinced to introduce them.

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   “Hey,” a figure crouched on the edge of a building chirped, the sound borderline literal as an easy-going grin spread across their face. “Hey B. B, I know you can hear me~” They poked a larger figure, one who was barely noticeable in the shadows and only by the glimmering white-out eyes that gleamed in the distant lamps below. 

   The first figure grinned wider when their prodding got a grunt, canines sharp. “C’mon B, you can’t just keep us here our entire lives,” they sang, voice dipping into twittering as they giggled. “Your League is already snoopin’ around Blud, and already tried to contact Auntie.” 

   Another grunt, the larger figure grumbling as though to say bet. The smaller snorted. “Seriously, you’ve never been able to get us to do what you say, you won’t be able to suddenly do so now!” 

   They squawked when a gloved hand with claws tugged them beneath a cloak, tucking them against the one they were heckling. “B, seriously! We’re not babies anymore, we can take care of ourselves y’know!” 

   An insistent grunt, claws combing through black hair. They rolled their eyes, even if it wasn’t visible beneath the domino-esque mask on their face. “I know you’re an adult now, Nightwing,” they said in a mocking exaggerated growl. “I trust you, Nightwing. I’m not a worry-wart Nightwing. Weren’t you the one to say we could trust the league?” 

   His ear was cuffed for his trouble, causing him to roll his eyes again. “Geeze, Batman, don’t be so excited and jumpin’ for joy now.” 

   Another grumble, insistent. 

   “No no, you don’t get to pull but my babies,” Nightwing mocked. “I don’t need your permission y’know! I could stop hiding whenever the J-L goes into Bludhaven and boom! Besides-” He grinned, tucking himself against his companion. “If we can go up to the Watchtower you can see us more often, Dad!” 

   Bingo. 

   Batman grumbled, arm tightening around him in a sort of side-hug. But he was thinking about it, which was more than a start. Bruce had a ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ sort of mindset when it came to him and his siblings after all, so all that was needed was for one of them to start asking. 

   “Please Dad?” he wheedled, poking his head out from under the cloak to look up at B with wide eyes. “I’ll stay right next to you or auntie the entire time so you know I’m safe!” 

   The older vigilante faltered, head turning away. Nightwing was stubborn though- he’d managed to convince B for him to go out when he was younger, and that was in Gotham- so he could definitely convince him of this. 

   “Pretty please Dad? I won’t take off my trackers or anything!” he made sure his voice was earnest, even if he was pouting. “I’ll even… ergh,” he fake gagged. “I’ll even wear the child-leash.” The dreaded child leash, the thing that haunted him as a child, and now haunted his siblings just as much. 

   “Hrn…” He was squished more against his father’s side, the hug tightening before he was let go. “We’ll discuss it at home.” 

   Well.

    It wasn’t a no.

[scar-lie]

Omega Pt. 14 {Natasha}

Summary : Seeing a little hope makes Natasha be protective and want to win you back again little by little

Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega ! Reader

Warning : Nothing

World count : 2,283

{OMEGA PT. 13} {OMEGA PT. 14} {OMEGA PT. 15}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

Natasha has been sleeping in your room on the floor for the past four days now. You don’t have a heart to tell her that you four are okay and that she doesn’t need to guard you, so you just let her and offer her the couch at least, but she is still persistent about sleeping on the floor, so you just let her again and respect the boundaries between you two.

But Natasha has three reasons why she keeps insisting on sleeping in your room: first, to guard you; second, to be as close to the four of you as possible; and third, to at least earn herself even a little of your trust, and maybe there’s a chance. She hopes so, though.

And she’s still clinging to the idea that she can still earn the title of Alpha of yours someday, a baby step but still wanting to win you back, and she hopes that maybe you’ll lay beside her again and she’ll never gonna let you away from her hold, and the fact that she regrets sending you away when you let your thoughts win you and craving her hold.

So Natasha simply and secretly lay besides on the other side of the bed while admiring the four of you, peacefully and safely sleeping, but that’s only a few minutes, and she will go back to her makeshift bed to sleep by herself, and that’s enough for her to sleep alone in her room.

It took her weeks before you started to open up to her, letting her help you around, like cleaning the bathroom, and letting her help you when your back is hurting from the constant carrying of either one of the pups. To be honest, Natasha gives the best massage, and she also goes with you when you stroll the pups in the park.

But today, Natasha planned the whole day; every single detail was perfectly planned, and she hopes that everything will go according to her plan.

“Hi, I make breakfast,” then Natasha lightly brings the tray full of food to indicate that she really makes breakfast.

You blinked a few times and rubbed your eyes since it’s basically 6 in the morning and you’re not ready to wake up just yet, and the situation you're in makes Natasha chuckle at how cute you look. You glared up at her when you heard her chuckle.

“Why are you laughing? It’s too early for your breakfast,” you groan, leaning your head on the door frame while you yawn and stretch your limbs.

“It’s actually quarter to 7, and I just want to surprise you for breakfast in bed,” she says, giving you a shy smile, so you open the door wide open, and then you two proceed to the bed.

But before she could set the tray down, she looked at you, who’s already sat on the bed while your back was leaning in the bed frame, giving her a pout and puppy eyes.

“What’s wrong? ”Natasha then gave you the sandwich she made, then sat down in front of you.

“My back is still hurting.” You whimper a little, then take a bite of the sandwich. Natasha frowns at what you said; she doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, even if your back doesn’t hurt for her to give you a massage, or if it really is.

And she doesn’t have any issue or complaint about massaging you, but she noticed that your back is hurting a lot these days, and that's concerning her. Maybe something is wrong.

“Have you gone to Dr. Cho? Your back is hurting a lot these days.” Natasha then pulled you up a little to sit up and scoot you forward so she could sit down on your back and start to lightly massage your shoulder, making you moan a little at the satisfaction.

“Lower please, my lower back is killing me,” Natasha chuckles and scoffs out of amusement, then she lightly bends you down and lightly massages your lower back.

“Y/N, did you see Dr. Cho for your back pain?”Natasha asked again, and you shook your head and looked over your shoulder to give her a shy and apologetic smile, and that’s when Natasha knew the answer.

“We should visit her; maybe something is wrong.” By hearing it, your mood changed. It saddens you that you have to visit the medbay again and scares you that you will be admitted there again and can’t take care of your pups as much as you do, and like Natasha can read your mind, she sits down in front of you.

“Hey, we're just going to visit her and maybe do some tests, nothing serious.” You sighed, nodded, and took a bite of your sandwich.

"Ok.” You both then start eating your breakfast before the three pups start to wake up, and Natasha goes to Wanda and Yelena to ask if they can look after the pups the whole day since she’s still wishing that at least half of her plan will be done.

“Ok, Y/N, Nat, the result came up clean, no sign of abnormalities or anything different, but I would like to give some medicine to help the pain, and also don’t lift heavy materials for a week and get rest as much as possible. You need to let your body have a break since tending to the three pups could be overwhelming and hard, and please come back here after a week. I would like to run some tests again to make sure. That’s all.” Dr. Cho smiled at the both of you and gave you the medicines she prepared right before she entered the room.

"Thanks,” you two both said, then stood up to the bed you’ve been waiting for.

“Take those two times a day, morning and night, after your meal, and you have to take those 12 hours apart.” You two smile and nod, then thank her once again before you two walk out of the medbay with a sigh of relief.

“So, I planned this day to go out, and since Wanda and Yelena have the pups, maybe we could go out?”Then Natasha presses the elevator, going up to your floor.

“But Dr. Cho said, ‘Get rest as much as possible.’” You mimic her, then Natasha gives you a pout.

“I know, but I swear, no extreme activities, just walking around the park.” You bite your lower lips and sigh, knowing you can’t say no to those pouts.

"Fine,” you said, then Natasha smiled and quickly dragged you to your room to change, and so did she.

“Nat, look, I want those,” you pointed to the man who’s selling some balloons, a teddy bear, and some bracelets around the park.

“Which one? ”Nat asked, already taking your hand and leading you to the vendor that makes you squeak with happiness, and you jump a little, making Natasha laugh at your childishness.

“I want to have us a matching bracelet,” you said while looking at the various colors and various types of beads in the bracelet.

"Well, we could get those; which one do you think looks beautiful? ”Natasha, then join you in looking at the bracelets.

“Do you want a tulip? Or heart? Or maybe Shell? Gosh, they are beautiful; I can’t choose,” you whine, frowning, getting a little frustrated about what to choose, but Natasha smirked and saw a perfect bracelet.

“Why not this one? It looks good, and since you love nature, I think it will look pretty on you,” Natasha said, taking the butterfly bracelet, where there’s a big crystal bead in every two pink beads, and in the middle of those two are a little rock bead, and in the pendant, there’s two butterflies, one big with a little butterfly.

“But it's too girly,” you mumbled, looking up at her with a question.

“And? So? ”Then Natasha put it on you with a smile; seeing it really suits you, she took another one and put it on her wrist.

“Now we're matching,” she said, giving you a smile and taking a 20-dollar bill, saying to keep the change, then intertwining your hands with hers.

“But Nat, it looks too girly on your wrist.” You stop her from walking, getting worried that she will just throw it away when your back is facing her or that she will talk behind your back. You know, Natasha, she hates too many girly things when it comes to her things, and you already know and heard the way she insults them and the person when someone gives her girly things.

“So, I love it; it matches yours.” Then Natasha analyzed your facial reaction and body language and realized what you were thinking.

“I don't care if it's too girly; as long as it comes from you, I don't care what other people say. I love them,” Natasha said the last words when she looked down on our wrist with a smile, making me squeeze her hand.

“Now let's go get ice cream,” you cheer, and now you're the one who's dragging her to your favorite ice cream parlor.

“What flavor do you like? ”Natasha then took out her wallet, and you hummed, thinking and choosing what flavor you liked.

“I would like a mint chocolate chip and chocolate chip cookie dough.” You then stand beside Natasha with a smile.

“Ok, one of those, and I would like a vanilla and buttered pecan, please.” You two then wait until they serve you your ice cream, and after you get your ice cream, you two proceed to walk around the park.

But you're suddenly uncomfortable and shifting your stance, looking around the park, then fisting Natasha's shirt and going closer to Natasha.

“Natty? ”You whisper, the ice cream is getting forgotten that it is slowly melting.

“Mhh? ”Natasha, look at you after she licks at her ice cream. Seeing you uncomfortable and frowning, stop on her track.

“Something is wrong,” Natasha says, then surveys the surroundings and sends an alert to the team in case something happens.

“I feel like someone is watching us,” you added, and when you feel the cold ice cream running down your hand, you quickly wipe it with a handkerchief and lick the remaining on the cone.

“We should go home,” you nodded, and when you two turned around, that's when there's an explosion a few feet away from you, Natasha shielding you with her body.

"Fuck,” Natasha said, then saw armed people scattering around, so she pressed the emergency alert again.

“Shit shit shit,” then Natasha throws you on her shoulder and runs, getting you to a safe place, and that's when Tony, Wanda, and Sam come to the scene, landing perfectly and smoothly.

"Romanoff!” Tony shouted and came to her.

“I’ll go get her to the tower; go help them." Natasha gently put you in Tony's arms, then ran where Wanda and Sam were.

“Thought you might need these.” Sam gave her a pistol and a knife, smirking, but Natasha rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, sure, it will help me in the long run. Nice help, bird brain,” they both chuckle, but before Natasha could launch to the enemy, you were screaming her name.

“NAAAATTTT! "You screamed when Tony got hit in the middle of the air, hitting him in the arm and losing balance, making you fall.

“Wanda, catch Y/N!” Natasha shouted and ran to you. Wanda on the other side quickly turned around and saw you falling, so she quickly caught you with her powers and brought you down.

“Nat on your back!” Tony shouted, getting up to the floor and firing at the enemy who's on Natasha's back.

But before you could run to Natasha, someone grabbed you and put a handkerchief over your nose and mouth. You tried to wiggle out of their hold, but the longer you inhaled the toxin in the handkerchief, the harder it was for you to get out of their hold.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Natasha then ran faster, and thankfully Wanda saw what happened, so she quickly flew where you were.

“Put her down! ”Natasha's eyes are bright red while she holds the man with her powers in the neck and hand, where he was holding the knife on her neck.

But when he smirked and shook his head, Wanda quickly snapped his neck, and you fell to the ground unconscious.

“The team is already on their way; I’ll go take her to Dr. Cho. The pups are with Kate, and Yelena brought your batons, widow bites, and gun,” Wanda said when she scooped you up and turned to Natasha, who's checking on you for other injuries.

“I need,” Wanda quickly said, shutting her up and taking you away from her.

“I’ll have her; I’ll make sure she's safe; the city needs you, Nat, and it will be faster and safer if I fly her to Dr. Cho.” Then Wanda put Shield around you two and started to fly when Natasha gave her permission.

“Take care.” Then Wanda will fly you to the tower without any attacks on her way, and she will get you to Dr. Cho safely as she promised.

[thecuriousquest]

Waiting for Marriage

Yan!Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, heavy Yandere themes, non con sex, non con groping, sexual touching, headlocks, biting, thigh slapping, non con photo taking, 18+ characters

Master List

—————————————————————————

You were trying so hard, you just needed a bit of patience from Bakugou. You really wanted to wait for marriage. You felt like it would be so special.

But he’s impatient. He’s grumpy. He’s insatiable. And he loves you so much his cock aches and he palms his crotch whenever he hears you in the shower.

And when you come out of the bathroom, wet and glistening with water droplets clinging to you as you adjust the fluffy towel around your breasts, there’s not much else he can do. He can’t hold back any longer.

Katsuki, as if with some kind of panther quirk, pounces at you like a feral animal, mating season be damned. He cups your ass with both hands, groping the fabric of the towel and getting so fucking frustrated as he plants the most passionate kisses on your lips.

A low growl ascends from his throat as he tears the barrier away from your body. He’s frantically pushing you and pushing you, more and more until you find purchase against the dresser.

The pro hero spins you around, and in your wake of realization, as things begin to catch up and the brain fog dissipates, you finally understand what’s happening.

“No, no, wait! Katsuki, you said you’d wait!”

He rids himself of his shirt, pants second. Barefoot, bare back, bare thighs, bare arms, throbbing dick. He’s all muscle with a pretty boy erection. Cock long and thick enough to induce orgasm after orgasm while the golden hair is kept perfectly trimmed.

Oh, you didn’t know what he was packing…but still! You want your first time to be special. You want it to be on your honeymoon in the hotel with your rings on and looking each other in the eyes. You want passion. Not possession. Not this.

Not Katsuki trying to fuck you up against the dresser after you just took a shower.

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you push and shove at his chest. “I said no! No! Stop it!”

His sharp teeth come down hot on your neck, leaving behind a stinging, throbbing pain in your skin. Your head falls back in pain as you arch your back, spine feeling like boiling water as his hands heat up from all the excitement.

You’re fighting Bakugou too much. He doesn’t like that. These past few months have been so painful for him. He loves you deeply, wants to make you happy. You just make his dick so hard, and really…isn’t that kind of your fault?

The ash blonde keeps you bent over the dresser in your midst of what he would deem a “tantrum”. You face the mirror as he lines up his thick mushroom tip with your little slit, your tight virgin cunt not having tasted the fruit of the opposite sex.

“I’ve needed this, Teddy Bear,” he finally rasps into your ear as he plunges eight inches deep.

“No!!! No! Fuck you! You said you’d wait! You promised! You liar!”

You can see it, can see your eyes shinning with the gloss of fresh tears. It’s all because of him. You trusted him! How could he take that trust and spit on it, stomping it to little bits and pieces like it was nothing to begin with?

He doesn’t even have the capacity to roll his eyes right now at your dramatic flare. He’s too busy breeding your virgin cunt to even take in anything you’re saying.

He hears the sounds, but he’s not listening.

In one fluid motion, his forearm travels around your neck, his elbow to your windpipe as he rocks into you. He pulls you in closely as he watches you in the mirror. Katsuki can’t help but choke you a little with the hold he has you in. A nice and deep headlock while he fucks your sloppy pussy.

You’re bent over the dresser all the way by now, hips bumping into the wood as your cheek is pressed against your reflection. He forces your feet further apart and thrusts into you faster and deeper, harder and harder.

“You said-“

“Huh?! You’re still talking? Should I shove my dick in your mouth next just to shut you up? Fucking slut. Just lay there and take it. Fucking…take it.”

Him inside of you like this is so overwhelming. You feel your thighs shaking, your lower belly clenching around a knot as he plows into you and pulls away before thrusting deep inside again.

The knot finally comes undone, and you feel a sense of ease wash over you. It all goes away when you feel that your boyfriend is still pounding away at your pussy.

It’s all over, and you feel your orgasm, his come, and your virgin blood spilling down your thighs.

You hear the camera on his phone go off, and you whimper as you try to shy away, but all Katsuki does is land a harsh slap to your inner thigh to make you stay still. You yelp loudly at the painful sensation, the fluids running down your legs making the smack ten times harder.

He wipes the sticky mixture off on your asscheek and laughs. “Heh…looks like someone’s gonna need another shower. Come on. I gotta wash my dick off.”

Bakugou grabs your wrist and leads you back into the bathroom, and you can’t help but nod and follow along, absolutely afraid of what he might do if you say “no”. It’s not like he listened the first time…

[hawkinsquarry]

all things must pass (steve x reader)

summary: steve makes you leave him at the end of the world.

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; no pronouns used for reader; post-st4; unresolved angst; probably too much swearing :/

i miss this guy and i’m feeling insane over him so have some angst with an ambiguous ending 🫶🏻

Steve’s feet feel particularly heavy when we steps across your foyer. And the packet he has in his hands feels even heavier. He brushes off a few specs of ashes before slamming them down on the table in front of you, lazily eating cereal.

“What the hell is this?” you ask after a moment, grabbing the ledger on top. You know immediately it’s an airline ticket. It makes you feel sick and you push your Cheerios away as your eyes scan the details.

FROM-TO

IND > LA

You want to fucking kill him but you don’t have a chance as he breezes past, grabbing your suitcase out of your walk in closet.

“You depart in twelve hours,” he starts. He recited it in his head the entire way over to make the conversation easier, but the words are hard to get out. “Only take your essentials. When you’re there, a chauffeur will pick you up and take you to the - the - the location.”

“Steve, I’m not fucking going -“

“Yes, you are.” He says sternly. Like you’re a child.

“I’m not going anywhere without you!”

And he know this was coming - this cyclical argument you’ve been having for the last three weeks, your tears, the lump in his throat, uncertainly fogging both of your vision. But it doesn’t make it any easier, any less frustrating.

He says your name low and quiet. A plea. “This is safe. This is where the - the - the people I know told me to send you. That it’s the safest place.”

“And we’re trusting those people now?”

“No. W-well, yes! It - it’s - just - trust me, not them. Okay?” He settles your suitcase on the couch and starts moving around your living room for things he knows you’ll need. A blanket. Medicine. “Anywhere away from here is better, anyway.”

“So you admit it isn’t safe?”

Steve sniffles. “I never said it was.”

You follow him to your bedroom where he begins ripping clothes from your closet. He doesn’t miss the hoodie he leant you a few months ago. It’s laid on top of your suitcase with more shirts and pants.

You grab his arm and try to force it to fall back to his side, but he’s too strong, god damn him. “Steve, quit!” you beg, digging your heels into the ground and tugging on him. “I’m not leaving, Steve. I’m not going unless you go with me.”

“We talked about this.”

As nauseam, in fact. Until the ache in Steve’s throat was excruciating. Until your voice was hoarse and you were heaving. He’s not leaving, and you are.

You tug on him again. “I’ll keep talking about it until you listen to me!”

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps moving back and forth between your closet and the suitcase. You cry, as hard as you try not to. You really are like a petulant child, stomping your foot, throwing a tantrum. You feel like it’s the only way he’ll listen, but you know the reality is that he still won’t.

“What about me?” you cry. You’re so angry at him, want to say something that’ll make him hurt. That’ll change the expression on his stoic face. You find it in you to refrain. “What about us, Steve?”

Keeps packing. Head down. Jaw clenched tight. He was ready for this fight when he walked in.

“Steve, let the goddamn military handle it. Do - do you honestly think you’re going to save the world?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer because you already know why. Because he can’t leave Dustin, and Dustin can’t leave El, because apparently she can save the world. And Robin won’t leave Steve who won’t leave Dustin who won’t leave El. And Nancy fucking Wheeler won’t leave Mike who won’t leave El.

It makes you feel insane. Your blood boils and spills over, and over, and over, and it never just depletes. You keep going, keep arguing, trying to talk him out of it until your voice is hoarse. It’s hoarse now, in fact. Last night Steve held you until you shut up, until you cried yourself to sleep, and you had no idea he had already got you a plane ticket out of here. You feel so betrayed it makes your stomach twist and chest ache.

“I can’t live without you,” you try. It’s the third time you’ve pulled this and it seems to get him the most. “Steve, I don’t know what I’d do if - if….”

Steve bites his cheek, stilling, his hands clutching one of your sweaters.

“Why don’t you care?” you push.

He sniffles again, pinches his nose. You’d prefer it if he’d just let himself cry. He’d give in, then, if he let his emotions take over.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Jesus, yes,” he grits, finally looking at you. His eyes are red. “Why do you think I’m makin’ you leave, huh? Why do you think I’m staying?”

“Because you think you’re something you’re not!”

He runs a big hand through his hair so harshly you fear it’ll get tugged out. He walks towards you, holding his arms out, murmuring, “honey,” and as much as it pains you, you back away.

“Don’t,” you say sharply. Your throat aches. “Don’t do that, Steve.”

“I love you.” He sounds exhausted. “I love you, please believe me.”

“If you love me, then come with me.”

“There won’t be a world for us to live in unless we stop this.”

“You aren’t going to save the world.” You’re so desperate for him to listen to you. “The chances are so slim, Steve. Why can’t we love each other while we have time?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I won’t let you die without doing something about it first.”

You stare at each other. It’s suddenly dawning on you that nothing you’ll do will ever change his mind. That his chances of living through the next few days are slim. That this is the last time you’ll get to see him. While he’s packing for you and forcing you to take a plane to California.

There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies you rented from Family Video when Steve had a shift. Before he was yours. When you went because the forest green vest looked so good on him, and he always had some goofy recommendation, and he let his hands touch yours when giving you your change for a moment too long.

You’ve hardly even had him.

“So that’s it?” You can hardly hear yourself.

“I’m doing this for you. I’m doing everything for you. And - and i-if it works, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear, angel.”

You shake your head, hot tears making their way down your jaw. “No.”

He stills. Looks a little like a deer in headlights. Caught off guard, shocked. Mouth parting slightly before closing again, like he wants to argue but can’t.

What is there to say?

“If you make me get on that plane, Steve….” You shake your head again, swallowing the ache in your throat down.

You stare at each other again. His eyes are one of your favorite things about him. Those saccharine, chestnut and moss colored irises. They scrunch up when he laughs. You used to think about leaving Hawkins and moving somewhere nice, so far away from all of this that Steve grows up to have crows feet around his eyes. That you’d be the one who put them there. And this is the last time you’ll see them.

“You have to go,” he eventually sniffles.

“Please,” you try, for the final time.

He blinks slowly, frowning, chest rising and falling slowly. “I love you,” he whispers. “Please believe me.”

You’re not sure if you can.

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Hiya!

Love your works, 5 Stars!

Anyway I noticed you did a few Retro!Readers where they are in a Poly with both Vox and Valentino. I loved reading how protective Vox is to the point he'd rather Retro forget seeing him kill for them.

So my ask is in the Poly situation, what happens when Valentino is caught murdering someone who flirted with Retro by Retro? Unlike Vox he can't make Retro forget after all.

If you don't wanna do anything along those lines could you maybe do something else with the three of them, like Vox having to pick Retro up from the Porn Studio. (retro would be taking Val's backup glasses then get mad at what they see i bet)

Thanks!

“Don’t you dare insult mi pequeño querida ever again,” Valentino growled, looming over one of his workers. They were bloodied and bruised, beaten up, what little clothes they had been wearing were torn and frayed. “First you try to fuck them, then you’re making fun of their beautiful little ears? Asqueroso.”

I knocked hesitantly on the room he was in. “Valentino?” I asked, opening the door slightly. “Someone said you’d be in here, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just-”

He didn’t notice me. “Keep your desperate hands to yourself, bitch,” Valentino said to the worker, raising his hand to strike them again. “Or I’ll-”

“Val?” I asked, now standing in the middle of the doorway, the door ajar, light from the hallway spilling in. “What are you…?”

“Oh! Oh shit,” he said, snapping his attention towards me. “Fuck! You weren’t meant to- fuck, just look away for a moment, mi cariño.” He walked over and spun me around so I’d be facing away from the sight before me.

“Val! Hey, what are you doing?” I protested, trying to look back at the terrified worker. “Are they okay? Do they need help?”

“No! No, I was just teaching them a little lesson was all,” he said quickly, trying to steer me away from the room. “Clean yourself up,” he hissed to the worker, walking me out the door with me in tow. “Fuck. It’s normal, okay? They just needed to be put in their place. God, you weren’t- you weren’t supposed to see that.” He muttered under his breath, covering my eyes as he brought me to his office. “Vox was right, I shouldn’t have brought you here…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said quietly, nervously. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” I was still trying to process what I’d just seen. All I could register was that someone was hurt, he was worried, and that I wasn’t supposed to be there.

“No it’s not, mi amorosa,” he said quietly. He sat me down and paced nervously around the room. He picked up the phone several times, before setting it down. “Fuck.”

“Val, seriously,” I said softly. I stood up and took his hand in mine. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful… I don’t- I don’t know what you were-”

“That’s it!” Val said, snapping his fingers. He seemed to relax. He kept his hand in mine and brought me to his desk. “It’ll be okay, my love, I promise.”

“Promise? Promise what?” I asked, confused. He set me in his lap and held me carefully, gently. I watched as he took out a cigarette and I sighed, thinking he was just going to stress smoke again. “Val, you know I don’t have… I’ve not built up a tolerance to it like Vox or Vel, I’ll need to leave if you start.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said with a smile, lighting it up. “Trust me, darling.”

“But-” my protest was cut off as he kissed me. I relented and kissed him back. When he pulled away, I felt so much more… relaxed. “Hm…?”

“That’s right, just relax,” he purred. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly in my face. I couldn’t help but breathe it in. Sickly sweet, like honey, utterly overwhelming.

“Mm..” I mumbled, my body relaxing completely. My mind was all hazy, I couldn’t think straight. It felt so nice, so good. I found myself leaning closer to him, wanting to get as much as possible every time he blew another cloud of smoke towards me. He held me tightly, firmly, so I wouldn’t fall. “I love you…”

He chuckled as I buried my head against his chest, wanting to be near him more than usual. “I love you too,” he said, petting my head gently. All the worry and confusion I’d been feeling seemed to melt away, and as the smoke kept coming, I couldn’t help but begin to feel tired. It felt so nice, so comfortable. So good to be near him, breathing it in.

As my eyes fell shut, Val smiled, excited. It had worked! I was fast asleep against him, drugged out of my mind. I wouldn’t remember a thing. He was so goddamn proud of himself. He scooped me up, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as he carried me outside.

Vox pulled up outside the porn studio to see Valentino holding me. I was limp in his arms like a ragdoll. Vox opened the door and stepped out, slamming the car door shut behind him as he approached. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked Val, his anger evident as he reached for me.

“Relax, I just used my smoke,” Val replied, rolling his eyes. He gave me to Vox, if not reluctantly. “I know you said not to use it, but-”

“Your smoke?” Vox asked, horrified. “Oh my god, they’re out cold! Fuck! How much did you- oh my god are they dead?”

“No! No, fuck- Christ, calm the fuck down, mi cariño,” Valentino said, now a tad annoyed. “They’re a sea bunny demon, they’ll be fine. Any harmful side effects or toxins or whatever are just stored in their system for later use. All my smoke did was make them nice and relaxed.”

“What?” Vox asked. He paused, looking down at me. He thought for a moment. “And you’re sure? They aren’t hurt or anything?”

“Not at all,” Val said with a grin, looking pleased with himself. “Though, I’d appreciate some back up next time. I’ll need you on speed dial if they catch me again. I hate doing this to them…”

“I know,” Vox said with a nod. He opened the car door for the passenger seat and motioned for Val to get in. He did, and Vox set me down next to him, buckling me in. Val made me lean against him, as if I was just sleeping comfortably. “I’ll be there next time.”

“The look on their face…” Val said, sounding guilty as he looked away. He seemed uncomfortable with what he’d done, with how vulnerable he’d made me so easily. “God…”

“I know, Val,” he said softly. He gave him a small kiss, then got in the drivers seat. He sighed and started the car. “I know.”

(Val was going to kill the worker, he was just taking it slow. Now Vox will get dibs on them, since he’s the one who owns Retros soul. He’ll argue that Val already had his chance and fucked it up, so it’s only reasonable that Vox gets a try. Also! Retro can get endlessly drunk but it’ll never have a negative or lasting impact on their health and liver and whatnot. At least that’s how I imagine it.)