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sporadicbeans82 · 1 month

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Playing Games || Misa Rodríguez

Request: “Misa.; 'Aww, is something wrong?'; Make it spicy plz.”

Warnings: Smutty, swearing, grinding, enemies to lovers with a bit of queer pining to top it all off (hehe, top... which the Reader is not, get it?)

Word count: 4.2k words

A/N: So sorry, I accidentally deleted the request! I loved writing this and got a little carried away. I hope that this is alright! Please feel free to send anymore requests as I've got no idea what to write next, preferably little prompts so that I can get back into writing :)

The pressure and frustration was mounting with every second that ticked by. You’d been forced to practice penalties and had been doing so for the last half hour. With each penalty that went by, you yearned to cry out to the world that you quit football and were going to become an accountant.

The majority of your balls sank into the net as they were supposed to. However, the only shots you could pay attention to were the ones that sailed just wide of the goalposts, or clanged against metal in a way that had you cringing. Even worse, when the goalkeeper who you despised would save them, getting up from the save to gloat with a smirk that you wanted oh-so-badly to smack off of her incredibly attractive, self-righteous face.

��Oh are you fucking kidding me?!” You couldn’t help but cry out as the Real Madrid Keeper dove to the correct side, both hands outstretched to block the ball. You sighed, arms falling down at your sides as Misa stood back up, smirking at you.

You fucking hated that smirk. So much. The other girl made even the simple act of rolling the ball back towards you to kick again look cocky.

Usually, you would have been able to keep your comments to yourself. However, the specific events that had led up to you practicing more penalty kicks than you could have counted had already aggravated you. You’d been the only one to miss your penalty in your last match, causing your team to lose.

You’d been devastated, and so had your teammates. Of course, everyone knew that the game was won as a team, but that didn’t make it any easier when you were the final decision maker. It had all fallen onto you, and when the pressure had mounted, you had failed. You’d since been condemned to practicing penalties until you could make a certain amount without having them all blocked by Misa.

You’d been at it for what felt like hours, kicking the ball again and again at the net. The cursed goalkeeper herself was having one hell of a time blocking your shots at one moment and teasing you in the next. It was hot and your nerves felt like they were melting beneath your skin.

You were pissed off, but managed to muffle your words so that you didn’t shout your insults into the skies for all to hear.

Instead, you murmured to yourself, hoping the way you grumbled wouldn’t be heard by the rest of your teammates, the majority of whom did not speak the language well enough to translate your quiet, quick complaints.

It would have worked, had you not had a certain Australian right behind you.

“What was that, Stripes?” You heard Hailey Raso say, and froze before you turned around slowly.

You knew Raso wasn’t keen on keeping your secret, the glimmer in her eye one of utter fuckery as she smiled a little bit. “Would you like to share with the group? Secrets, secrets are no fun…”

Raso chastised, speaking louder than normal and catching the attention of the particular goalkeeper who you’d just called some choice names beneath your breath. Misa cocked her head to the side, and you tried arduously not to blush at the sudden attention on you.

“Why did we stop?” Misa called out to the two of you, her gaze solely on you despite addressing both you and Raso. She was stepping closer, almost pushing the point where she was too close for comfort.

Not that you were uncomfortable, but it was hard to remain professional when the girl who’d been a pain in your ass for the month that you’d been in Madrid was standing so close and looking, admittedly… very attractive. You hated to admit it, but even at her most frustrating you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to slap Misa or kiss her.

In your distraction, you didn’t notice that your teammates were waiting for you to speak. Raso smirked again, watching as you stared dazedly at Misa, quite obviously zoned out. Misa cocked her head to the side again, mouth curving a little bit as she observed you.

The entirety of the Real Madrid team could see the tension between you and Misa, although they weren’t quite sure what it was…

Your first match with the team, several months ago, had been the first time you’d argued with Misa. Your team had won, but it had been very close with a team that you should have blown out of the water. You shouldn’t have been tied with one point each going into three minutes of injury time. You should have been up by four goals, and one of those goals should have been your own.

You hadn’t been able to score, despite your many attempts at goal. Your failure to complete what you’d been brought on the team to do had made you frustrated.

After the game, in the locker room, Misa had made some comment about how you should have scored at least once. It was stupid, and meant as a joke. The team had won, and that was all that mattered. Perhaps, you would have laughed it off, if the game hadn’t been so close and it hadn’t been your first one with the team. Your expectations had been high of yourself, and your failure to meet them had you feeling incredibly angry.

The comment had been poorly timed, brought up in the heat of the moment. Misa was like that, sometimes rough around the edges– blunt and funny. She thought that you would laugh off the joke, but you hadn’t. Misa hadn’t expected you to take it quite as you had.

You’d pushed her in the chest with both hands, speaking loudly and strongly– almost so fast that she lost the meaning to your angry sentences. She did, however, manage to catch one sentence in particular– “Me?! Me– I should have scored? Maybe you should have fucking saved a ball, yeah?”

You’d been tugged away by another recent transfer in Hayley Raso, while Misa had been comforted by Olga Carmona. Your teammates had hoped that that would be the end of your issues with each other, but it had only been the beginning.

Since that day, you and Misa had quick, fiery arguments at least once or twice a day. Once in a while, it would turn to full-blown shouting matches, although the two of you never physically pushed the other again.

It wasn’t professional, and you were fully aware of that. In fact, you were pretty sure you were due for a dressing down sometime soon for your behaviors, but you couldn’t just… not argue with Misa. When she said something, you had to oppose it– Misa would go left, and you would go right. Misa could say that the day was cold, and you’d argue that it was warm (and it was! You were from The United States, for fuck’s sake. Spain had nothing on the temperatures there!)

You two had been at odds with each other for so long that a regular relationship felt… unattainable, now. Besides, Misa was… very gorgeous when she was angry. Her cheeks would get red, and her face would pout while her muscles flexed, her entire body put into the words she would shout at you.

Maybe you argued with her because it was the only way you knew to get her attention, but that's besides the point.

You were brought back to the present as Raso spoke for you, seemingly egging you on with her accented words, “Oh, Stripes just had a few… choice words for you, Misa.”

Stripes. Your nickname, usually one that drove you crazy, as it came from the fact that you were the only American on the team. It wasn’t even that creative, but the name was, admittedly, growing on you. Besides, there were worse things to be called, namely some of the things that came from Misa’s mouth.

Raso seemed to trail off, and you finally managed to break away from the goalkeeper’s intense gaze to glare at the Australian. Raso just grinned, but your gaze was broken once again as someone reached out and placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

Misa had noticed how angry you’d been getting throughout the training session. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was much of the reason for your frustration, having been antagonizing you for the better part of the penalties you’d been taking. Your lips were puckered into a frown and your eyes were narrowed at the Spanish goalkeeper. Unable to contain herself, Misa gave you a wolfish grin.

“Aww, is something wrong?” She knew full well that something was the matter. Her accented voice lilting over the words in a way that she knew would piss you off. “Qué dijiste? What did you say? Secrets… are not fun.”

Misa couldn’t help it, prodding at you further as you practically melted under the feeling of her hand on your shoulder. You didn’t know why the contact had set you off, and perhaps it was because you wanted to let off the steam that you’d been holding onto ever since your last match.

You slapped Misa's hand harshly, admittedly probably a little harder than you’d actually intended as the noise seemed to echo in your ears. Misa hissed, taking her hand off of you immediately and stepping back, calling you a choice name of her own.

“¿Por que? What is your problem conmigo?” Misa assaulted you with a battering of broken English, and you were able to fill in the blanks quite well with your own spatter of broken Spanish. Honestly, your arguments may have been even more effective than the lessons you had to take three times a week with a trained specialist.

“Contigo? My problem? No. La pregunta es ‘what the fuck is your problem conmigo’, Misa. I don’t remember ever having done anything to you, and yet all you can do is shout and grunt and be rude all the damn time. It’s a wonder anybody on this team likes you when all you do is complain about our performances 24/7!”

You were mocking her, now, stepping forward into the girl’s personal space until you were nearly chest to chest. Despite having to look up at the woman, you weren’t intimidated. You’d always been somewhat of a spitfire, acquiring a number of yellow cards on the field for dissent. You weren’t afraid to make your opinions known, and to be loud about them, as it was how you were raised.

Misa didn’t back up from your challenge. Instead, she seemed to step into it, glaring down at you as she barked at you in rapid fire Spanish. You only understood the swear words, as they were the ones that you’d been taught by a very cheeky Linda Caicedo only a day after you’d met her.

The good thing about knowing these swear words, however, was that you could throw them right back at the Spanish goalkeeper.

Soon enough, the two of you were shouting at each other even more. As always, most of Misa’s words were lost somewhere in translation. It didn’t matter, though. Her tone and the way at which she gestured her arms up and down, the exasperated and harsh expression on her face conveying so much more than words ever could.

You told yourself, at least, that you didn’t care. You didn’t notice the way that her brown eyes narrowed. You pretended like you weren’t watching her hands struggling to free themselves of her keeper’s gloves as she continued to shout at you, pressing ever closer to the point where your chests were brushing.

You pretended like the heat rising to your face was out of anger, not out of… something else.

You raised your hands to shove her away, but she didn’t bat an eye, once again stepping into the physical challenge. She barely stumbled, pressing back at you.

“Cuál es tu problema?! Joder-” You knew this one, and shoved at her again. You knew that this entire thing was incredibly immature, that your teammates were observing possibly the most ferocious and childish fight that the two of you had had since you’d signed for the team.

But you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to care. You were pissed off beyond comprehension, the long standing feud between you and the goalkeeper seemingly having pushed you far past your normal amount of anger. On top of that, you were hot and sweaty from being forced to kick penalties because you’d failed and you’d failed so badly that it had cost your team the match.

Misa was screaming at you, and you could hear someone blowing their whistle, and you presumed it was a coach or someone on the training staff. However, before someone could wrap their arms around your upper arms and tug you away from the argument, you were spinning around.

Incredibly overwhelmed, you sprinted away from the scene with a cry of frustration. Before anybody could stop you, you were making your way towards the locker rooms, almost beyond the point of needing a break.

You were gone before Misa could finish her next sentence. The keeper hesitated, taking a look around, before she made a move to run after you.

“Misa- espera.” She heard one of her teammates say, their voice whispering past her ear. However, she was suddenly hellbent on continuing this conversation with you.

Sure, she was angry, but there was something more than that. She’d seen the exhaustion in your shoulders, and the way that you’d pushed at her in all the ways that you’d learned in the last few months on the team to get a reaction out of Misa. She noticed, and she wanted to know what you wanted from her.

She didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. Well, that wasn’t true. She did, and she specifically remembered her comment that had set you off. She hadn’t meant anything bad, had simply been trying to cheer you up in a way that would cheer her up. Only, you’d reacted… badly, and the two of you had seemed to be at odds ever since.

She’d long given up any hope she had of being friends with you, or anything more that she’d hoped for when she’d first set eyes on you. She remembered the day that you’d walked into practice, somewhat meek beneath the eyes of all of your new teammates.

You hadn’t spoken a lick of Spanish, save for some of the swear words which Linda had apparently taught you the second that she could. She’d fallen in love with the passion you’d shown the moment you’d stepped onto the pitch, determined to win in every aspect of your game.

It was a passion akin to her own, and you had rekindled the flames within Misa that she’d thought she’d lost long ago. She’d suddenly felt rejuvenated, like her team at Real Madrid had a sincere chance of winning something for once. You could knock goals past the goalkeeper faster than they could knock goals past Misa, and all Misa needed to do was block those goals.

She knew she was in love, but she also knew that she’d given up the right to love you the second that she’d made you upset after that first game.

Misa couldn’t allow herself to watch you walk away from her now, though. She had to make sure that you were okay, at the very least, or to apologize. Despite having given up hope, she still felt like… she stood a chance of being acquaintances with you, if nothing else.

Misa opened the door to the locker room, but was unable to catch a glimpse of your familiar figure anywhere. She peeked into the showers, and found that you weren’t there, either.

That is, until she heard something fall. She turned, and saw you standing by the sinks. You were hidden in the shadows, and Misa had been so distracted with finding you that she’d… missed you.

You were glaring daggers at you, so much so that Misa feared that she’d be dead if looks could kill.

“What… are you doing here?” Your voice was equally as hostile as your gaze, and Misa almost flinched with the intensity of your tone.

“Yo?” Misa asked, and you nodded. You made a gesture with both hands for her to continue to explain, as if her very presence was a pain in your ass. Which it was.

“Yes, you. Que… fuck!” Misa made a move towards you, as if to try to calm you down.

You were obviously frustrated– with Misa and your inability to communicate in the same language. You pushed your arm out, though, catching the palm of your hand on Misa’s firm stomach. “Sí. What. The fuck. Are you doing. Here?”

You found it hard to speak, the words spewing out between clenched teeth. It was difficult to concentrate with the girls’ abdominal muscles pressing against the skin of your hand, and your mind wandered. Only briefly, you pondered how it would feel without her jersey to cover the soft skin there.

Misa frowned, shaking her head, “Necesitamos hablar. We need to talk.”

You tilted your head, as if to ask her to continue, and Misa began.

“No… I don’t know where I went wrong. I never meant to offend you, I was- I tried to cheer you up.” For a second, you paused. It took a moment for you to catch up with her words, realizing that she was apologizing for what she’d said after the first match.

Having always been feisty and unapologetic, especially on the field. It was something which had originally drawn you to her, before you’d even arrived in Madrid. You hadn’t even known that Misa had the ability to apologize.

However, the way in which Misa was looking at you, and the way that she was speaking more English than you’d ever heard her try to let you know that she was being sincere.

A tide of emotions seemed to flood your chest. The metaphorical butterflies which everyone back at home had always seemed to talk about were fluttering away in your stomach. You swore you felt your heartbeat throbbing in your ears, so loud that you thought Misa could hear it.

These feelings… the ones that seemed to only be reserved for the Spanish goalkeeper in front of you. You’d tried so, so hard to ignore how you’d felt in favor of holding a grudge. Never before had you thought that you’d regret that decision, but as the girl took a deep breath and her stomach pressed against your palm.

If you’d have been any less worked up from the penalties you’d had to take, and the argument you’d had with Misa. If you hadn’t been harboring conflicting feelings for months for the girl who stood pressed oh-so-deliciously against your hand. Maybe, you wouldn’t have even considered what you wanted to do. Instead, your hand ran up her stomach, wrapping itself into the front of her jersey and tugging her towards you.

You remembered the way Misa hadn’t even moved when you’d shoved her earlier, but now she shuffled forward willingly, pressing against you. You were sandwiched between her and the wall, and while you’d hated her being in your space earlier… Now? You had to stand on your tiptoes, your other hand going to cup at the nape of her neck as your lips hovered just inches away from the goalkeepers. You hesitated, still unsure if Misa really wanted to kiss you, disbelieving that the hatred she’d felt towards you could go away in just a few moments.

However, Misa held no such hesitations.

Her lips were gentle against yours and your eyes fluttered closed. The kiss was soft in all the right ways, impossibly so when you contrasted it with Misa’s normally rough exterior.

A relieved sigh fell from your lips and into her mouth as you finally felt her against you. You moved against each other, your head tilting to the side as her lips caught your top lip between her own.

Her lips were soft… almost pillowy against your own. The press of her lips against yours was sensual in ways that you’d only ever dreamed of. Your heart was racing, excited and aroused and still, admittedly, a little frustrated. Only, this time you were frustrated with yourself for not doing this sooner.

The feeling of your back pushed harshly against the wall behind you, tiles cold through the fabric which covered your torso. However, Misa’s warm body against your front sent chills down your spine.

Your hand which had once been wrapped in the material of the girl’s jersey wandered, slowly drifting beneath the hem of her shirt in the way which you’d wondered about earlier.

You traced the muscular lines of her abdomen with your fingers, and you felt Misa push against you harder. You heard her gasp as your lips parted momentarily, the sound music to your ears as a curse fell past her lips as well. The girl was out of breath, pressing even further against you.

One of her legs slid between your own, separating your legs with one of her strong thighs and you gasped at the sudden contact there.

Misa took that moment to take control of the kiss even further, one of her hands settling against the wall which you were pressed against. The other hand wandered just as yours did, playing with the hem of your shirt until you took your hand out from her shirt, trying to take her hand in your own to encourage her to just touch you.

You would have let her do anything to you right then and there, sensing that Misa may do just that with the way her hands fell down to your hips. They were strong against you, large hands encouraging you to grind against the flexed leg which stood firm between your thighs.

You allowed a moan to fall between your parted lips, one which was swallowed by Misa as she continued to kiss you. She was incredibly intoxicating in ways which you were convinced couldn’t be described by words– English or Spanish. Or Catalan, for that matter.

You allowed another moan to tumble from your lips, this one higher pitched and almost… desperately winy. You were prepared to take off your shirt, your fingers curling beneath the fabric and beginning to pull upwards.

Although the two of you froze as you heard the telltale sign of your teammates coming. You heard cleats clashing harshly against concrete, coming ever closer to you and Misa in the locker room.

“Fuck!” You cursed, the word echoed by Misa as the both of you frantically separated. Misa quickly pushed your shirt back down to its original position as you rushed to do the same to her. You quickly tugged her ponytail from her head, realizing that you’d mussed up her hair to an irreversible extent before you were shoving her towards one of the shower stalls.

“You stink!” You joked, and Misa smirked at you, trying to tug you with her, “Ah! Ah no, no. I don’t think so. We’ll be caught!”

You were whispering now, and Misa seemed to think better of her needs as she frowned at you. You simply raised an eyebrow at her, and Misa sighed as she shook her head.

“Vale, pero… we are not done. Tonight, are you free?” You nodded, unable to contain your smile. “My house will be… empty.”

“No it won’t.” You promised, and you watched Misa struggle to figure out what you were saying before she, too, started grinning like a fool. Then, before your teammates had the chance to walk in on the two of you actually interacting with each other, you shut the curtain closed and spun away.

Hayley and a few others were there, and Hayley grinned at you.

“Did you two kiss and make up?” Hayley joked, and you choked. Her brows furrowed, now, and you laughed a little bit to cover up the fact that you hadn’t realized that she’d been joking.

“No, she just went to shower.” You excused Misa, and something in Raso’s eyes told you that she knew that something was up. However, she didn’t push you as you walked past her, grabbing your own things to shower as you realized training was over.

Faintly, you registered that the others were talking, and they could have been talking to you. However, you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to actually listen, too consumed with the thoughts of tonight and all of the possibilities that it held.

#misa rodriguez x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso one shot #harper writes

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oh-nostalgiaa · 6 months

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#diego luna #whom I like a NORMAL AMOUNT #hello gorgeous #my happy place #YET ANOTHER FUCKING THING THAT I DID NOT ASK FOR #MY LOVE!!!#te amo y mas

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mamayan · 8 months

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★彡BRAT TAMER☆彡

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

TW: Soft Dom! Gyomei • Fem! Reader • Brat Taming • Spanking • Punishment • Creampie • Breeding Kink • Dom/Sub dynamics • Belly Bulge • Fluff • Gyomei says a naughty word🫢

Happy birthday Gyomei Himejima♥️

This is Gyomei so it’s fluffy, but I’m planning to write a Dabi Brat Tamer fic… and make it less fluffy ;)

Your husband is always so patient.

His poignant attitude allowed hardly any irritation to be sent your way.

Instead, he felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry you felt like acting out all day. Whatever had gotten you in a such a rotten and irritable mood, he desperately wanted to eliminate it. His sweet darling wife, whom he holds close to his heart and prays for only peace and happiness. Yes, his small and adorable spouse, has been nothing but an immature brat from the rising of the sun to the setting of it. Since the birds began their morning harmony, you’d felt the need to push and pick at his enormous generosity and patience.

He felt sorry for you.

Yet his sorrow would not amount to how sorry you were going to be if you didn’t stop.

He knew he’d just returned from a terribly long mission away from you. He was aware the loneliness had built up while he was away, and you were only releasing the frustration you were forced to hold onto in his absence. This entire week he’s been home, your actions spoke of nothing but defiance and a forced hierarchy shift in your shared household.

You’ve continuously interrupted his prayer and meditation time.

“Mei, I need this done.” Your chores mindless and seemingly made up each and every time, like shifting a statue in the garden because it wasn’t attracting the birds you adored anymore… even though it was in spring which they returned.

You’ve denied all attempts at intimacy, and Gyomei is not a man who would ever pressure for anything sexual in nature, but he misses your sweet lips and soft figure in his arms. Even just holding his hand, whispering shared words of love, or basking in one another’s company has been rejected. You’re busy, as you’ve put it.

Yet desperately needy when he turns his attention elsewhere after rejection.

“My love, if I have dissatisfied you, I must know how I might amend this.”

“Gyomei… you haven’t, I’m fine.”

Yes.

He’s your ever patient and adoring husband.

His breaking point is surprisingly small and simple. His tears for once not flowing, but instead a few veins bulging from his skin in raw and prominent anger.

He’s your ever patient and adoring husband, until you do something foolish and hurt yourself. Your childishness and stubborn attitude of “I can do it myself”has you falling and nearly breaking your ankle. Attempting to reach a rafter on your own despite his size to help a regular visiting old cat down. The yowling elderly feline completely blind and often finding itself in need of rescue. He wasn’t entirely sure how you managed to get up there alone, likely some even more dangerous assembly of household items stacked for your journey up there. If he was not blind and had seen it, his fury might’ve even been more terrifying.

It was your sweet cooing, something he’s been deprived of, to the feline which caught his attention initially. It was the choked gasp which he’d heard from his meditation spot outside which had him moving. Despite all he was as a man, a proud Hashira, and your husband, he failed to catch you.

Your pain filled yelp and following tears enough to shatter his heart.

True to your attitude this week, your big watery eyes looked up at him, melting him, before your words dropped a bucket of ice water over everything.

“This is your fault! …sniff…”

Annoyance overwhelmed him. He only chanted lowly Namu Amidabutsu while carrying you off to be checked by a doctor. Your whines and sniffles normally invoking his own tears, but he’s silent and calm as he takes you away.

The doctor tells you to be more careful and stay off the foot as much as possible for the next few days. Nothing was broken, just a sprain and some swelling. Comfort would normally be the first thing you’d seek, your husband’s wide and pillowy chest perfect to burrow into and complain.

It’s a quiet few following days, as you heal and hobble around. So quiet, it becomes evident your world is off. Your patient, kind, and benevolent husband… is like an ice wall. Stoic, chanting from morning till night, praying, training, and then ignoring you. Quite literally ignoring you too, standing as if he can’t hear you despite having some of the best hearing of anyone you know. He avoids all contact with you, it’s as if you’re air and don’t exist. You think it a challenge, who can outlast the other in this Cold War, but it was never a battle you’d succeed in. No, despite your best and brattiest attempts, despite trying to seduce him, despite becoming furious and yelling at him… you lost. Your tears falling first, your heart crumbling, and your anxiety winning.

It’s late that evening, and your husband is out meditating under the moon. Looking serene and beautiful while you internally crumble as you move towards him. He knows you’re there, his hums and low chants not stopping even as your fall to your knees.

“Mei…” your weak and wobbly voice does nothing.

“Gyomei…” again, it’s as if you aren’t there at all.

“…I’m sorry…hck…please I’m sorry… I was wrong.” Tears fell like rain drops from your eyes and down your cheeks, dripping from your chin to your clenched hands in your lap. You really were sorry. “I don’t know why I- please, I’m sorry my love, please talk to me… I’ll do anything—”

“Anything?” You hadn’t realized he’d stopped chanting, his attention, and sweet focus on you for the first time in days.

“Y-yes! My love I—” he raised a palm to silence you.

“Go to our room. I want you naked on the floor when I come in.”

“…?” You’re dumbfounded, unsure if you even heard him correctly. Except Gyomei is standing, his full height even more intimidating as you flounder to stand back up. He’s wordlessly walking away, not in the direction of your shared bedroom, but smartly you choose to follow his orders instead of following him. His wide and impressive back getting smaller in the distance as you hurry along to complete the task at hand.

It’s somewhat cool in the room, and for the last several days Gyomei hasn’t slept in the space with you at all. The bed wasn’t made, not like you’d normally do, and for once you bit your lip and quickly tidied it despite him not even being able to see it. It helped calm your racing heart though, as you begin slipping from your robes, shivering as your bare skin comes in contact with the chilled air. You weren’t sure what else to do after that, instead just sitting on the floor and waiting.

Wait you did, nearly half an hour. Shivering and continuously debating between wrapping yourself in a blanket or not. He’d hear the rustling of fabric though, and you didn’t want to risk him thinking you disobeyed. Just as the internal war was nearly won, you heard familiar firm footsteps approaching. As Gyomei slid the door open, his head dipping to allow him into the space without knocking his face. He wasn’t empty handed though, and you noticed something that had the blood draining from your face.

It was a thin but sturdy looking branch, all protruding smaller leaves and branches removed. It was a switch, likely from the wisteria tree in your garden.

The door slid closed, and your husband’s face revealed nothing to you as you tried to reason with yourself that this wasn’t happening.

Except it apparently was. Gyomei bypassed you sitting on the floor, moving to take up a spot on your shared bed, legs spread wide but the branch remaining in his had had your heart rate picking up. His tone left no room for arguments.

“Come here.”

While Gyomei certainly wasn’t inclined towards corporal punishment, he also couldn’t think of a more simple method. Ignoring you wasn’t that healthy. Forgiving and forgetting wasn’t an option either, your behavior having become self destructive.

“Lay on your stomach here,” he pats his right thigh, “and lay your face here,” he’s got a pillow beside him which he taps. He can feel your trembling as you climb on the bed, but he’s proud you’re listening so well for him. “Good girl.” He punctuates his praise by gently petting down your hair, letting you settle into position, forced to stick your ass higher and feel your own arousal slightly cool on your thighs. You’re trembling in fear yes, but there’s something else in your gut that has you shaking too.

“My love… m’sorry please, c-can we talk?” You know what’s going to happen, it’s fairly obvious, but a small part of you wants to beg your way out of it. If you can just sound scared enough, seem meek and cute enough, then maybe….

“Hii!” Your yelp is accompanied by the swish and slap of the switch hitting your bare ass.

“Namu Amidabutsu….” He’s murmuring now as a few tears slide down his cheeks, but as you jolt and attempt to get up because of the sting, a big palm is forcing you back down. Pinning you to his thigh as another strike lands and has you wailing. It’s a miserable sound, your little whines and cries pitiful and truly sounding sorry, but Gyomei is murmuring each offense he’s had to lock in his heart for every tiny lash against your soft doughy ass and thighs.

“hurting yourself…” “Mei! I’m sorry!”

“telling me I’m annoying…” “Sorry!”

“going to bed without me…” “p-please..”

“brushing me off…” “hck!”

“ignoring me…” “…sniff…”

“not saying you love me back…” only your pathetic whimpers are offered in consolation. The last offense even hurting you, because you don’t know why you did it, where it all came from. You just know you’re sobbing uncontrollably now. The pain on your bottom already fading, only some red lines detailing where he’d punished you. It didn’t matter, the flood gates had been opened, and you were a mess as you begged for forgiveness.

Even as your lower belly burned in heat and arousal. It was an odd combination, the release of such emotion and rush of pleasure from the strange intimacy of it all.

You jolt in surprise as his large palm softly passes over your sore and sensitive ass, the caress nearly consoling as you let yourself slowly relax.

“Mei…”

“Shh… you did so good my love. Thank you for being obedient.”

He let his other hand go free, throwing the switch far off. Cooing and gently patting down your hair. He seemed to melt into your sweet protective husband again. Except the hand that was so softly tracing your ass dipped lower, eliciting a moan as Gyomei allowed his thick finger to swipe over your drenched entrance.

“Crying here too…?” His tone is slightly teasing, but you can’t retort back as the rough and calloused digit rubs your clit with the arousal which leaked out of you now. Swirling and pressing even as your hips shake and wiggle and you moan into the blankets. The hand on your head tightens, so minutely you don’t notice until your face is unburied and your moans are forced to echo through the room. It’s not until he wiggles his finger into your tight cunt that you really feel like melting. Your whole body on fire as Gyomei slowly and nearly torturously slides in and out of you, rubbing around your gooey slick heat.

“Oh fuck Mei, please.” Your mewling in pleasure now, trying to arch your back further in his lap and buck your hips back into his hand. Fingers digging into the blankets and twisting the fabric as he adds another finger to your drooling hole.

“You really don’t deserve a reward.” You aren’t listening to him, not at all, as he finger fucks you. The sounds in the room becoming erotic, the wet squelching of your walls sucking in his fingers filthy. You’re closer than you’d ever been with him only mildly playing with you, absolutely teetering on the edges of an orgasm. Your body shaking, perspiration dotting your skin, as you wantonly cried out for your husband as you nearly reach your peak—

“No!” He slides his fingers out at the last moment. “Why’d you stop?” Your distress palpable as one hand reaches back to try and grab his wrist, to bring it back to your soaked pussy where you need it.

Instead you feel two wet fingers pressing against your lips until you open, his fingers invading your mouth now, to taste yourself and what could’ve been your release. His skin is rough even against your tongue, playing and teasing the muscle in your mouth as you begin to suck and lick.

“Good girl…” the praise goes right back to your neglected orgasm, your hips wiggling and body trying to push up. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with an audible pop, and you can barely see from the corner of your eye Gyomei lick the very same fingers he’d used on your cunt and mouth. You groan in arousal and frustration, but are smart enough to keep your comments to yourself.

“Do you wish to cum love?” You’ve never answered faster in your life.

“Yes! Please darling, I want to cum for you.”

His expression isn’t right, though his cheeks are flushed and breathing slightly heavy, he seems mildly amused.

“Then you’re going to work for it.”

Confused but not turned off by this dominant side of your husband, you agree softly, letting him move you so you’re sitting in his lap now. Legs spread and thighs hugging his waist.

His warm breath, the scent of sandalwood and wisteria clinging to his robes and skin, leaves you aching inside. He leans down, at firstly only lightly brushing his lips over yours before finally kissing you. The kiss turns deeper and more passionate by the second, Gyomei’s normally cautious and devote attitude towards you waning. He’s much rougher instead as your fingers sink into his clothing, his thick tongue sliding into your mouth and devouring you. His deep and vocal groan have you shaking again, this time in pure and carnal need for him.

You’re quick to try and remove his clothing, pawing clumsily while he still maintains his composure and slowly fulfills your silent request in stripping so you can feel his chest and body. Only able to receive at this moment and not take, mindlessly grinding against your husband’s still covered body.

Gyomei’s hands roam you, normally his favorite pass time just feeling and seeing you in his own way. Taking you in for all that you are. He’s not looking at you right now though, not as a hand cups your breast to roll and pinch your poor nipple before switching to the other for the same treatment. He’s not looking now, as he anchors your greedy movements and limits your range of motion with an arm around your waist. He’s feeling you, feeling your passion, and controlling it so skillfully it’s leaving you reeling and in a completely new space.

Once Gyomei is satisfied with your swollen wet lips, his own matching with a devastating smirk, he lifts you entirely up with one arm to yank and pull off any clothing preventing him from sinking his thick throbbing cock inside you.

“Gyomei oh!” He’s never fucked you with so little prep before, normally pulling at least two orgasms from your body before entering you… but entering like this—

“Tight—,” he hissed as the tip slides into your opening, splitting your pussy open and making room for each inch, “—relax my love.” Gyomei is cruel, impaling you on his enormous rod as you struggle to even breath right now. Choking on air as you try to relax, try to allow him inside you without tensing up and feeling even fuller if it were possible. A whimper escapes from Gyomei’s grit teeth, as he struggles to let gravity sink you down instead of his own strength stuffing you full. “Feels so good love, doing so well for me,” he grunts as he feels your walls pulse and flutter around him, milking his shaft as he mutters a few calming chants to keep himself from being too rough with you. Your moans and whimpers soon swallowed by another wet hot kiss, tongues dancing as you cry into Gyomei’s mouth when his tip pushes in enough that you feel a dull ache up inside you.

If you looked down, you’d see his thick cock protruding just a little from inside you. This position sinking him deep, your breathing ragged and uneven as you dig your nails into his biceps to ground yourself.

Your husband is not merciful tonight, the welts on your ass burning a bit from the hairs on his thighs and the position you’re in rubbing. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of being so full leaves you struggling to focus. Your hips trying to grind and move, to attach yourself close to Gyomei and rub your clit just enough on his pelvis to help you finish.

His hands halt you.

“Bounce.” With that command, he’s leaning back, shifting his cock further up inside you. “Oh hmn!” You try to scramble off a little, “S’too deep!”Gyomei lifts you a little, kind enough not to go too far yet with you, your pussy needing time to fully adjust and take him. On his back, he’s like a work of art laid out for you, scars adorning his skin like brush strokes of life. His muscles taunt as he breathes deeply, keeping still and letting you set the pace.

You start slow, the heavy drag of his cock in your walls actually taking leg work to pull up from. Your greedy cunt wrapped tightly around him and refusing to let go, but the pleasure increases along with your slick, allowing for an easier glide soon. Your body bounces, balls of your feet digging into the bed for stability as your thighs quake and you struggle to maintain composure. Your cries and Gyomei’s deep moans and breathless grunts have that tightness returning. Gyomei has a familiar itch in his chest as he listens and feels, desperate to look at you and see you come apart, but his hands can only move to cup your cheeks. Fingers caressing and moving over your face to feel you, the tears still drying and the wetness on your lips he left.

He can’t help the way his hips buck, fucking up into you. “Always taking me so well my love, just made for my cock.” He’s panting, loving how your little hands scramble on his skin to clutch onto him for purchase. “You don’t need to think anymore, do you?” He’s driven wild by your senseless babbling and noises, the sounds of skin slapping as you try to match his erratic thrusts, the feeling of your combined fluids beginning to make you both sticky. The way you smell, your soft natural musk making his mouth water and thighs clench. He’s slightly disappointed not having fucked your hole first with his tongue, so he could gather the taste of you on his lips before he’d slid his cock inside you.

“Oh,” you feel like a rag doll, Gyomei’s hands roaming your face and body so sweet compared to the way he was bullying his tip against your cervix. Driving you further into a mindless whore, desperate for the orgasm you seem to keep being denied. It hurt but it felt too good for you to ask for a break, a deep trust still built between you both, and if you begged him to to stop he would. You were so close, just on the edge, and every moment you’d almost shatter is the time Gyomei would thrust. Breaking your concentration and starting you all over.

Your thighs are aching from the strain of exertion, your movements slowing down, sweat sliding down your body and making it harder to grip on to Gyomei.

You were getting tired, your release so close. “Husband, my love, p-please, please I need to cum.” You sound broken, voice hoarse from all of your crying and moaning. “I can’t do it anymore, I need you, need you please darling.” Gyomei has always adored the sound of your voice, but he adores this voice of yours probably the most.

“Since you’ve asked nicely.” Your world spins, before you feel yourself enveloped in the softness of your bed, your husband now looming over you and covering you completely. His lips capture yours, moaning into the kiss as he easily spreads your legs, one thigh encouraged to wrap around his waist while he holds the other up. He’s sliding in much easier now, the squelch of your pussy nearly drown out by your cry of pleasure. Each inch filling you up once more, but now you’re not in control. Gyomei’s thrusts are deep and heavy no matter how gentle he attempts to be. Your body jolting with his movements, even as he begins slowly.

��I’m going to make you cum my love, shh, you’re fine, breathe,” he’s speeding up, your eyes rolling back as you feel your limits nearing dangerously close with your orgasm, “Keep taking me just like this.” His husky tone is debauched as he moans your name, his muscles taunt as he worked his tip into a familiar spot inside you which he knows drives you wild.

“Mei, oh please, yes, I-I’m g-gonna—“ it’s a wonder if he’s showing mercy when he begins to fully fuck his entire length into you or not. Either way, the cord inside you finally snaps, a silent cry on your lips as your back arches off the mattress. Gyomei is quick to shift, dropping your thigh in favor of gripping your ass and angling your hips higher for himself to pave a new path inside of you with his cock. Your spasming cunt creaming around him doesn’t slow his pace, seemingly intent on fucking you stupid now. You’re used like a toy now, too weak to fully contribute more than your sounds of ecstasy and nail marks in his forearms or chest where you can reach.

“That’s it love, just let me use you now. You don’t need to do anything else but take it.” His words are mixed with desperate grunts and even something akin to a growl deep in his chest.

“Please s’too- ngh” Your soft body is pliant in his hold, which Gyomei is happy to fold up. Your pussy finally stretched enough to accommodate all of his length and girth without the pain which has you whining and scrambling away from him.

“Can’t—no—,” even as the words leave your lips, you’re wracked again by another climax as Gyomei rubs your swollen clit with his thumb. The gentle rolling motions juxtaposed to his rough drilling inside your gummy walls.

“Do you want me to—hah—fill you up?” His skin is soaked in sweat like yours, rolling down his muscles and creating nearly a dreamy state from the heat you both radiated in the cool room.

You didn’t even think about before you started begging.

“Yes Mei, fill me please, need— oh fuck—“ He’s pressed so close to you, his weight nearly a burden until thankfully he uses a free hand to keep himself up as his dick throbs and twitches inside you. Each hot rope of cum filling you up, space limited with Gyomei inside, leading it to spill out the sides and down his heavy balls. His hips still, panting above you while his pleasure and orgasm wash over him.

“So lovely.” He murmurs as he pulls out, your legs going limp as Gyomei’s cum leaks out of your body with the absence of his cock to keep you plugged. A kiss to your forehead and cheeks, then your neck and chest, and down your stomach has your twitching.

It’s not until you feel his lips on your inner thigh that you realize what he’s doing.

“I already came twice…” your little unspoken plea not convincing enough.

“Then cum again my love.” His wide flat tongue begins boldly on your slit. Lapping up his own cum leaking out of you as well as your own. His muffled moan against you has your hands twisting into his hair, tugging for more or less unclear as you writhe. Strong licks are soon accompanied by two fingers, intent on prodding and stretching you out more. The wet spot beneath you growing bigger by the minute as Gyomei passionately eats your pussy. Your scent and his was a delirious combination that has his length hardening again, rutting against the soft sheets and blankets you’ve both sullied. When your thighs twitch and close around his face, he doubles his efforts, lightly sucking on your clit while flicking it with the tip of tongue, fingers curling and fucking you perfectly until you shatter again.

The pressure of his fingers in that spot leaving your body no choice as you squirt, soaking his lower face and body. His smile blocked by your twitching and crying figure, your head thrown back as you try to push his face away, his fingers still move inside you.

You can’t even speak anymore, mindlessly moaning even as tears flow down your cheeks.

Finally he gives reprieve, removing his hand and only softly licking up your release, not attempting to further arouse you.

You lay panting, unfocused and tired red rimmed eyes staring at your completely recovered husband. His dick hard, the heavy weight of it not allowing it to stand at full attention, gravity pulling it down.

A bad feeling entered your gut.

You listened to it this time. Flipping onto your stomach, you’re quick to make an eecape from under him. Just as your legs drag up to let you get off the bed, Gyomei’s hand is around an ankle. Tugging you back with a laugh not suitable for the situation, nearly mocking.

“My love, I didn’t say we were done. Where are you going?” He’s speaking and moving at the same time, a hand on your hip pulling you up onto all fours as his tip finds your messy entrance.

A strange warbled noise leaves your throat when he shoves the entire thing inside in one go. Instantly filling you and leaving you no room to move or breathe as the room spins.

Gyomei isn’t any better off. Your tight pussy overstimulating him, your body beneath his hands making him lose focus. He wants to fuck you harder, be rougher, let you see how much he’s been holding back this entire time.

He’s not gentle. His pace brutal from the start, one hand on your hip to keep you up, and another wrapped around you belly. Feeling the tip of his cock through you with each thrust, his moans mingling with your broken cries. Your face in the blankets, hands clutching onto the fabric for comfort as your husband claims you in a way he’s never done before.

You don’t want it to stop. Even as you feel like you’re losing your sanity, as your thighs and ass burn from your punishment, the literal force of his body against yours too much. You want him to break you, leave you nothing but a mess for his pleasure for once.

“Ngh, do you like this love? See how much I hold back for—ah—you?” He’s hardly thrusting as he is yanking you back onto his cock, your limp body easily sliding on and off.

“Should I keep you like this all night?” He knows you can’t answer, you can hardly cry out anymore.

“I’ve missed you my love, missed your sweet words, your love and sincerity, and your body.” It’s a very romantic and Gyomei like confession, but your fucked out brain registers nothing anymore, still too focused on the orgasm you’re going to have again.

“Are you lonely my dear? Should I make sure you’re with child come morning?” He’s taken back by how badly that scenario arouses him. Would it help you feel less stressed while he was away to not be alone? To have children love and help care for you with him?

He’s pounding you, your drenched face rubbing against the sheets as you’re dragged back and forth like a doll. Mouth open and drooling as you cum again, this time followed by Gyomei who nearly shouts as his orgasm hits. His own body shaking and trembling from the force of pleasure bleeding into his system.

You’re wrapped in strong arms and rolled to your side, Gyomei’s semi-hard cock still nestled inside you with his cum as his lips find whatever available skin he can kiss.

“I love you my dearest, thank you for being mine… was I too rough with you?” Gyomei waits a while for an answer that does not come, until he realizes you’re completely passed out. Limp and exhausted, you must’ve lost consciousness on your last orgasm.

Chuckling, he’s kind enough to clean you up, change the sheets to dry ones, and cuddle up with in your shared bed. His breathing quick to even out with yours, holding you in his arms.

Come morning, there’s plenty of time to talk as you lay bed ridden, your patient and dutiful husband happy to care for you. The conversation leading to deeper understand between one another, and a realization to your behavior and feelings being linked with stress and anxiety.

While you feel comforted and sure to take good care of your husband in the future, you do take note of what acting out gets you.

#Gyomei Himejima #Gyomei smut #Gyomei x reader #Gyomei x fem! reader #Gyomei x y/n #18+#mdni #happy birthday Gyomei #kny smut #kny #kny Gyomei #belly bulge #brat taming #soft! dom Gyomei #he says naughty words

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sugaryplum · 6 months

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broken ankles and middle names

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader summary: after a silly accident involving the hogwarts' infuriating moving stairs, you're found by a certain quiet boy (whom you not-so-secretly adore). warnings: no good exposition whatsoever, language mistakes, chaotic+flirty reader i want to be her!!! notes: this is part of a bigger story that i will probably never finish writing, let alone publish, so if it seems completely out of context, that's why. this is also the first thing on this tumblr blog and the first written thing i'm ever showing to tumblr besides poetry!!🤭 i hope you like it 🤍 let me know

“what on earth happened to you?”

the situation is silly and absurd, so you laugh, despite the sharp pain that almost makes your eyes water. theo is kneeling beside you with a confused expression on his face, looking from your swollen ankle to your face.

“can you help me to the hospital wing? i can’t walk.”

all you have to do is look at him and he carefully picks you up from the cold floor. you put your arms around his neck for support. “i was walking up the stairs. and then the stairs moved. and then i fell. you know, i’m glad you’re here, there’s not a single soul on the corridors at this time of day, i was just going to get some books, i have free period–”

“you should watch where you’re walking.” his voice sounds like honey and if you weren’t basically laying in his arms right now, your knees would definitely go weak. but you act unbothered. “maybe i should’ve. but then you wouldn’t carry me. maybe this is a win after all.”

“you’re infuriating.” the small smile that cracks on his face doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when you can see his lips from up close.

“infuriating is my middle name.” there’s a lot of things you can see from up close. his eyelashes are long and he has more freckles than you thought. you like how the ends of his hair twist and fall on his forehead.

“annoying.”

“middle name.”

“stop with the middle names.”

after no more than a minute of silence you speak up again. “you’re so quiet.”

“you think so?” a normal person who doesn’t talk to theodore on the daily basis, probably wouldn’t be able to tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. but you are not a normal person. you pay way too much attention.

you come up with a response and giggle before you even get the chance to say it. “you could say that quiet is your middle nam–”

“if i dropped you right now, i bet you'd be whining like crazy.”

“there’s no need to test that.” you hold on to his neck a little tighter. “besides, you’re lucky i’m not whining right now. i’m in enormous amounts of pain.”

“i can tell. your ankle is twice its normal size.”

“you seem to know my ankles pretty well.” theo chuckles more audibly at your words and your heart flutters.

“that's my secret. i've been staring at them since fifth year.”

you gasp, pretending to be shocked. “i never knew my ankles were so desirable! now you got me worried, that fall might’ve been a threat to my beauty…”

“oh, very much so. you're lucky you had me there to carry you and take care of you in such a tragic moment.”

you never thought hogwarts' insanely big castle was exactly convenient. you’re constantly late for classes, walking takes up half of your daily life and you never know what is creeping around the corner. but now, when you’re being carried through it by the boy you like so much, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise?

“how far away is that wing?” you ask in a whiny tone just to get this attention, but in your mind and in your heart you thank merlin for the long corridors.

“don't you dare even start to complain now, after i carried you all this way.”

“i’m not complaining about you, i’m complaining about the castle. although i’m sure i could find some complaints about you…”

“oh?” he looks at you, slightly amused. “go ahead, do your worst.”

“well, for starters, you make weird comments about my ankles.”

“your ankles are my favorite thing about you.”

“that’s an insult.”

“you’re an insult.”

“MIDDLE NAME.”

he sighs and he calls you insufferable and you smile. you can expect the hospital wing right around the corner, but you wouldn’t mind staying in the pretty boy’s arms for a little longer.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x fem!reader #theo nott fluff

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confessedlyfannish · 6 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

#sam:#bruce:#bruce: so i was thinking brainwashing-#sam: ghost puberty #bruce: frick #sam give-my-boyfriend-the-talk manson #at some point when danny went from teen hero to the eldritch being of our fanfic dreams he had to start experiencing the “becoming”#i imagine that was actually pretty terrifying #his whole family calling it ghost puberty is probably actually really kind and appreciated #hey i'm starting to forget to breathe and sometimes i want to bite things #aw honey it's ok your body is chaaanging #you're teeeething #baby's first feral chomp #sometimes i hear the universe it is a symphony i cannot explain but if i listen too long i fear it shall sweep me away forever #let's get you some airpods with the latest paramore album #that helping?#yes actually ty #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #batman #sam manson #danny fenton #danny phantom #my writing

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the-writing-goblin · 7 months

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I am once again thinking about how good the story of the second age is, and all the fun things you could do with an actually decent adaptation. Consider:

Galadriel should be exactly the same as she is in Lord of the Rings. She is older, weirder and more powerful than any elf other elf in Middle Earth. Other elves are just as unnerved by her as mortals, and dealing with her is stressful at the best of times.

Elrond should be an absolute infant. Just, complete baby face. But everyone treats him super respectfully and he has a lot of power and influence. The energy should be the same as when the super ancient and powerful vampire or faerie or whatever looks like a ten year old girl.

ALSO there should be a tall, menacing elf with visible tattoo and facial scars who just. Stands behind Elrond looking intimidating all the time. The least elf-looking elf ever. All the other elves are uncomfortable around them. Elrond should treat them like their an Aunt or Uncle. The elf is one of the few surviving hard-line Feanorians, all of whom follow Elrond. The longer you can go without explaining this, the better.

Gil-Galad is very tired, and spends a lot of time balancing one of the most famously unstable political systems in all of Arda. Galadriel and Elrond both have factions they support to strongly to be relied on to be impartial. The reason he doesn't worry much about what Celebrimbor's up to is that he's the one member of the family who is highly unlikely to attempt something batshit nuts, and his followers are mostly moderate.

Celebrimbor and Annatar/Sauron should spend the whole series playing complicated mindgames with each other.

Annatar is playing four-dimensional chess from the beginning. For him, this is an all or nothing gamble. If he can't make the rings he won't have the power to seize control on his own. He should spend a lot of time having Light Yagami-level monologues where he tries to figure out what game Celebrimbor is playing while outwardly pretending to be harmless and normal and only succeeding at this about 75% of the time.

Celebrimbor should start of thinking the stakes are considerably lower. Like... is Annatar hiding something? Yea, but he figures Annatar doesn't actually have permission from the Valar to be here or something. Not, ya know, Annatar is secretly Satan in disguise. In the first act there should be an almost comical disconnect between the amount of energy Sauron is putting in to these mind games versus Celebrimbor.

Bonus points if as Celebrimbor figures out the truth, you intersperse more and more of his family backstory. The guilt he is still carrying for a lot the things that happened in the first age. Early on bring in the fact that Finrod went into Sauron's jaws alone and it was Curufin's fault, use this as angst material. And then as he figures out who Sauron really is, drop Maedhros and Thangorodrim in like a nuclear bomb.

Because Celebrimbor has seen this play before, and he knows what Sauron does to people. It wasn't even personal then, what Sauron is going to do to him will be so much worse.

And Celebrimbor chooses to forge the three rings anyway. He doesn't give up their locations, even with everything Sauron does to him at the end. And that should be devestating.

#silmarillion #rings of power #kinda #sort of the opposite of rings of power #celebrimbor #annatar #elrond #gil galad #wild tonal shifts in this post #oh well #I think this story should have wild tonal shifts tbh #I am unwell about these elves #lotr

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bones4thecats · 8 months

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Housewardens x Younger Sibling! Reader

A/N: Sorry that this took so long to write, but I do hops this ended up very good!!

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❤️ Riddle grew up with a over-controlling mother, so it's safe, or rather, unsafe to say you also grew up with your mother's rage being quite literally directed at you two.

❤️ His angry issues were quite an interesting match when it came to you being around. If you were to also have a few anger issues, when you two were bickering, as siblings normally do, every single Heartslabyul member would steer clear of you, knowing if Riddle's rage is scary, lord knows how two would be.

❤️ Now, he may be a pain in your ass when it comes to handling the rules, but Riddle does have a sweet side, and your one of the small amount of people who have got to seen this.

❤️ While yes, Riddle may seem like someone who would let you get away with anything, like breaking the rules for example, he's just as strict on you as he is with Ace and Deuce. But after his overblot incident, he was more lenient with you and the others.

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🦁 You two were the oddballs of the Kingscholar family growing up. Being overshadowed by Falena wasn't easy, and watching your other brother, Leona, just descent into this arrogant and prideful shell of what he used to be.

🦁 Leona may be lazy and seems like he would be a terrible older brother, this beastman does care for his family, and while many don't see it, as he never allows his true emotions to surface, instead hiding them behind a rough exterior, he does show you a soft side once and a while.

🦁 If you shared his sleepiness and therefore ability to sleep nearly anywhere, he'd have you skip classes (if you went to NRC) with him and rest in the botanical garden.

🦁 This guy's overblot did effect you in a few ways, and if he did harm you by accident during the magical issue, he immediately rushed to assist you, even if he was injured himself, you were his younger sibling, and he always put you first, at certain times.

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🐙 The head of Mostro Lounge is seen to care for his family, at some degrees. So it wouldn't be surprising of you guys were very close to one another.

🐙 Azul and you have been by each others sides ever since you came into the world. He valued you more than anything else in the world, because you understood him, far more than anyone ever could.

🐙 You had been there for him growing up, which means you would defend him from bullies, and you were there the first day he met the Tweels, who you were close friends with.

🐙 If you attended NRC alongside him, you guys were rarely ever seen without the other far away, or having one of the twins with you.

🐙 He may get busy with handling his dorm and on-campus cafe, but believe me when I say this, he cares about you and would do anything, and I mean anything to ensure you happiness and your comfort. You were his little sibling, and he wanted you to feel happy.

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☀️ As one of the many Al-Asim kids, you were held in high regard compared to other children. But nobody could compare to the height of Kalim's pedestal for you.

☀️ This little ball of sunshine adored you so much growing up, you two weren't far in age growing up, since you also shared having many younger siblings. He loved you so much that he was with you near constantly.

☀️ Because of your closeness, you met everyone that he met, including Jamil, whom you were fairly close with, almost as close as Kalim! But while it may all seemed like sunshine and rainbows, Kalim was very sought-out for money, so you were as well, albeit possibly more.

☀️ He may seem very happy-go-lucky, but Kalim does have a line drawn in the sand, and that line starts right before potential harm to those he cares for. So when anybody tries to hurt you, Kalim and Jamil normally appear and begin to scare the shit out of the person who tried harming you.

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👑 You're a slay. Period.

👑 Vil and you were raised in the spotlight because of your father's profession, and as Schoenheits, you were expected to be beautiful and very regal, which, of course, you were.

👑 If Vil learned it, you learned it. Whether it was poison making, magic styles, or really anything else, you were at the same level as him, because he didn't like leaving you behind.

👑 He may be quite vain at times, but with you, it all goes away. You've seen him at his worsts, and because of this, he wasn't afraid of you seeing him break down, getting mad, you get the gist.

👑 If you attended NRC, you both would be the most beautiful siblings to exist there, gaining the nickname 'The Fairest Siblings', obviously after Rook (once deciphered from French)

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🎮 *Insert war flashbacks*

🎮 Idia has a hard time connecting with anyone outside of his family and fellow gamers. But it got even harder after the 'incident' with Ortho years back.

🎮 You and him were close when it came to certain things. Like you two shared your love for technology, and even worked on building Ortho's mechanical form, along with the physiological side of his new form.

🎮 After his overblot incident, you two did grow closer, now with your younger brother alongside your once again. And when you guys were on the Isle of Woe watching over S.T.Y.X., you proved to calm him down in the more anxiety-inducing parts.

🎮 He's quite emotionally delicate at times, which can prove difficult when you and Ortho want him to do something with you. Idia tries to be there for you in every situation, but you gotta remember, baby steps.

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🐉 This one is by far the most interesting to write.

🐉 Malleus was isolated his whole life, so he didn't get to experience anything important throughout the world and Briar Valley. And because of this, you were also isolated alongside your older brother.

🐉 He is hailed as one of the most powerful mages throughout all of Twisted Wonderland, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were to make it into NRC with him.

🐉 This heir is quite protective of you, like any brother and dragon would be of family. But he doesn't nearly come close to isolating you or putting you into a tower along to keep you safe and with him as many may think.

🐉 Malleus does enjoy quite a lot of things, like studying gargoyles. Because of his interests, you joined him in the club, and learn about each piece of artwork throughout the building known as Night Raven College.

🐉 Lilia teases you guys a lot, saying you were the scariest yet sweetest siblings he's ever seen throughout hid lifetime. Your brother only chuckles and pardons your shared guardian, saying that you may seen sweet but looks can be decieving.

🐉 Btw, Malleus is extremely protective, and with your shared surname, whoever tries harming you, gets immediate treatment of a war criminal

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zer05trange · 3 months

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Roaring Sea

000. Prologue

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: When Ajax stumbles across a humble bakery with his brother, he has no idea the new fight he'll have to win. Because though the Fatui Harbinger explored the waters of many nations and many different conflicts, he knew nothing about the dangerous sea of relationships.

⋆｡°✩wc: 2.1k

⋆｡°✩content warnings: none for the prologue!

The premature coolness of Snezhnayan autumn is nothing to Ajax and his brother. It’s comforting, in fact. It reminds him of an older, easier time when his soul wasn't tainted by the horrors of this world. Often, Ajax thinks of what it would be like to be normal, to have a normal social life.

If his work could possibly permit it, he would've loved to meet someone with whom he could share his heart. But thanks to his plummet into the abyss, and the years he's worked for the Fatui, he doesn't have a heart that could be given to someone.

The part of his heart that hasn’t faltered is for the love of his family. And that’s why on a more lax week of work, he finds himself walking down a city street with Teucer by his side, glancing at different shops and places that interest his little brother. Their destination was one shop that his brother kept talking about, one that he needed his big brother to try out.

“Big brother! We have to go,” Ajax remembers his brother exclaiming just a few hours earlier. The young boy continued to ramble about a bakery he often frequented, with a kind, yet strong-willed owner that would never fail to make time to converse with his little brother.

Almost the entire stroll to the destination, Teucer spoke of when the owner; the time she slipped Teucer extra pastries free of charge for his other siblings, showing him how to make his favorite items on the menu, or never letting him venture out into the cold without some sort of hot drink to keep him company.

“This one’s it!” He hears Teucer pipe up, stopping in front of the row of shops. It was two stories, fitting with the rest of the line of stores. It was cute, and shockingly modern looking on the outside. He can see the soft illumination on the inside, with a sufficient amount of booths and tables for its size. Teucer goes running into the shop, leaving Ajax to catch up to his little brother.

By the time he enters the shop, Teucer is already chatting away with someone behind the counter, peering up at the woman who’s smiling down at him.

“ if you give me a few minutes, your favorite is just about done baking, and it’ll be nice and hot for you, all right?” He hears her say.

Oh, her voice is much younger and brighter than he imagined it would be. He looks up at her, and she was not what he thought she’d look like as well. Young, sophisticated, and positively gorgeous . He straightens up his posture a bit before walking toward the counter.

“Good evening,” She says, “You look a little like someone I know.”

“Y/N, that’s my big brother! The one that got me that toy I showed you a few days ago!” Teucer responds, jumping up and down with his hands on the counter.

Y/N. Fitting, Ajax thinks.

“I have heard about you. The toy maker, yes?” You turn to him and he nods, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Tartaglia,” He says in return, “You have a lovely bakery, and the food here looks delicious!”

You laugh, and Tartaglia feels his smile widen ever so slightly as his chest tightens up. He thinks he may be dying.

“Thank you, pick whatever you’d like, please,” You say back to him.

Though you were expecting Teucer to come into your bakery, since he hadn’t been in a few days, you were not expecting to see his striking, tall, and slightly intimidating brother.

This Tartaglia was an odd one. From what you’ve heard from him he seemed to be a caring, loving, and attentive brother. But you struggled to find a spark in his eyes, and that sent a chill down your spine.

He’s donning an oxblood colored long sleeve button up and white pants, and you don’t fail to miss the hydro vision on his waistband either. He has the same deep gingered hair, blue eyes, and freckles that his brother has. However, he’s very tall and muscular, with a sharp facial structure adorned with a pretty-boy face. You’d make a bet that he’s nothing but trouble.

His overall energy is intense, ominous, and foreboding. But he's friendly to you, at least, and his body language was a little more than friendly, but you shrug it off. It’s not every day that a handsome customer takes an interest in you.

The two brothers found their seats a few minutes ago, so you go back to preparing other baked goods and taking care of the few customers who are also in your store. However, you don’t fail to miss the glances Tartaglia keeps making at you.

He looked awfully familiar, and not just because he was the brother of your most loyal customer, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why he was so recognizable. You hear Teucer call your name and you perk your head up to see the little boy calling you over. No one was ordering, so you come from the confines of your counter and over to their booth. Walking over to their area, you see Tartaglia’s eyes go straight from your face, to your hip. You glance down for a moment, wondering what in Tevyat he could be looking at.

Ah, you think, as your own eyes find the soft glow of your vision. But you shrug that off, you already saw his vision that resides on his waist.

“Yes, Teucer?” You say as you look down at the younger boy.

“Did you put something new in your frosting?” He asks, with his eyebrow cocked up.

“I did, actually. I added more sugar as an experiment. Do you like it?” You respond, stunned at how he would’ve figured that out, especially because it was such a miniscule amount of sugar.

“I really do,” He says as he takes another forkful into his mouth.

“Ms. Y/N,” you hear the other brother, “Are those moon pies?” He points to your display case.

“They are. I try to have a little something from each of the nations, it’s a good source for variety,” You respond as you look back at your assortments of goods, most of which were taken by earlier customers.

“And you make all of those?” He asks. You nod your head, letting out a quaint ‘mhm’ with a proud look on your face.

“Well what I’ve had is delicious so far, I need to come back to you and try everything!” He exclaims, beaming up at you with a wide smile and a wink.

You chuckle awkwardly before a couple walks into your store, unknowingly becoming your saving grace. You rush behind the counter, feeling his eyes burning into your back as you walk away from him. As you serve the two customers their order, you notice how the two were looking at each other lovingly and how the man pulled out the chair just for the woman to sit down. The way the two treated each other pulled at your heartstrings, though a normal reaction when one witnessed romance, there was a tinge of jealousy behind the feeling as well.

Sure, you thought about entering the terrifying world of relationships, but you're way too focused on your blossoming business to have yet another stressor on you. But, more often than you’d like, you imagine what it would be like for someone to sweep you off of your feet, to spend time with, and battle the cold of the nation by being bundled up together. You always reason with your thoughts, because it is simply not the wisest thing to do, no matter how bitter the lovey-dovey couples make you.

You bring yourself back to the present, the couple already left, as have many other customers. It’s getting later in the evening, and you look over at the remaining two customers that reside in their booth. A small smile makes its way to your face when you see how engaged Tartaglia is in his brother’s rambling. It wasn’t often that you saw siblings this close, even in a nation where family is treasured.

The two look over at you as you finish cleaning up for the night, their mugs empty and their saucers clear, except for a few crumbs. You call them over to your display case, and they follow suit.

“Pick whatever you’d like,” You sternly demand of them, “They either go to me or my dog, so take however much you want. Maybe some for your other siblings?”

Teucer’s eyes brighten as he frantically starts studying the case, pointing out a multitude of sweets before you can even reach for the tongs. The entire time, Tartaglia switches his eyes from his brother to you, both in admiration.

You can feel his intimidating gaze and although he's never spoken to you until today, he's taken a liking to you. His energy toward you has been… interesting, to say the least, in the few hours you've known him. But surely it’s completely harmless, and you doubt that any of his weirdly flirty intentions were something he was going to take seriously.

So why not just let it happen?

“It’s getting dark, Teucer. let's get on our way so Ms. Y/N can get home,” Tartaglia says while his eyes stay focused on your face, a sly smile pulled on his lips.

“Oh it’s no big deal, my house isn’t too far away,” You point to above the shop, where you reside upstairs, “I’m much more worried about you two getting home before you freeze.”

Tartaglia laughs at that, causing you to look to the side awkwardly. Did you say something that hilarious? You brush it off and hand the two their large bag of assortments.

“Get home safe, you two,” you say as the two prepare to leave the bakery, “I can’t have my favorite customer and his older brother frozen to death!”

As they leave, Tartaglia turns around and waves to you with a wink, making you scoff and roll your eyes as you walk toward the door as well. You lock it behind you, and switch the OPEN sign to CLOSED. You watch the two walk off, Teucer still chattering on and on as they disappear down the city.

Walking over to their booth to clean it up, a velvety blue bag catches your eye. It must be a mora pouch, next to a napkin with wording on it.

You have to teach me how you make such an excellent apple cake! I’ll be back soon, Лапушка.

P.S. Thank you for treating Teucer the way you do.

—Tartaglia ;)

You scoff and roll your eyes, yet again, this time without him there to see your reaction. What is this guy’s deal? You open the pouch and almost drop it, shocked at what is inside. It has to be thousands of mora, too much to be considered a tip. If this is how he’s trying to harmlessly flirt with you, it’s not working too well. Instead, it freaks you out as to what to do with it. A customer shouldn’t be tipping that much, you think, so you plan on returning it whenever he comes next as he promised.

You eventually finish cleaning up and rush upstairs to your apartment, much like most nights. But tonight, your cheeks feel more heat in them than usual.

As Ajax walks his brother home, his mind fills with more emotion than he's felt in a long time. The fact that you could bring out a little crush within him stunned him. In all his travels, even his life before his corruption, he never felt anything romantic for anyone.

Why was he yearning to see more of you, though he just met you? Was it the way you took such care for his brother, your kind attitude, though you were slightly austere to his dumb advances? Was it the vision, the sigil that proves you’re a warrior? Or was it your beautiful eyes, your skin, your hair, your lips, your—

No. A Fatui Harbinger should not become weak in the knees for one person. One person he just met an hour ago? Absolutely not. His job called for his time, his body, and his everything. And he doesn’t have the time to become so attached to anyone.

Though maybe, a microscopic part of his mind was scared. Scared of having feelings for anyone.

Because though the Fatui Harbinger explored the waters of many nations and many different conflicts, he knew nothing about the roaring sea of relationships.

⋆｡°✩translation: Лапушка— sweetheart, darling

⋆｡°✩a/n: thank you so much for reading! this work is already fully--written so updates should be every few days or weekly!

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