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dcxdpdabbles · 10 days

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Could you write something where Danny is a teen dad to de aged Ellie? Bonus points if he lives in Crimr Alley and beats the Joker to a pulp for hurting his kid

Danny is trying his best.

It's not easy being a father at age sixteen. It's not easy having to leave his home in fear of what his parents will do to his clone-turned-daughter.

It's not easy watching her every day, wondering if her core will break down further, and instead of just de-aging this time, she'll end up dead. It's not easy worrying about her health in the most crime-infested city with a terrible job and relying on his pitiful check or the funds his sister can sneak to him.

But nothing good in this world is easy, and he wouldn't trade Dani for anything. Yes, she had lost her memories and acted like a real two-year-old, but he adored watching her eyes light up as she relearned the world.

Danny loved her to bits, and even buying her those cheap coloring books and crayons from the dollar store made Dani smile brighter than any star. They may struggle to pay rent and bills or buy food, but Danny can always scrape by, keeping her warm, fed, and house.

He worked at three different dinners, each part-time, since none of them were legally allowed to hire him full-time because of his age. Danny didn't have a single day off, but he had a few hours every day with Dani, which was enough.

While he worked, he asked his next-door neighbor to watch Dani. Now, it may not be the best thing to trust a stranger with his daughter but said neighbor is a ghost and one of the friendly kind.

Danny met her when he first moved in. Apparently, her haunting was one of the reasons the rent was so cheap. She never gave him her real name, but she stayed with Dani all day and had enough ectoplasm to physically touch things. Danny could sense her intentions with his core and knew her motherly adoration for Dani was authentic.

Privately, Danny called her Three since she haunted apartment three, and she sort of looked like she stepped out of the nineteen-thirties, complete with an attractive Transatlantic accent. She was an up-and-coming radio co-host, taking a segment to read stories to housewives before being murdered in her home.

Three never said why or how it happened, but she had been haunting the apparent complex for so long; her lore was well documented among the locals.

They say one of the Waynes had killed her after learning that his wife had fancied Three. But it was never proven and it became another theory that the rich would laugh at every once in a while.

(Three's face always twisted whenever she heard the name Wayne. Her hand would always reach up for a heart-shaped locket she refused to take off even in death.)

Since most people couldn't see ghosts unless exposed to ectoplasm for enough time, the stories of her attacks on anyone trying to get close to her apartment snowballed out of control. Danny thought it was unfair how evil they made her sound. Though it's true she had a strong distaste for men, she had a soft spot for children.

Danny had just been through the wringer; he had double shifts, one stacked right after the other. One of the dinners had let two people go after they had been arrested for moving illegal substances, and Danny had to cover until they found a replacement.

A woman had yelled at him for almost thirty minutes straight about a wait time for her surprise party of fifteen. A man threw up on their counter, and to top it all off, a kid had run into him while he was carrying a tray of food, causing him to spill everything.

Thankfully, the mother was horrified and apologized profoundly, but it had been almost too much for him. So when he was sweeping up broken plates and saw Three franticly flying at him screaming about some clown, well, Danny was doing his best.

And his best was fighting things far stronger than he.

____________________________________________________________

Jim Gordon's early afternoon gets interrupted by the Joker only three minutes after he is supposed to head home for the day. After escaping from Arkham a few months ago, the clown went to the ground, and everyone was nervous about what he was planning.

Jim's team hadn't heard any whispers or had any idea what the Joker was up to, which made everything worse. Usually, when something big and wrong was going to happen, they would catch at least one thing beforehand.

That's why the sudden broadcast of the lunatic had everyone jumping out of their skins.

"Good evening, Gotham. I want to welcome you to tonight's show. It's going to be killer." Joker cackles. He has somehow hacked into almost every screen in the city, his white devilish face appearing on TVs, phones, tablets, and even roadside advertising.

His voice echoes through the city as Jim barks at his employees to trace the signal.

"Recently, I felt it necessary to remind everyone that one is never too young to have a funny bone." The Joker continues, holding up a plush toy to the camera. He waves it a little, pressing the ginning bunny as close as possible so people can see its mouth has been sewed into a sickly wide smile. "I'm sure a few of you have noticed that certain school buses never arrived home."

The blood in his veins goes cold. How many buses? Which school? What kids were they? How old? Why had they not heard of the kids not arriving until now?

There are too many questions and nowhere near enough answers. Jim hates how useless he feels playing this sick man's game.

"But not to worry! You'll see your little ones again! After being guests on my very own game show! Every thirty minutes, one lucky child will get to compete for your amusement, and if they survive, they get an extraordinary prize-!"

His words are cut short by a dark figure flinging itself at the Joker and punching him to the ground. Thank every dark cloud in the sky that the Bat was on the case.

"Basty! Have you come to play- wait. You aren't Batsy." Joker's delighted tone melts into anger as the figure straightens to a young teenage boy.

"You have my daughter. Give her back." The teen tells the clown, voice flat and cold. "Three said your goons took her from her balcony."

"My boys take a lot of people." Joker laughs hoping up a flower. With a press of his finger, the teenager is covered in Joker Vemon. Jim's heart falls as the boy stumbles back, rubbing at his eyes. Joker laughs harder until the kid picks up a chair and slams it onto his head.

There wasn't even a chuckle from the boy. Huh.

"You have my daughter. Give. Her. Back."

"Or what?" The Joker taunts, snapping his fingers. There are sounds of people moving, likely the goons. "Kill him."

The boy doesn't seem to react to the men rushing at him. Someone knocks the camera stand over, and the view of the fight is taken away as it rolls on the ground. Thankfully, it ends up pointed at a wall, where they watch the shadows of the teenager and the Joker's goons fight.

It's hard to tell who's winning, with all the shadows blending together whenever they get close, but the fact that he hasn't heard the kid drop yet means he's holding his own. Jim's eyes narrow at the wallpaper, trying to figure out why it looks so familiar.

It hits him just as a little girl phases through the wall. Yes, phases, as if walking through it like a ghost. This would make sense since -

"That's Nightowl Apparemtents!" Ricky, the new cop from Crime Alley, cries, echoing Jim's thoughts.

"It's what?" Asks Sara

"Nightowl apparements. It's the oldest place in Crime Alley and one of the most haunted. They said a lover of a Wayne was killed there. She kills anyone who tries to rent the place. They do ghost tours occasionally, but no one dares to her hallway. That wallpaper is famous because it's the only one in Gotham with the original founding families' symbols." Ricky explains, watching the little girl tilt her head and then start to flout. Everyone shivers as a second figure bleeds out of the wall behind her.

This one is much more blurry, but the faith outline of a beautiful woman covered in blood hovers behind the girl staring at the fight. She's dressed in clothes that Jim is sure was decades ago, and unlike the little girl, she makes him feel very unsafe.

The ghost of Apparement three. Barbara had gone through a paranormal phase when she was fifteen and dragged Jim to all the haunted places in Gotham. Nowhere had made him feel as uneased as Gotham's cemetery- the most haunted place- but those apartments were a close second.

The ghost spots the camera, sneering at it and Jim actually jumps back.

"Oh, gods!" Ricky shouts, turning his head away. "I'm so sorry for looking into your eyes without permission!"

"It's not a telephone! It can't hear you, Ricky!"

"That's not the point, Sara!"

"Daddy!" the little girl cries, holding up her finger. "I got an ow-ow."

At once, the sounds of combat stopped, and then the screams began. It's nothing like Jim has ever heard. He's been on the force long enough to know what a human in pain sounds like, and those sounds—well, he prays that the Joker had decided to bring in animals.

If it makes him sick to his stomach he is worried about the regular people watching.

The little girl doesn't look away, tilting her head to the side like a curious child of two would and still holding her tiny up. After a moment, Jim realizes the screaming has stopped. There is silence before Joker falls beside the girl, beaten beyond recognition.

If it weren't for his purple sit, Jim would have thought him a goon.

The little girl doesn't blink an eye as the teenager rushes to her, kicking the Joker.

"Let me the ow-ow." The teenager demands, taking her hand in his. There is a moment of tense silence as the woman's ghost louts around him with a sneer. "A papercut! You gave my daughter a papercut!"

The ghost woman screeches, rage in every part of her cry. Jim feels his heart beating out of his chest, frozen in absolute terror as she reaches down for the Joker and drags him through the floor.

The man's screams are heard even through the muffled flooring.

"Holy shit," Sara breathes, voice trembling.

"This is why no one with a brain messes with Nightowl's ghost," Ricky hisses, rubbing at his cross. "How that kid go it to attack the Joker and not him and his daughter-"

The teenager gathers the toddler into his arms, his image fading with a hiss.

"-That was a ghost. The teenager that beat the Joker to near death was a ghost." Ricky swallows. "I am never stepping foot down that street again."

Somewhere in Gotham, a woman is sweating bullets after the feed is cut by Batman, who arrives with the rest of the Bats minutes afterward.

"Say, Mom, wasn't that the boy you were yelling at today in Teddy's Diner for Uncle Ron's birthday."

The woman's eyes swing back to the TV, where the waiter's face is frozen on the screen, his green glowing eyes almost staring into her soul. "Yes.....yes it was."

"Oh crud. I think we're cursed now, Mom. Way to go."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Teen parent Danny #De-age Dani #Nightowl Apartment #Three was a Wayne lover but it was a throuple #The Waynes enemies killed her #Danny chilled her murderous rage out with his powers #Gotham is scared of ghosts now #The random Karen thinks the paranormal is coming for her and her kin

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littlemorsel56 · 3 months

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Spoilers for Poppy Playtime CH3

Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 (Updated)

Here are some of my theories.

We're playing as Richie. He cares about these kids, complaining about the environment of the work, he's a loving man with a good heart, and DogDay called him an angel. Could have been the only person who knows more about Playtime Co. but never about what is actually happening to those kids in Playcare or the fact they were tested. Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Legs, they all saw him in the background, but they never knew he was a kind man who cared about kids, only in they're view, they see him as the rest of the Playtime Co. employees who experiment on them. Miss Delight remembers him. Remember him working here and asking how is he alive. Make sense because no one else is alive in the Playtime Co. She even wanted him to leave before CatNap finds him for his own safety. Richie cares about his co-workers, his friends, and the kids, never his job. Not like the other humans. He's not like everybody. In Bijuu Mike's playthrough (I usually just watch randomly if someone finds any secrets or hidden messages in the game), he had one of the audio reversed through the edit. "Why weren't you here. You missed the event. You missed the meeting. You miss the party. You have no right to be here." Honestly, clever idea during the terrifying environment to put that secret message there. It happened, on 8/8/95, August, on a Tuesday, 11:01 Am in the morning, there was a meeting that morning before the Hour of Joy suddenly happened and Rich missed that event. Every employee was possibly there and except one survivor and that's the character we're playing. Rich possibly witnessed something before that day. He discovers the truth and instead of reporting it to the authorities or helping the kids, he stays home, not telling anyone as the guilt haunts him. He didn't know if what he saw was real or not, and probably even quit afterward that day when he found the truth, he stayed silent for 10 years, until the note told him they were still alive, only for it to be a lie. In Project Playtime, Leith Pierre (I'm putting my bet he's the real antagonist of the story who started all of this), sent survivors, or the Resource Extraction Specialists, to make more toys, knowing they were going to die when they stepped foot into that place. He's possibly even alive in that place or escaped there when it happened, continuing the project that has killed everyone, 1006, the Prototype killed everyone, and he's watching through the cameras, studying it from a safe distance. Remember the tap of the audio during the first chapter at the end of the game. "One breakthrough and I'll be back. We must forge onward in the name of science, whether those who are beneath us understand it or not."

Rich is one of those who are lower-end employees and saw something he shouldn't have seen. Rich was about to become a higher-up of the Playtime Co, a replacement that Stu offered him. Rich took it, he saw the truth, ran away, and stayed quiet.

Update Forgot about another person who could be behind this besides Leith Pierre, that would be Harley Sawyer, the doctor. Wants mascots to come alive, Playtime Co is low on money, is also a high-up employee, and could be the actual creator and the mastermind of the Prototype, Not Leith Pierre and the one who escaped (Got ahead of myself with the theories and I'm loving it. I also have several other theories about Elliot Ludwig and will probably post it later on.)

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #playtime co ex employee #project playtime

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kekaki-cupcakes · 8 months

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Hiiii! I loved ur Hermes kid!

Could I ask for a male son of Dionysus x either Leo or nico?

Sorry if I got ya wrong and don’t feel pressured or anything!

Have a lovely day!

When there isn't a lot of info in an ask I kinda have to make the reader a personality so that it isn't too bland too read so sorry to y'all that aren't like this <3

Redecoration---Nico di Angelo x Son of Dionysus

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico had been glaring at the roof of skulls for a solid ten minutes, sort of hoping the hatred in his eyes would just poof them out of existence, when someone finally showed up.

Apparently after an incident in the Aphrodite cabin, people weren’t allowed to just grab a bucket of paint and some new furniture to fuck around and find out, which was why Nico had been sent someone to help him fix the mess that was the Hades cabin.

Apart from the hundred skulls hot glue gunned to the rood, the beds were wooden coffins, the lamps were ancient looking chandeliers, and all of the walls were a dark ugly gray, like there was a serious mold problem. Now that he thought about it, the color might actually be a mold problem.

“Never fear, goth! For I am here!”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Nico took a deep breath and turned around, obsidian eyes already narrowed with dislike as he took in the taller boy trotting over. He was holding a crate in his arms, filled with color swatches and chunks of fabrics, magazines sticking out of the top.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who needs redecorating, right?” The boy asked, already letting himself into the dim cabin that smelt of rich dark chocolate for some reason. “Yeah… no offense but we have to fix this, even if you're the wrong person.”

Nico felt a sudden need to defend the atrocious carpet and bat shaped door knocker from this boy, who was wearing a maroon shirt picturing a glass of wine. “I was eight.”

“No shame here, everyone makes bad decisions.”

There didn’t seem to be any point arguing with this boy, who had already dumped the box of supplies on one of the coffin bed lids, and was staring around at the dark cabin, hands on his hips.

Nico just followed him inside, shoving his hands into the slightly ripped pockets of his aviator jacket. He peered into the cardboard box, which was promptly tipped out onto the ground. He watched with a frown as the son of Mr D sat on the carpet and began rifling through the empty notebooks and cut up magazines. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, scrapbooking? We can’t just start painting the walls yellow yet, you have to plan this stuff out, goth.” He said, as if it was obvious. Then he smirked. “You don’t like arts and crafts?”

Nico’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t let this mildly infuriating boy with surprisingly cool bracelets upstage him. “I love arts and crafts.”

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and pulled out a leather bound book containing a few stickers and a strip of torn paper where a page had been pulled out. “Are you just gonna stand there in the corner and be grumpy?... That wasn’t sarcasm, you can if you want, I was just checking.”

Nico wasn’t an asshole, of course he was going to help. Still, he had to glare at the boy for that comment. Then he sat down and opened one of the magazines, which was featuring a life sized Barbie Dream House bed frame, fluffy pillows included. He flicked the page over with a grimace.

“So, what kinda vibe are we going for?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you're sick of Dracula,” he said, waving his arms at the general doom and gloom around them. “So what aesthetic are we replacing it with?”

Nico didn’t want to admit he hadn’t planned this far into the venture, he’d really just been hoping he could repaint the walls, or maybe burn the whole thing down and start over. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Okay, well… I’m assuming you wanna keep it edgy, but seriously? A roof of skulls? You’re not a caveman. Maybe we should go with an Addams family style.” He shivered. “With less spiderwebs and disembodied hands. “

Ah, another gap in his modern education. “What’s an Addams family?”

All Nico got in return was a gaping mouth and wide eyes. “How do you not- okay, I’m making you watch the entire timeline later, but for now we need to pick a color scheme.”

Nico opened his mouth.

“Not black.”

Nico closed his mouth.

“Obviously there’ll be lots of black, but you need another color to fit with it, something dark and scary but colorful.” He pulled out a binder of color swatches, and flipped it open, skimming the pages of baby blues and lavenders. “Maybe dark green, or...”

“Red.” Nico said, peering over at the pages of ruby and scarlet. He pointed to the dark one, which had a little title below, ‘Blood red’. It was a little on brand, but it was better than ‘Crimson Tide’.

“Oooh, nice. If we keep the walls black, and pull up the black carpet, there’ll be floorboards underneath.” He started to ramble, ripping a color swatch out of the binder and gluing it into the leather bound book. He glanced around at the musty cabin.

“We can get a red rug for the middle of the cabin, and definitely new beds, but if we get Drew to refurbish the chandeliers they’ll look great. Oh, and the coffin bed frames could be a bookshelf if we get the mattress out and ask Nyssa to put some shelves in. Do you read? Because otherwise it’s sort of pointless. But so are the skulls on the roof, so…”

“You’re good at this.”

It took Nico a moment to realize what he’d just blurted, and when he did the warmth was already in his cheeks. He’d only been a little caught up in watching the son of Dionysus’s eyes sparkle as he talked, pointing to different parts of the cabin, and somehow ruined it. “I mean, you just sound like you’ve, you know, done this a lot.”

The glimmer in their eye didn’t fade, they only grinned harder. “I have. A lot. It’s fun!”

“I suppose so,” Nico said, his lips twitching, and opened another magazine. He skipped a page on clawfoot bathtubs [There was already a white one with gold trim in the bathroom]. There was a large heart shaped mirror, He ignored that too, and found a simple bedframe, painted black. He held it out gingerly. “What about this one?”

“Yes! Good job.” He said, snipping it out of the magazine quickly, and sticking it next to a picture of a glass chandelier. “If you’ve got a simple bed, we could find a zebra print blanket, they always look good with black and red, as long as you don’t have, like, leopard print.”

“I thought you’d like leopard print?”

“And I thought you’d like skulls on your roof and coffin shaped beds,” he teased, with a smug little smile. Nico rolled his eyes, and picked out a strip of dark red fabric, passing it over.

He shook some glitter from his hands, there seemed to be piles of it in the box. “It’s a little over the top, but it’s not as bad as Jason’s cabin. It’s just rock. Everywhere. And a giant statue of his father.”

“Maybe he can be my next client,” he hummed, wiping glue from his fingers onto the molding carpet beneath them. A few shards of rounded glass were taped to the pages of the scrapbook, shining in the light of the dusty stained chandeliers.

Nico wanted to object. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want the boy in front of him with glitter on his cheekbones and scissors in his hands to be cutting out pictures and teasing someone else. Instead he looked away, feeling something in his chest surge, something like fear. Fear of what, he didn’t know, but he cleared his throat and moved on.

“Don’t you have a sister too?”

The fear surged back forwards and Nico whipped around, his tone sharp. “What?”

“The roman one, I swear I saw her the other day, when Reyna visited to plan something or other.” he said casually, not seeing the pale tinge to Nico’s face. “With the overalls and the bulldog?”

“That’s Frank,” Nico said, his shoulder sinking with relief.

“No, I’m pretty sure it was Hazel, she had those light up sketchers, with the little wheels on the bottom.” He said, somehow with a moon shaped sticker on his nose as he stuck little cut out paper skulls around the four page collage.

“Frank’s the bulldog, he can turn into animals.” Nico had a strange urge to reach out and press the sticker on his nose, so instead he held his hands tightly in his lap.

“Well, is there something Hazel’d like in the cabin when she visits? Does she read?”

Nico sighed, and reached back for the magazine he discarded. He shook it open, cut outs of fluffy teddies falling into his lap. He found the page with the heart shaped bathroom mirror and ripped it out carefully. He could take a few hearts in his cabin if Hazel would like them. “This one.”

“Oh, that one's cute, Nyssa could totally make it.”

“I can ask Leo, he owes me a favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I haven't killed him yet.”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico pressed down the front of his shirt. It was a black Camp Halfblood shirt, which he’d gotten from Piper after the Aphrodite cabin had started making shirts in other colors. Apparently there were only so many outfits you could wear with orange.

Black goes with everything though, so it wasn’t a problem for him.

He made his bed [closed the lid of the coffin] and dragged the last of the furniture not nailed to the ground out onto the little deck all of the cabins had. His decking only had a few pairs of shoes and a pot of dead roses he’d never bothered to keep alive. Maybe he’d have another go.

Drew had taken the chandeliers already, to polish them and whatnot, so he only had to wait for his assigned son of Dionysus to show up, and they could start hunting for zebra print blankets and ripping skulls off the ceiling. What fun.

When he still hadn’t shown up, Nico finished pulling all of the previously made bedding from the coffins and dumping it to the side so that Leo could turn it to a bookshelf [He could read, he just had dyslexia thank you very much], and then set off to the Dionysus cabin. It was easy to find, the only male god on the female side, with trelice’s of ivy decorating the whitewashed walls and a grumpy looking leopard snoozing on the purple swinging chair out the front of the small cabin.

He didn’t really want to knock, but he was sure someone would report him for standing around too menacingly if he just waited. He was saved from indecision when the door opened, revealing a tall sandy haired boy.

“You’re the goth, aren’t you?” Pollux sniffed, his nose red. “We can’t help today, but Butch is free, he can do some heavy lifting, and I’m sure Drew’ll criticize your style if you ask nicely enough.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I mean,” Pollux started, rubbing his eyes, and Nico only then realized he was still wearing his pajamas. They had an elongated cartoon owl sticking out of a doorway on it. “Skulls on the ceiling is a bit much, and everyone think you’re a vamp-”

“I meant with you guys, not my style,” Nico interrupted, his eyes narrowed.”

“Someone, decided to go visit Lou Ellen even though we all know she has a cold, and now I have it-” Pollux was cut off once again, his mockingly loud voice reaching the people inside.

“I’m sorry I was concerned for my friend, she wanted soup!”

“She always wants soup!” Pollulx yelled back, and Nico moved past the older child of Dionysus, slipping off his shoes and letting himself into the cabin.

There was nasally muttering behind him and the door slid shut. Nico peered around, and saw a bundle of fluffy blankets on a couch, only a sneezing head poking out the top. “Why did you get sick?”

“I mean it wasn’t really on purpose,” he mumbled back, wiping his nose with a tissue and sinking back into his cocoon. “I can’t help today, but-”

“I don’t care,” Nico started, and plopped down on the white couch, avoiding a deep red stain that could be alcohol or blood. He couldn’t tell. He also didn’t know how to say he’d rather sleep in the coffin again then have to spend the day with someone else.

He sniffed, falling sideways a little on the couch and squinting at the square tv, which was showing some old cartoon about cavemen. “Mkay, well you should probably go if you don’t wanna get sick.”

Nico thought for a moment, trying not to focus on how much he wanted to scoop up the bundle of blankets in his arms far too skinny for that sort of stuff. “Why don’t we watch ‘an Adam family’?

He got watery wide eyes in return and a toothy grin, “wait really?”

“No. If I was making a joke it’d be funnier than that.”

“Okay, let’s watch it,” he said, hopping off the couch and moving to a box of DVDs with a lot of energy for someone so sick. “And it’s the Addams family, goth. You have to learn the basics of this culture if you’re gonna have coffin bookshelves.”

He fiddled around with the tv and then a grainy black and white intro came on, tinny music over the top. Nico watched as he danced to the theme tune in his blanket burrito, all the way back to the couch, where he landed, coughing and winded. Nico raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve done that, you’re sick.”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he mumbled, tucking the fluffy socks on his feet up onto the white couch and wiggling with excitement. Nico watched him for a moment, and then turned back to the TV, feeling his lips twitch into a grin.

Duh duh duh duh, click click. Duh duh duh duh, click click.

Their creepy and they're kooky-

»»————-　★　————-««

“Neeks, this mirror is so cute!”

“You’re welcome,” Nico muttered, rubbing his nose and rolling over, pulling the zebra print doona cover further over his head.

He heard Hazel’s wheelie shoes click along the floorboards and she gilded out of the bathroom. When he peered out, her hair was in bunchies and she was pulling a purple hoodie over her head. “It’s so much nicer in here now, but how did you get sick redecorating?”

“Uhm..There was a lot of dust. I might be allergic?”

The door slammed open, the clear chandelier hanging from the roof shaking as Nyssa trudged in, her work boots leaving mud on the fluffy blood red rug. She was holding the glitter covered scrapbook in her gloved hands.

“So, I know I’m supposed to make everything in this, but what am I supposed to do with the polaroid of you kissing Mr D ‘s kid?”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo x reader #nico di angelo x you #nico di angelo x son of dionysus #hazel levesque #Pollux pjo #Hades #Hades cabin #death siblings

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velvrei · 1 year

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CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

summary: robby and the reader go to prom and kyler’s after party, what happens when robby misbehaves and annoys the reader?

pairings: robby keene x female!reader

warnings: smut, season 4? handjobs, semi-public sex (except they don't actually have sex), begging, underage drinking, praise kink, pda (kissing in public), degradation, edging, overstimulation, choking

word count: 3k

author’s note: another early morning post<3 hope everyone has an amazing day and i hope you enjoy!

That content smile your father seldomly showed always uplifted you at the greatest times possible. He didn't smile much, however, when he did, it was for a good reason. Today's reason, it was prom night.

You and your father were very close. He was the type of dad to threaten or even hurt anyone who hurt you. And oh, the advantage of having a filthy rich father. He let you pick out your dress, no matter the price, and then not too long after took your date, Robby Keene, out to buy a tux. You insisted that you would go with though, cause you sensed your dad would doubtlessly have that father-daughters-boyfriend talk about how "if you hurt her I'll hurt you", or "you better treat her how she deserves".

Robby treated you like a queen, which is something your dad observed and it something he appreciated.

Robby constantly told you how perfect you were. He knew how to make you feel appreciated, and you constantly made sure he felt appreciated as well. You and Robby were sublime together.

"Daddy? Robby? Can I come down now?!" You yelled yearningly down the stairs. It was time for your big reveal with your new dress, as they did in basically every teen-movie involving some kind of dance. It was finally your turn, and you got to be escorted by the karate star of your dreams. It was the perfect moment.

"Yes, honey, we're ready."

You began your walk down the stairs, holding the railing to make sure you didn't stumble upon yourself. You looked up and saw your dad holding the phone on it's side, recording with his jaw dropped as one would. You looked beautiful. You had great taste.

Your dress was a gorgeous burgundy, with spaghetti width straps as well as a v cut that ended slowly above your breasts, far enough to make them perk up but you pulled it up until you got past your dad. You didn't feel like getting 'questioned' (which was Terry's replacement word for getting screamed at) on prom night.

Your gaze met Keene's and his jaw was dropped. He looked astonishing in his matching tux. His blazer and pants were jet black, as well as his tie and pocket square.

"Y- You look-" Robby was inarticulate, he was unable to speak.

"Beautiful, honey! I'm so glad I let you pick out your dress. You look amazing. Pretty sure Robby agrees, he's speechless!" Terry smiled brightly and you walked down the last step, instantaneously giving him a bear hug.

"Thank you so much daddy, for everything," You let go of your dad not wanting to crush his soul, "Today has been so perfect and I already know we'll have so much fun." His smile grew hearing your appreciation. He loved you so much, all he needed was to make sure his little girl had fun.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Silver. Thank you for the tux, I'll pay you back when I can-"

"Don't worry about that kid, all I ask for is that you two stay safe. Tonight is supposed to be enjoyable, if you get in fights, first you win, then after the dance or whatever after party I'm sure someone will throw come back to tell me. I will handle it if it needs to be handled afterwards." Hearing those words made you feel safe.

"Of course, if something goes on that doesn't involve us we will disregard the entire situation." Robby looked Terry straight in the eye, but it wasn't a challenging stare per say, more of a 'I've got your back' look.

"Okay! Let me get some pictures and then you two should be on your way!" Terry spoke, searching around for one of his butlers to take a photo of the three of them.

"Ophelia, could you come here and take a picture for me and my two favorite teens, please?" He shouted, and Ophelia came running. She was always your favorite, she was adorable. Brown hair, ocean blue eyes, which was exceptionally rare for her darker skin tone.

"Of course, Mr. Silver." Her voice was always incredibly calming.

Your father's scoff turned into a laugh, "Remember, love, you can call me Terry. I get you work for me and you feel the need to but I really prefer Terry no matter who it is."

Your dad smiled sweetly toward Ophelia, and she smiled back gratefully, ready to take the picture on Terry's phone as he wrapped his arms around the both of you, standing in the middle. 'If he stood on the side it would've looked awkward', was probably something he would say later on.

The picture was taken, along with a few selfies taken by Terry and his long armed, substantial tall figure. Terry escorted the two of you into his lamborghini veneno that he gave you for the night.

Then, you were off to live the night of your dreams.

彡

You arrived to prom in style, you and Robby's whole goal was to make everyone turn their heads and cluelessly wonder how the former criminal bagged Samantha LaRusso's ex-buddy and Yasmine and Moon's current bestie. Sam used to be your friend, but she had messed up way to many times.

Robby quickly jogged to the passenger seat, almost tripping on the cement but he ceased himself and opened your door successfully.

"M'lady," He said, bowing with one hand behind his back then quickly reaching out and helping you out do the car.

"Thank you, kind sir." The playful banter didn't last very long, and no surprise you were the won to end it, "I swear to the devil if these heels ache my feet one more time I will fucking throw them at literally anyone's stupid face-"

Robby shushed you, his finger hovering your sultry lips. It smelled of cologne. How much cologne did he put on that day?

"It's okay, just let me know if it continues so I can sweep you off your feet." He said with a cunning smirk.

You were in for a tedious night of cheesy pick-up lines.

As you walked up to the door, thundering music filled your ears, the smell of school and alcohol filling your nose, which is something you should've expected but didn't in the slightest.

"Okay, if we see Sam or even Miguel, just look for like 2 seconds and look away, let's give them the act that we don't give a fuck. Cause we don't," His arm linked with yours, "Am I correct, Lady Silver?"

"You sure are, Sir Keene."

You slightly pushed passed the coral curtain, your steps in sync as you felt your chest become moderately warm. You both looked to the left of you, seeing Samantha and Miguel together at one of the many punched bowls that were spiked.

As soon as you even felt them notice, you looked away, and straight ahead, your eyes pausing on Moon and Yasmine.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," You heard Sam murmur, you could tell the frustration in her voice even if it was just a careless whisper.

Speaking of careless whispers, you heard the song by George Michael begin playing. You looked Robby directly in the eye and he knew exactly what you wanted. He was ready to go mingle with Kyler and Piper as you did so.

He gave you the gaze of approval, even thought you technically didn't need his permission. You kissed his cheek and ran off with Moon and Yasmine to sing your heart outs as if you were just broken up with and still in love with your former partner. But none of you were actually.

After you sung noisily with your closest friends, not even somewhat embarrassed of how heartbroken you may've sounded, and intensely danced with Robby to LES by Childish Gambino.

"Hey love, I heard our old teacher buddy Stingray is throwing an after party at his place," His eyes met yours and his right hand that was covered in rings found a place in your waist, "Wanna get out of here?" His eyebrows raised, his gaze moved down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"You know it, baby."

彡

You and Robby were both been expecting some kind of after party to be held after prom, it was a tradition and it was finally your turn to be apart of it. Your whole night felt surreal.

You and Robby stumbled in through the door, his lips separating from your warm ones as he removed his hands from your waist.

"Aye look at Robby over there getting some, why don't I have that?" Kyler remarked, you could tell his dumbass was already intoxicated, you could smell his breath from a mile away.

"Maybe if you actually became tolerable more girls would be attracted to you," You shook your head with a chuckle.

Robby swiftly moved his hand up to your mouth, turning your chin toward him so you were eye level and wiped off your wet bottom lip as you tried not to internally freak out and played it somewhat normal by fixing his undone tie, maybe you should've have pulled on it as hard as you did outside.

"We'll continue that later," You whispered, then smacked his ass causing him to wince somewhat loudly.

Tory laughed, attempting to get Kyler some water to stay at least some what allegeable, "You alright over there, Keene?" She grabbed a dishrag from the drawer next to her, which she had remembered from the countless times she and the cobra gang had hung out with Stingray in the previous times.

"Yeah," Robby lied with a voice crack.

You laughed, then strolled over to find something else to do, Robby quickly following. "Why do you keep smacking my ass?" He questioned, you could tell he was becoming a frantic mess already. It was only eleven thirty-five post meridiem.

"You've got a voluptuous ass on you, man, if you haven't realized that already," You had smacked it at least seventeen times throughout the night, and it wasn't even close to being finished yet. "Oh?" You ignored his simple remark.

"Why? Do you not like it?"

"I never said that," He laughed and scratched his neck awkwardly.

You hummed, your left hand grasping his tie and your right ran along his stabbing jawline, you raised your lips up to his ear, "You know I wouldn't purposely do anything you're uncomfortable with, right, love?"

You softly kissed below his ear, knowing that was his sweet spot. You heard an almost silent sigh leave his lips, the actions you executed always left him desired for more.

He mumbled a ‘mhm’.

"Use your words, my king."

His knees became week and he almost collapsed in the middle of the room. Your voice was so sexy. "Yes, I know that, Y/N." His voice was raspy and low, as if he just had sexual intercourse although you've just been teasing him with your words.

"Good. Just wanted to make sure," Your nails lightly heaved the soft skin of his face. "Let's go find somewhere more private, shall we?" He nodded eagerly, but then remembered to use his words.

"Please, Y/N."

The sound of him begging quietly in your ear made you get butterflies in the place a little lower than your stomach, you felt your heart skip a beat as you made eye contact, grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in for a kiss, at this point, it didn't even matter if Sam or Miguel saw you.

You winked, then turn around, your fingers still firmly grasping his tie, leading him to find a somewhat empty closet.

Once you did just that, Robby felt his pants get tighter as you closed the door behind the two of you and pushed him up against the door.

You were so enticing. "You look so good, my love," Your hand traced faintly down his chest, he was so aroused his pale cheeks were almost red.

"Please, Y/N."

"Please what, my love? What do you want?" He let out a frustrated groan as your hand advanced lower and lower, stopping at his V-line. "T- touch me."

You enjoyed this side of him, he rarely showed vulnerability, and when he did it was with you. It made you aroused at the thought and sight of him begging for you to touch him.

Your lips firmly pushed against his, your left hand ran into his hair, pulling roughly and he let out an raucous moan. He eagerly pushed his crotch against you in attempt for some class of friction, failing miserably as you caught the act and stepped away, your lips separating.

"How cute, you're impatient," Your words were sweet like honey but what they meant made him stuck. He was officially sexually frustrated because of you, and you were adoring it.

You pushed his blazer off, his button-up displayed his chest beautifully. "Just thought I would help you, cause you seem to be very hot and bothered." He whined at your words.

"Please don't tease me. Please, please just do something. I don't care what it is," God, he was so needy. "Just touch me, Y/N."

You slowly undid the first three buttons of his shirt, leaving the remaining ones together as Robby's hands flit up to both verges of your face. "Y/N. Do something. I'm begging you," You could hear the direct need in his tone, and it made your knees give in.

You couldn't wait any longer to watch your boyfriend lose it.

"Fine."

You moved quickly, your hands swiftly undoing his pants and shoving them down. His boxers joined his pants and you grabbed ahold of him. He let out a needy whimper. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, love? For me to touch you? You're so fucking needy."

He panted heavily, "You really have a way with words, huh?" He shuttered, his cheeks were bright pink and his hair was slightly messed up from your hands grasping at it.

"Only you would know that," A shiver traveled down his spine as you bent over and spat, then began pumping him faster.

You didn't bother shielding his lips with your free hand because you knew the loudly blasting music would cover his mellow whines and whimpers. "Holy shit." His hand fumbled on the door nob, trying to find something to lean himself on.

You looked him directly in the eye, you then turned him so his back was faced on the inside wall of the colorless closet.

Precum leaked off of him, he watched you in awe as you swiped your thumb across him and brought the remains up, your swollen lips closed around, your tongue worshipped his sweet taste.

He moaned at the sight, everything you did evoked him.

"Your hands are so, fuck," He wasn't able to form a proper sentence so you finished it for him, "Talented? Soft? Perfect? Something along those lines I'm assuming?" You said with a grin, your cocky side began to show, it made him weaker by the second.

"I'm so close, fuck," He whispered as his legs began to shake and his heart began to beat much faster than before. You slowly pulled away, and he suddenly became cold at the loss of your touch. He whined desperately, by now his entire body was alight with arousal and it was really pissing him off how you kept teasing but he knew if he did something about it he would regret it poorly.

"You want to come? Okay, I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you explain what you want me to do and then I may just do it." You spoke. He took that as a challenge. Challenge excepted.

He knew just how to make you listen.

"Please, Y/N, please, let me come," He begged with the tiniest smirk you've ever seen, "Please, I'll do anything, I'll be such a good boy for you," You almost moaned but you ceased yourself, "Please, please let me come." He begged.

You looked him in the eye and pumped him as fast as your hand could possibly go, he moaned loudly and began thrusting up to your hand. You wanted him to regret that he ever sassed you, even if it was just a little smirk he gave, however you saw it.

He mouth fell open, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Even after he came, you continued pumping him and he groaned.

Your fingers firmly gripped his throat.

"You really think you can purposely turn me on and not expect any consequences? Think again, Keene, you may have got what you wanted, but oh, honey, I'm going to do so much more than that." He whimpered at your words, and your hand continued loving at the same speed.

You began to get a cramp in your hand but you ignored it and continued your assault by rotating your hand and rubbing your thumb along his tip. "Fuck!"

He came again.

And again.

The overstimulations were enjoyable at first but it eventually became too much, and he begged for you to stop or else he would explode. You knew that. "You gonna be sassy to me?" Your hand tightened on his neck, and you examined his eyes. His pupils were dilating like crazy.

"No, Y/N, I promise I won't. You're in charge, I know that now. I'm so sorry, please forgive me." His attempted apology was like music to your ears. "Are you really sorry?"

"Yes!"

You smirked, and pursued to pump him. "Oh god I'm so close again, please please let this be the last one I w- won't be able to walk." He was a mess. It was beautiful.

"Okay my king, come for me. One last time." Your soft whispers caused him to throw his head back, he didn't care how hard it hit the door or how loud it could've sounded. He shouted your name as he orgasmed, and you swore he was about to cry.

After he finished he almost fell over but you caught him before he could. You put his weight back into the wall and cupped his cheek carefully. "You did so well, honey."

He melted into the warmth of your hand, and he stopped the arise of the red on his cheeks. "Thank you."

It made you happy knowing he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you. You got him to beg multiple times, even if quite a few seemed sarcastic, he clearly learned his lesson.

He challenged you, and you won. You always won.

#robby keene smut #cobra kai imagine #robby keene x reader #cobra kai #imagines #cobra kai smut

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iwonderwh0 · 8 months

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Emma: "This is Daniel, the coolest android in the world! Say hi, Daniel!"

Daniel: "Hello!"

Emma: "You're my bestie! We'll always be together!"

The thing is, Emma probably didn't even know anything about her father's plans to replace Daniel, and it is really possible that if she had a chance to get to know about it before Daniel, she'd be the one throwing a tantrum, potentially preventing anything that happened instead. Aside from just Emma, it was repeatedly mentioned throughout the game that kids actually love androids. For example there's this dialogue at the station that Markus can overhear:

Little girl, visibly upset, hugging herself: "Are we really going to get rid of Mandy?"

(Probably mother): "Grandma says it leaves her nothing to do, sweetie."

Little girl: "But she's so cool!"

Mother: "I know, honey."

Not only kids think they're cool, android-only band Here4You is even hitting the charts as one of the most popular among youngsters, whereas adults find them really creepy and soulless. Another overhead dialogue from the same chapter:

"I heard that android boyband is going to win sone music prize"

"You mean Here4You? God, they're so creepy.

"My kids don't listen to anything else."

From adult's POV this attachment is interpreted as just another form of phone/internet/social-media/[insert anything else young people are accused of liking too much]-addiction, because most of them are too angry at CyberLife to comprehend that their kids may actually like androids for who they are as people in their lives, for being their safe space of a kind, and not because they're just addicted to that fancy toys to play with (although there probably are some kids who'd see them exactly this way. There always are.)

It was truly a misfortune that Daniel got so overwhelmed by the news that he instantly became fatalistic instead of pausing to really think about it first, to maybe consider that this decision may not have been a collective one, and there's still a chance -- maybe a small one, but still the one worth looking into -- to cancel it by talking, asking Emma about if she knows (because she probably didn't) instead of instantly going for the gun to take revenge on everyone as equally guilty. Instead of asking, he instantly assumed the worst – that Emma's opinion in the matter will be the same as her father's, and that was his main mistake. Daniel must have had really good relationships with the whole family including the father who as it turned out didn't think of him as a person, but rather a replaceable object – something Daniel never expected or even considered before, which, by the way, only further implies just how much he was actually loved for this information to be this unexpected and this world-shattering. He never saw it coming AT ALL (and in a generally anti-android society it really is telling) so this unexpected truth basically overwritten everything he ever knew about his life and world as a whole, making him feel like a fool for not seeing it earlier.

In this sense he's really similar to Connor when he realised that CyberLife never loved him, that he in fact is NOT special, not an exception from the rule, and was only used as an expendable object. There really is a parallel here. Except for Connor this knowledge didn't came with an anger, but with guilt for his previous actions (and, you know, Connor was actually right about it while Daniel could have potentially made a mistake in interpreting it the way he did)

So "Daniel never saw it coming because he was only surrounded by love" is one theory, but now I wanna consider a different one, being –

He was never going to be replaced on the first place,

Philips family is just insanely rich and John decided that he can afford to buy one more android, because why not? The one they have is great, and their enormous apartment with giant gold statues of Buddha and big-ass pool area would benefit from another pair of hands. It's possible that this decision wasn't even planned, but just an impulsive purchase done by someone who's so rich that spending nearly 10K is not a big deal.

And in this case, maybe Daniel's suspicion accumulated over a period time of him hearing how other androids are talked about outside of Philip's family and always thinking "For me it's different – they actually love me for who I am and will never replace like that. They're not like those other people, they're different, I'm different." And then him seeing that purchase was just...the last straw that was needed for him to apply all those previous already existing suspicions to his own situation and finally consider that they might actually apply to him, resulting in him drawing those depressing conclusions that if true would mean that his whole life has been a lie that he was just too stupid to be able to see through.

So there's at least a small chance that it was all a result of just a big misjudgement and/or could be avoided if dialogue was Daniel's first choice of action instead of him getting blinded by his anger and urge to take revenge on those who -- at least from his immediate understanding of the situation -- betrayed him.

#dbh #dbh daniel #dbh emma #detroit: become human #detroit become human

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overleftdown · 4 months

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deranged post-canon farleigh speculation

so. archie madekwe said something that makes me question a lot of the other post-canon speculation (often quickstart dynamic post-canon fics, speculation, etc.). Basically, he was talking about how tired Farleigh was getting, in the point in time that the movie is set. This is depicted through his confrontation with Felix, which Archie confirmed was the first conversation Farleigh has had with the cattons about the issue of bias.

a review by hilton als briefly touched on farleigh's possible future, as well. it was a very negative and... honestly understandable idea of what farleigh would grow up to become. aka, someone who exploited and tokenized their race for "brownie points," pun not intended. i see a lot of people crafting stories of farleigh finding different ways to rejoin the ultra-rich class. and i kinda wanna say that i... don't like that. here's an anecdote: my cousin and i had a conversation about his experience moving from a white-dominated, suburban environment. he argues that although racism is still prevalent where he now lives, the racism he experienced in his hometown was so painfully, covertly delivered. it's this sort of "could you just call me a slur or something" mentality.

although farleigh is terrified of change, although farleigh is terrified of losing what he believes is an accommodation for his marginalization (it isn't; you can't buy your way out of racism), although farleigh learned to be materialistic through the ways in which he was raised, although farleigh is constantly running away from something--i think he was reaching a point of genuine hatred for the ways in which racism is delivered to him in this environment. i would also go insane. so freakishly insane. i think his conversation with felix made him understand that maybe the cattons will never even try to change. that the cattons couldn't even acknowledge the problem in the first place. that you can't really win, with people like the cattons. it's always a game of when, and never if. when will they finally, politely discard me?

this leaves a couple options. the first, farleigh learns to be financially independent and very much successful. he would never rely on other people again, especially not white people. this leaves room for hilton als' interpretation, but the fact that farleigh was cognizant of and willing to mention racial bias to felix is evidence for me to assume that farleigh is beyond belittling himself like that. farleigh already experienced so much shame from catering towards the cattons and their whiteness... i don't think he'd keep going with that. not with the way it ended. not after he had the horrible wake-up call that was both his cousins dying. so, maybe farleigh does find his way back to wealth. maybe through fashion, through modeling like his mother, through another form of art, through business, whatever.

the other option is that farleigh just... doesn't acquire that level or even close to that level of wealth again. i kinda like this idea. i kinda like imagining farleigh in a city flat or smaller suburban house, finding a significant other and probably never ever having kids. that, of course, still leaves room for farleigh to go and brutalize oliver out of saltburn. but i'd like to think he wouldn't take saltburn back. as i've said before, farleigh was never greedy. he never wanted to replace or succeed the cattons, nor did he want any form of dominance over them. to be their equal, yes. to be seen and heard and given attention, yes. but never did he play his games to knock felix or venetia down. i feel like farleigh would be the "eat the rich" that saltburn didn't have. not in the corny way, because farleigh is no robin hood, nor is he an innocent and selfless person.

my ideal "sequel" type situation would be farleigh returning to saltburn after living comfortably and humbly for the last 20 years. he's not here out of moral obligation. he's not here to steal back the catton wealth. he's here selfishly, and out of burning hatred. he's here because oliver stole any sense of closure farleigh could've ever had. he's here because oliver never gave farleigh the opportunity to forgive his family, nor to mourn them, nor to visit those memories, nor to make new ones. farleigh is here to wreck oliver's shit. it's not healthy, it's not pretty, it's not clean. i'd imagine 40-year-old farleigh, having matured, returning to saltburn and regressing to the same games he always used to play. lying, people pleasing, pretending, sex, drugs, sass, etc. ahhh. my ideal sequel. a man who found peace without closure and finds closure through a significant lack of peace. and, also, oliver dead as hell.

#farleigh start #i have class in 6 hours and i need sleep #saltburn #i threw this down in 15 minutes #it's not good and is in fact deranged #do u guys get me tho #i'm sure if emerald fennell were to write this sequel then maybe the quickstarters would b right #but i kinda hope she would maybe like #she does talk about quickstart as like a #idek #i love emerald #but i have Thoughts on this movie #and this character.#and these fans.#and arghgdjflds #i just want oliver to be CRUSHED #LIKE A WORM #i wouldn't care if emerald added in the hate sex that you freaks so DESPERATELY crave #like I KNOW I KNOW THEY'RE HOT??#whateverrrr i care more about angst #guys angst mmmmmmmmmm #being asexual is so funny sometimes #i feel like i'm watching penguins in their little enclosure #deprived of freedom #sliding around and feral and slapping each other because they're in an enclosure #i'm so tired help me #i just mean that #you guys are funny like i cannot imagine living life with this craving that u guys r being crushed by #“cmon guys where is the farleigh x reader fanfiction cmon guys” like hello? hello hi?#i'm flipping the script actually

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kittykatninja321 · 4 months

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Early Jason and Tim dynamic as a mutually parasocial relationship. Jason only knows Tim through pictures. From his perspective he’s the rich kid with no baggage Bruce replaced him with. He just represents further proof that he is unloved. Tim only knows Jason through pictures and a memorial case. To Tim Jason is the Robin that died(failed). Jason represents a fate that is to be avoided at all costs. They both look at each other and see right past one another to project their own meaning. They’re just symbols to each other

#Two people who only know each other through pictures and their 1st meet up is immediately them throwing hands #well it’s more Jason throwing hands #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dc #Honestly I prefer when people exaggerate Tim’s lack of regard for Jason as him being a hater than the other way around #(The whole what if Jason was Tim’s Robin fanon thing) hatred and bitterness and resentment on planet earth <3. Also hater Tim is funny

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literaila · 11 months

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shoes (part one)

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

“apparently dating your boss is a 'conflict of interest.'"

"i can't imagine why."

warnings: haha, just lots of nothing, harry is there, peter is there, reader is there, rich people stuff, mentions of alcohol, secrets that only i know

a/n: two in one night???? yes. i’ve been sitting on this for like seven years. (cowboy like me).

peter doesn't often pay attention to people's shoes.

he's never been inclined to stare at the ground, or, at least, to stare at the ground and not watch the strange way it seems to rumble beneath him. to watch people walk like he might look up and find them smiling back at him.

no, he doesn't have time to look down and appreciate the scuff marks on someone's nikes. he doesn't want to stare at someone's wingtips and wonder where he can get a pair for himself.

his old tennis shoes are enough comfort for him to ignore the tears in the soles, and the laces are only slightly frayed at the edges. a bit black from years of neglect and errant ideas of buying the exact same pair.

but tonight, standing in this crowded room and listening to people politely chuckle, he's staring at the shoes beneath him.

there are high heels, wingtips, and fancy leather slippers that probably cost more than his rent, and amongst them all, his converse are certainly a conversation starter.

that is, if peter was actually attempting to talk to anyone.

he can hear all of these people speaking about investments, the stock market, and the kids these days that just don't want to work, and all of the rich-people-talk that he doesn't get to hear often. even staring at the floor like he's doing, looking strangely obsessed with feet, he knows whose granddaughter is valedictorian and who plans to become the next state senator.

but he doesn't hear anything necessarily useful.

nothing about strange men growing claws, or people dying in alleyways with no one around. no one's grandson has become a living wart, and no one here cares if another building gets destroyed by some strange--and necessary--experiment.

the shoes are nice, though. he can follow a person around the room just by following their footsteps. he can watch people walk and act like he's not supposed to be here.

because he's really not.

the fact that jameson happened to give him this job--begrudgingly, with a frown on his face and a hang of his head--is a miracle. and a disaster because lucy, whom peter is replacing, is going to pass her stomach bug to the rest of the office, and then peter will receive the grunt work.

but he was going to sneak in anyway. he was going to watch from the ceiling--far enough away for shoes to be a mere blur and people to be anaomlys, rather than annoying. he was going to hide in the dark and maybe steal a couple of appetizers.

instead, he's standing in the middle of the room in his converse, holding his camera like he might actually want to capture some of this.

the egos and complete ignorance of everything important happening in the world. the smell of money and arrogance.

peter is thinking about ditching the party--telling jameson that he puked all over some lady's jimmy choo's--when two pairs of footsteps head toward him, rattling like a drum roll.

high heels and tennis shoes, not unlike his own.

he's staring down at a wonderful pair of jordan's when the approaching subject clears his throat, and a flash of teeth causes peter to finally look up.

and meet wide eyes, staring right back at him.

you're wearing lipstick, bright glitter flashing across cheekbones that didn't need to be defined. you're wearing lipstick and a smirk, like you know that peter's going to get lost staring at you.

which, currently, he is.

but your eyes are grinning at him; they are warning him to run.

and he almost can't look away.

wouldn't, if not for the arm attached to yours, and a familiar voice saying his name.

"peter," the man says, clapping him on the back and pulling his eyes away from a girl that he probably should've noticed an hour ago. "didn't think i'd be seeing you here."

why would he?

harry osborn is giving peter a wide smile, his eyes are reflecting secrets from a childhood peter can't seem to remember currently.

but may pounded enough etiquette into his head for it to remain, even when everything else doesn't.

"good to see you," peter says, hugging harry back and finally paying attention, noting a new haircut that is definitely not helping his childhood friend with anything. "if i'd known you were going to be here, i would've found you hours ago."

harry steps back, straightening his back and looking around. "i'm here in my father's place. he wasn't feeling up to it."

peter swallows. "he alright?"

"just a cold, i'm sure," harry shakes his head, sharing an inside joke with peter that neither of them understands. "what're you doing here? finally hooking up with one of the girls from high school?"

peter bites the inside of his cheek, sharing a short laugh.

did you finally marry a rich girl?

"no," he answers, voice still light, eyes still leaning to his right, where you're still standing. "i'm here for work. taking pictures of the banquet for the daily bugle."

harry nods. "did you get a good one of me?"

"of course not."

when harry laughs, peter laughs with him. he looks down again, feeling weirdly comforted that he's not the only one wearing tennis shoes in a place like this. glad that he can tell jameson he spoke to someone.

he looks up again, shaking his head. and then he turns, clearing his throat. "and you are?"

when he meets your eyes again, there's a new glint. a flash of lightning beneath the clouds. your mouth opens, but harry speaks before you get the chance.

"this is y/n davis. my date."

there's a breath, a flash, and someone pops open a bottle of champagne, but peter manages to keep his full attention on you.

"nice to meet you," you say, a tight smile on your face.

your voice is soft and stern, like peter shouldn't disagree.

he's smiling back, but he's not sure that he can hide the surprise on his face. he's sure that he's seen you somewhere before. sure that he recognizes that look on your face...

"this is her first banquet too," harry adds, pulling you closer. peter can hear your shoes click as you adjust.

"there's a lot of people. not enough alcohol."

peter's lip twitches, and yours does the same.

but harry laughs. "there's an open bar," he whispers to you. "i told you i'd get you a drink whenever you'd like."

you look away from peter and to the other man. "i'm just kidding."

harry scoffs, and peter leans back, looking towards the bar that he'd mentioned. "no, i agree," he says, "i thought you guys were supposed to have waiters walking around with cocktails. i have to walk all the way over there for a beer?"

harry shakes his head. "should've brought a date to do it for you."

peter shifts on his feet. there's a beat of silence, where he remembers what he's supposed to be doing here, and then swallows. "how long do these typically last?"

"it's not polite to leave until ten."

"and if i conveniently left my manners at home tonight?"

you smile at him, leaning forward--enough so that peter gets a whiff of perfume. "i saw a backdoor around the corner that you could escape through."

harry rolls his eyes.

peter pretends to look for the door, already having known where it was. the door he came through--the one he was going to break in through.

"good to know."

"have you taken enough pictures?" harry asks, "i haven't been blinded by any flash yet."

"no one's taking pictures of you," peter says, dryly. "i'm not even sure what jameson wants. i've got a couple of shots of the chandelier, just in case."

"get a picture of senator jenkins laughing with captain stacey and you're golden," you tell him, looking over to the pair.

harry laughs. "or you could get a picture of us, and make it the cover."

peter nods, moving a step back. "good idea." he gestures for the two of you to get closer together, holding his camera up.

he watches as harry wraps his arm around your waist, and as your natural smile turns into something of a performance.

still beautiful, though.

"so, how do you know each other?" peter asks, just as he snaps a shot. he takes another step back, adjusting his settings.

"she worked for me," harry says, putting on his perfect rich-boy smile.

peter raises a brow.

"i was his assistant."

your words are overly enunciated and you sneak a look over to harry, like you're checking to see if he noticed something.

peter snorts. "i'd expect nothing less from you, harry."

"what?" he defends, rolling his eyes. "was i supposed to ignore her?"

he says it like it shouldn't be possible.

peter smiles. takes another shot, not caring how it turns out. he tries to get harry's sneakers and your high heels together.

"and now?" peter continues, letting go of his camera and taking a step toward the two of you, sure that it's time to leave.

"i work for a legal office now. apparently dating your boss is a 'conflict of interest.'"

"i can't imagine why," peter responds, eyes flashing.

you laugh.

and then someone calls harry's name, and peter blinks, looking away from you and over to his friend.

"good to see you, peter. call me sometime, we'll get together." harry offers his hand again like they're making a business deal.

but peter shakes it anyway, nodding.

"it was nice to meet you," he says to you and watches as you and harry walk away, arm in arm.

he listens to two synchronized footsteps, but swears he can hear a stutter in there somewhere. just one moment where something has fallen apart.

and then it's gone, and you look over your shoulder locking eyes with him.

a storm flashing beneath the smile you send his way, gone as soon as it appeared.

when you're out of his sight peter is back to standing in the middle of his room, watching the shoes of people he doesn't care to pay attention to.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

Text

reader, i [kissed] him | Choi San

summary: you have a dumb rude rich dad who hired a bodyguard because he's paranoid...enter choi san who is literally the man dreams are made of but he works for you so that's weird. you're a lit student and you've been giving him book recs. warnings: absent/sucky dad, mention of papercuts, a few minor jane eyre spoilers?, storm, fire

You look up at the sound of a book shutting. San pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes. “Finished,” he says.

You shut your textbook. “What did you think of the series?”

He leans back in a stretch. “You were right,” he admits. “Percy Jackson is pretty meaningful for a kids’ story.” He replaces his glasses, smiling at you. “So what’s next for the book club?”

You chuckle. “Are you enjoying my reading assignments?”

“Honestly, yeah. I can’t believe I’m getting paid to read books with you,” he says. “There are literally no downsides.”

“You’re getting paid to protect me,” you correct, a teasing smile playing about your lips. “Keep an eye on these books. They’re notorious for giving me paper cuts.”

“I will personally destroy any book who dares to mess with your fingers,” he vows dramatically, and you laugh. “But seriously, are you done studying for the day or do I get another reading assignment?”

“I still have a bit of work to do,” you say, pulling out your copious notes. “So you get another hour or so to read. Don’t you want to choose one?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “I’d rather live inside your head for awhile. Why? Did you run out of books?”

You make a mock-offended face. “Absolutely not,” you say. “I just wanted to give you the option to read what you want to read, instead of what I want you to read.”

“What you want me to read is what I want to read,” he tells you, standing up. “Now, lay it on me.”

“Jane Eyre,” you say. “It’ll be in the B section.”

You watch as his broad shoulders retreat into the library shelves, admiring the muscles clearly visible underneath his tight black shirt. Shaking your head, you turn back to your studies, reminding yourself that ogling your bodyguard is a fruitless and unnecessary activity that will not help you pass your college classes.

He takes a seat shortly afterward, holding up the copy of Jane Eyre. “Why this one?” he asks — his constant question before he reads any of your suggestions.

“Well,” you say carefully, “it’s actually…my favorite.”

His eyes get wide. “This book is your favorite?” he asks, pointing to the gray cover.

You nod. “My absolute favorite, of all time, ever.”

“I thought you were gonna save your favorite for graduation,” he says. “Why are you moving it forward in the queue?”

“Because I feel our friendship will remain intact even if you don’t like it,” you say. “I wasn’t sure for awhile there.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying you’ll still love me even if I don’t like your favorite book?” he asks with a glint of humor in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you say. “Although it’d be hard for me. This book is a must-read if you hope to understand anything about me.”

He leans back, opening the book to the first page. “Then I don’t see how I couldn’t like it,” he says. “I don’t know why you were worried. Brief summary?”

“Terrible childhood, brooding gentleman, house with a dark secret, romance.” His eyes stay on you as you list the themes. Then suddenly your phone buzzes. You look at it and make a face.

“Your dad?” San guesses.

You nod, answering the call. “Hello?” you say in trepidation.

“Where are you?” he barks.

“At the library at school,” you say, trying to keep a calm tone. “I’m studying.”

“Good,” he says gruffly. “Is San with you?”

You sigh quietly. “Yes,” you say.

“Perfect. I’ll be gone the next few days for a trip. Don’t call.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you promise, hanging up.

“What happened?” San asks immediately. “Was he unkind?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No more than usual,” you reply. “He’s going out of town and wanted to make sure I knew not to call.”

San’s jaw clenches briefly, before turning his attention back to the book in his hand. “So why is this book your favorite?”

You consider him for a moment. You know a major motivation for him to ask you this question is to distract you from thoughts of your father, but he nonetheless looks earnest, so you answer honestly. “The book is written from the point of view of a young woman whose frank honesty is pretty inspiring. She doesn’t extol her virtues or edit out her failings. And it’s a story of how she comes into her own and finds herself. I don’t know, it’s just compelling.”

He gives you a large, dimpled smile -- that smile that stops the world, that makes you want to give him everything he ever wanted. “She sounds like you,” he says.

You blush. “Well, I haven’t found myself yet,” you say. “I’m still looking.”

“You might not be perfect yet,” he admonishes, “but you know yourself well. Now get back to studying or else we’ll be here all night.”

You can’t help but smile softly to yourself as you turn back to your books.

***

Later that night, you’re alone in your room with a candle burning, the window open to the cool night air. Your father’s large house is quiet, and you thumb through your personal copy of Jane Eyre, remembering how when you and San had left the library, he insisted on checking it out. “It’s your favorite,” he’d said, confused, when you asked him why.

You smile in spite of yourself once again, thinking about how all the things you want feel just out of your reach. You have family — but they aren’t close. You have money — but no ability to use it due to your father’s curmudgeonly nature. And here is the perfect man — silly, intelligent, handsome, and the kindest person you’ve ever known, and yet he works for you. That is a line you know it would be unfair to him to try to cross, especially with a father like you have.

Lost in thought, you slip on your favorite blue nightgown. Perhaps tonight, with the chill air on your skin, you’ll wander the halls of the house with your candle just like the secret Mrs. Rochester herself. You even consider going down the hall to where San sleeps to see if he’s made it to that part yet, but stop yourself when you realize just how inappropriate that would look. Instead, you sink into your bed and stare at the ceiling, urging sleep to come and whisk you away into a dream world that is hopefully happier than the one in which you live.

You have scarcely closed your eyes when the rumble of thunder wakes you. The open window is swinging dangerously on its hinges as a storm rages outside. You shriek as rain begins pelting the carpet, and hop up to shut the window. With the sound of the storm now muffled, you try to flick on the bedside lamp, but either the bulb is burnt out or you’ve lost power. You go to the main light and flip the switch — nothing. You sigh. It’s about to be very cold.

Just then there’s a knock at the door, making you jump. You crack it open to see San, in his pajamas, holding a candle. “Everything okay in there?” he asks you. “I heard a scream.”

“Yeah, I just forgot to close the window before I fell asleep, and then the storm started,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry to wake you.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says. His eyes travel down your body, taking in the sight of you in your nightgown. Goosebumps erupt on your arms, and he notices right away. “Are you cold?”

You shiver. “Uh, yeah,” you say.

He smiles. “Your dad’s sitting room has a fireplace. Let’s go.”

“Won’t he be mad?” you say, even as you step out of your bedroom with a blanket.

“He’ll never even know,” San assures you. Minutes later, you are sitting on a couch with a blazing fire in front of you, blankets tucked around you as San leans his back against the couch, looking proudly at the fire he made.

You adjust the strap of your nightgown, looking at him shyly. “Thanks,” you say.

He smiles in reply. “So, Jane’s quite the heroine,” he says, shouting you a glance.

You smile. “How far did you get?”

“I’m at the part where the fortune teller talks to the party guests.”

Your eyes get wide. “What? That’s pretty far.”

“It’s pretty good,” he says earnestly. “I’ve always wanted a little girl like Adele.”

“Pretty?” you ask him.

He grins. “Spoiled,” he says. “Although I’d be sweeter to her than Mr. Rochester is.”

“I’ll bet you would. What do you think about Mr. Rochester so far?”

He shrugs. “Probably similarly to how most people in his life feel. He’s a mysterious man. I don’t think I trust him.”

“Can I give you a tiny spoiler,” you beg, and he laughs.

“I think I am contractually forbidden to say no to you,” he says, “and also, yes, as long as it isn’t major.”

You lean forward, nearly whispering to him. “The next bit is some of the spookiest stuff in the book.”

You move your legs to give him room on the couch as he stands up to sit next to you. “Am I gonna get scared?” he asks.

“You’re a bodyguard. Aren’t you supposed to be brave?” you tease.

He scoffs. “Being brave isn’t about not being scared. It’s about facing the fear.”

You nod, impressed. “Ah, how well-said. You know, for a bodyguard, you’re quite eloquent.”

“And for a pretentious academic, you’re quite down-to-earth,” he teases. “However, I will say that you don’t strike me as someone who’s scared of much.”

You think for a moment. “I suppose I’m not,” you say slowly, “although it isn’t quite that simple. I do have anxiety.”

“What’s the difference?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m not scared of spiders or the dark or storms or even dying, necessarily. But any one of those things could make me overthink myself into full-on panic. I got bitten by a spider and it made me so anxious that I was convinced I would die every night.”

He nods, thinking, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. “What does it feel like for you?” he asks softly.

“Like a weight on my chest,” you respond immediately. “Sometimes it’s so bad I can hardly breathe.”

You have to turn away as he looks at you. His expression is so compassionate you are afraid that his empathy will pick up on the very real feelings you have for him. He asks a new question. “And joy — what does that feel like?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised. He raises both his hands in an innocent gesture. “You have such colorful descriptions,” he says. “I just want to get a little deeper into your headspace. It’ll probably help me do my job better.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance before giving in. “Joy feels like…the first step out the door when the air starts to turn cold and crisp for fall. It’s like something new but also so familiar.” You think about the feeling you get every time he smiles. “It’s…expansive. And warm.” You turn to him. “What about you?”

His eyes widen in surprise to have been asked. “Oh. Um…” he thinks for a second, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Joy feels like music to me, like the best part of your favorite song.”

“Beautiful,” you say, smiling back at him. “And fear? What does that feel like?”

“Being trapped. No freedom,” he says. He hesitates before he asks the next question. “And…love?”

You blush. “Love isn’t an emotion,” you protest, looking away from him. “Love is a verb. It’s an action.”

“You’re right,” he allows, “but it comes with a very specific feeling. How does that feel? For you?”

You look up at him, finally, unable to look away. “That’s one I’m not sure about.” You force yourself to ask what you don’t want to know — because he’s a little older than you, and has lived a whole life apart from you, a life that must have involved the whole spectrum of human emotion and loss and love, but to hear of him falling in love is too much — “Maybe if you describe it, I’ll recognize it.”

He opens his mouth, then pauses, searching your face before smiling bemusedly. “It’s…it’s this heat, everywhere,” he says. “Almost like you’re being lit up like a candle from the inside, almost like if someone were to really look at you, they’d be able to see light coming from every part of you, even…even underneath your fingernails.”

Your heart nearly stops as you realize he’s describing almost perfectly how it feels for you to be around him. You swallow nervously before replying. “It sounds…intense.”

He chuckles. “It is.” And then he does something so unexpected that you gasp. He leans in and catches your cheek in his hand. “When I’m around you,” he says, and his voice is shaking, “it sometimes feels like I might explode — it’s like you are firelight, filling up all the parts of me that used to be empty, and then some. I’m surprised you can’t see my veins from the outside, because I swear to God, I can feel you lighting them up. You’re everywhere.”

He gently brings your face forward so your lips are practically touching. “Everywhere,” he whispers once more, before closing the gap and kissing you.

He pulls you into his lap as he does, cradling you in his arms, and you have to hold on to his shirt for dear life as you kiss him back. When he finally pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to yours, he asks you quietly, “this, what does this feel like for you?”

You consider, touching his face with your fingertips as his eyes bore into your own. He looks positively desperate to know. After awhile you answer. “All the voices that are usually shouting at me in my head are suddenly very quiet.”

“And that’s…good?” he asks intently.

“It’s…more than good,” you admit with a blush.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he says, and his voice is breathless, his chest heaving.

“More than anything.”

He smiles, kissing you again.

#ateez #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #san

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chrissshub · 2 years

Text

OLD FLINGS DIE HARD

FT. EREN YEAGER

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ PAIRINGS: Ex Husband!Eren Yeager x Fem Reader

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ CW: Infidelity, possession, couch sex, teasing, taunting, fingering, nipple play, marking, biting, use of petnames, clit slapping, mentions of Jean Kirstein

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ WORDS FROM CHRIS: This came as a request but I wanted to elaborate on it :))

“Eren?”

“Hey…Y/N…”

It’s a rare occasion when you let Eren enter your newfound home, on his own nonetheless. The clicks of the door’s gear act faster than you can think, drawing your attention from the kitchen stovetop to the wandering hues of green.

It’s the new surroundings that irks him to no end, walking into you in a kitchen different from his own. The walls weren’t as brightly as this one, replacing his choice of an apricot orange to a blazed blue.

The atmosphere here differed from his norm all the same, this one reeking with imitation. He quickly peers out into the living room, the quaint space blessed by the sun’s setting rays. Its light still reaches as far as into the kitchen, kissining Eren’s cold cheek out of sympathy for his wounds.

His eyes meet your body’s frame from his post near the door, pushing it to meld in with the white painted frame. Eren doesn’t speak much until he’s in your vicinity, hands sinking coyly into his jean pockets.

He’s watching you, desperate to drink in the reminiscent sight.

Your hands still hold onto the wooden spoon with the same grip he remembers it, supple fingertips gracing the thinned handle. What leads into the pot is a distinct story, wafting scents flooding Eren’s nose. He knows it well too. The rich spices all simmering into a timeless stew that was once favored by him and him alone.

There’s a desire deep inside you, pulling at a side you wish to abandon. The urge to meet his eyes is present, tell him to drop the doe-eyed look and settle his business with haste. But you’ve known the man too long to turn him away, pity filling the crevices of your heart. It’s been three years now, and in those three years, you’ve never seen the man so lost.

His eyes tell it all. To the average person, some would say Eren’s perfectly fine, just suffering through the rough of a natural human condition. Yet unto you, Eren’s eyes are lost, lost in some dream he can’t seem to escape. The prominent green that once held a righteous glimmer has long lost its gleam, now being casted beneath a thick haze of a chilling realization.

He’s lost all he’s ever had to himself.

Now, he’s forced here, gathering what scraps of you he could before leaving doused in disappointment.

“The kids aren’t here, won’t be here for another hour or two.”

He’s wincing at your voice’s tone, once a gentle melody now replaced with the cold brute of the blunt reality. You don’t even bother to look at him, a subtle detail he takes too far into account. Regardless, Eren simply can’t take your words as infallible, he needed to make some dent into the steel wall sealing him off to your true natures.

“Y/N, I didn’t come here for the kids. I came here–”

“Then you should know how that’ll turn out. Nothing you say or do is gonna fix us, Eren.”

Eren’s swallowing down the lump of regret as you speak. The words resonate with him for the umpteenth time yet they sting more each and every time. He knows none of his words, his sweet talk or convincing will gain your favor again.

Eren also knows how happy you are with your new flame, a man that stands in all that he couldn’t. It’s painful, watching your smile amuse a man other than himself. It can light up any room in an instant yet he still feels cold, knowing that the same warmth would never grace his presence anymore.

And Eren should be okay with it, considering it was his selfishness and immaturity that landed him here: secretly begging for a moment with you. That fact alone is what keeps him so motivated, using that pent-up perseverance to woo your heart back into his hands.

“Fine, Y/N. Just…let me stay, keep you company for the time being…please?”

“Don’t you mean, let me keep you company?”

A silence shrouds the apartment’s kitchen, the shrilling reality coming to light. As cold as you came off to be, you too shared in his cry for company. The difference was that your cry was answered a year ago by a great man, while Eren’s cry could only be answered by you.

“Yes, I do,” Eren groans, bringing a hand to lace about the nape of his neck. He leans along the marble countertop for support, carefully searching for the words to ensure a minor success.

“Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had some of your food. ‘M kinda hoping you’d share a plate…or two.”

You offer him a measly nod before switching the stove off, acknowledging him without passing on a single glance.

“You remember the drill. Get a bowl and I’ll serve it to you, Eren.”

Slow steps around the counter lead him to you, extending his reach to the cabinet closest to your head. His intention was to grab a bowl, but he’s become too interested in something—something far more familiar than your meal.

That’s when a faint heat flickers at Eren’s cheeks, a shushed gasp cutting through his teeth.

It’s a scent, hints of vanilla and rose whisking towards his nose. He knows the smell all too well, a lotion you insisted on using day in and day out. He’s so eager for the memory that Eren’s nearly gone dumb, bringing his chin to ghost past your shoulder.

He’s so close to you, so close he can just about feel that plush heat radiating from you. If not for the bowl in his hand, Eren’s chest would’ve caved at your spine, the front of his gray tee clinging to the open back of your lavender silk slip-on. It’s wrong of him to say but Eren’s already parting his mouth with the syllables of his deepest thoughts.

“God, you’re so beautiful. Everything about you is just how I remember it too, almost like…we’ve never split.”

A white-hot streak of heat strikes the highs of your ears and cheeks alike, a stifling breath clogging your lungs. It’s in tandem with every fiber in you running to a point, a body numb off the sheer rip of shock.

“What did you say–”

The words just waiting to spill into the air find themselves coming to a sudden halt, courtesy of Eren’s touch. The warmth of his palm curves along your shoulder, the pad of his thumb drawing lazy circles into your supple skin. He’s even, slipping a few of his thick fingers beneath the thin strap of your dress.

He misses you—that much is apparent to your eyes.

You know Eren too well to ignore all his whims, noticing how the soft purrs coo from deep within his chest. He’s fallen at his own impulses by simply closing the space between you both. His breath curls at the hairs on the back of your neck, the rain of chills licking across your spine.

Yet, you can’t help but sympathize with Eren; empathy not being that far of a cry either. It’s a simple touch but your heart beats harder for this than a kiss from your newest beau. That same gentle manner he possesses follows through to his words, another compliment rolling off his tongue.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N. I said you’re so beautiful, I don’t even know how to act around you. And I hate to say it but… I feel like you keep calling me back, but I know I don’t deserve it—I don’t deserve you.”

“What are you doing, Eren? We talked about this…I’m so…happy with Jean now. We had our time, can we just accept that and keep things the way they are?”

“You were happy with me, you told me so yourself. The new guy, he’s nothing like me.

I’ll drop to my hands and knees if you need me too, but I’ll keep asking and pushing ‘til you come back to me. I love you too much and too hard to let this be how we continue in life.”

Your mouth parts for another retort, your mind hard at work for a sharp comeback. It was strange to hear this from Eren, the man who drove you to leave with your shared children.

He’s the reason why something so beautiful failed, dragging along two innocent souls into the mess. So why? Why work so hard to merely push you away all over again?

“You should be the last person talking, Eren. You can’t just waltz on in here and—”

“Shhh, can we just enjoy this moment? No distractions, nothing to interrupt, just us…like how it used to be.”

A harsh gulp consumes your throat. Your chin fell into a tilt, meeting Eren’s eyes for the first time that night. Eren’s so at peace now with you in his care, his eyes telling you all.

The haze you’ve so accustomed muted itself from his sights, granting for the whimsical glimmer to dot his pupils. It’s enough to claim all consciousness from you, your lips pushing out a breathless gasp in response.

“You’re gonna make me do something I’ll regret, aren’t you?”

A chuckle rings from Eren’s lips as you voiced what concern came into your mind. His hand loosens from your shoulder to drag past your skin, the curved tips of his fingers brushing along the pulse of your throat.

The heat that bleeds through your skin is one, a gut-wrenching lust that only he could ever cure. The pretty tint in his pink lips exudes an enticing plump, the plush mounds ever so slightly brushing past your own.

“No, gorgeous. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. Just like you wanted a divorce is the same way you want this too—and I was never one to deny you anything. You can lie and make up some excuse, I’ll listen to it, promise I will. But as for this unspoken thing right now, you know I only believe in the inevitable.”

“And what’s that? What's inevitable for us?”

The words weren’t given the chance to grace the air before Eren brings his lips to yours. It’s the overwhelming weight of his body cocooning yours and the push of his guiding kiss that runs your blood head and your mind hazy.

His hand braces at your waist, keeping you closer than ever. The thrill is the very thing that brings fear into your heart. You know it’s wrong, ultimately ruining your new relationship for something that could’ve been great.

But when Eren’s grip on you is that of possessive implications, you can’t help but give into him and his whims. That’s why you allow yourself to let go, let go of everything that wasn’t him. The lead is all for him to take without any interference or doubt.

All it takes is a breath for you to relax in Eren’s hands, desperate to take every little thing in. From the way he teases your bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue to his hand trailing along the side of your body, it’s all with an inflaming rush claiming your body as a prisoner of an unruly lust.

It’s not until you find yourself laid along with the fluffy cushions of the velvet couch that Eren breaks away from the moment to answer your smoldering question. Eren’s chest is enough to pin you down, his body.

He can share in your restlessness, tugging at the pesky dress with just a sliver of his strength. Just the straps give way to his antics, leaving the supple mounds of your bouncing tits to greet his blinded eye.

His hands fled to cup at what he could, trapping your breast between his palms. He’s reluctant to peel away from your lips, but there’s something else that peeks at his attention. It began with a kiss between the valley of your chest, only to trail inwards to your flushed nipple. His teeth catch onto the stiff peak gently, using a teasing pulse to nip at the tender peaks.

The sensation alone is filled with confliction, the fine line between pleasure and pain blending into its own silver lining. He’s barring your nipple between his teeth so crudely but swipes at the sensitive slit with his tongue.

He’s even intent on leaving his mark on you, preying at the top of both your tits. A throbbing suckling takes place to work at Eren’s jaw until plumped blotches rise to the surface of your skin.

“Think Jean would get mad if you had a few marks on you?” the rhetorical question bringing about foolish giggles from you both.

As satisfaction finally reaches its heights in Eren’s favor, he retreats back onto his haunches for a moment, dragging your dress to reside around your ankles and off into the room. His hand clutches at his jeans’ clasp when something foreign hits him, a thought so crude he simply had to ask.

“Tell me Y/N? When was the last time you and Jean fucked?”

“It’s been…awhile. He’s so busy with work and all that I can’t seem to get even a second from him

“See, that’s where I, too, messed up with you, not giving my pretty baby all the attention she needs. I bet you’re just all pent up, can’t even use those fingers to get off how you need to.”

Eren’s words act as a distraction for you, pulling your attention elsewhere. It’s a distraction so great that you didn’t even notice your panties pulled from your hips or how his jeans now sat midway of his thighs, the plain tee rolled below his bulging pecs. He doesn’t feel too compelled to, but the doe eyes of desire tell him otherwise.

“You wanna see more of me, hm? ‘M even supposed to be this close to you right now, Jean might find us right when I’m fucking my cum nice and deep into you. And well…you wouldn’t want that, since he makes you so happy, right?”

The whimper that leaves your lips is deathly, your small hands crashing against his chest. All Eren can do is grin, grin at the way you’ve fallen at his hand. He can’t deny you sadly, stripping free of what clothes did remain on his body. He groans in a faux aggravation as he hunches over you once more, the head of his cock nuzzled between your pried inner thigh.

No, rather call it tears of a hidden relief, the pearly rivulets pearling right between your thigh’s crease. He’s making a mess of himself at the thought of you, whining for him just like the good ole days.

He’s nearly driven mad out of a desperate urgency, wanting the walls of your pussy to flutter around his girth. But such thirst isn’t without consequence, Eren has to remind you who held the power amongst you both.

His hand ghosts over the fat lips of your cunt, the pad of his middle finger mischievously slinking through the coddling clasp of your pussy’s essence, only for the remainder of his fingers to follow through with a harsh slap right on the bulb of your clit.

“Beg for me, baby. Y’know I’d give you the world, but you gotta tell me what you want, ‘kay?”

He knows it stings, the throbs weeping into his digits. He’s persistent on getting what he wants and knows exactly how. Unlike Jean, Eren knows that the stirring of your clit gets you each and every time. It serves as the perfect explanation as to why his digits almost fall back into place, the pad of his ring and middle fingers drumming at your hood.

He’s lazy at first, just grazing the flush pearl with laggard swipes. It’s practically the cutest thing to him, playing with your clit as if an orgasm wasn’t the result. To the eye of another, one could have come to the same conclusion too with the way he toyed with your pussy. His digits lose their hold over your clit for the moment, reaching out to pry your lips apart.

His touch spreads down to your folds, the silky sheets hugging around the digits. He even arrived at your entrance, thumping at the slit with his finger’s pad. When he does return to your clit, it’s not with the same care-free nature he began with—far from it.

The lazy circle grew into something related to art, sparsity replaced with strategy. He’s careful, only ever nudging at the perked bulb when. He can feel the blood rushing to his touch, forcing your clit to peck at his fingers uninvitingly.

“E-Eren, please! P-...Please fuck me, I really need it–fuck–give it to—”

“Aww, look at you. I thought you’d never ask!”

Eren rips his fingers from your puffy pussy just to latch onto his cock, smearing your slick along his shaft. The angle he brings himself to is high, ensuring he’d hit all your sweet spots with a single drive.

Eren doesn’t even bother to tease you anymore, he’s so drunk off how pretty your pussy gushed with a cry that he’s already introducing you to the head of his cock. The fat crown of pink sinks right through, a reaping squelch trapping his cock inside. He’s compelled to fill you, hips diving without a lick of resistance.

He can tell of your struggles, walls clamping down just when he’s halfway in. That’s when he’s reminded of how cold it can be, the room’s temperature lacing around the unclaimed length greedily. He wants to snap his hips, end it all on his term, but your hands bracing his hips hint at another story in tow.

“Fuck! Y’re so big, Eren! J-Just give me a sec!"

“Nuh-uh, if I slow down, you aren’t gonna be able to see how. Remember now, how big your ‘Ren was and how nice he stretched you? I bet you’re feeling it now, pretty pussy can’t even take it all…but… you will, I’ll make sure of it.”

Your lips can’t help but unwind at his words. It’s the greed in your core and the spite in his words that force your hand, sending your digits to the lips of your pussy. Your fingers pull at the silky flesh carefully, the burning pricking at your slit.

“O-Okay, just take it easy on me. It’s s’ much fr’ me right now, but I can take it!”

“You’re slurring and I haven’t even hit your tummy yet…look who's cockdrunk, baby? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His taunts are paired with the endless fervor of his cock, the final stretch finally resting snug between your walls. There’s a relishing ring of a tainted white adorning the base of his cock, courtesy of your essence spilling around Eren’s shaft. He’s eager to watch every moment he has with you, pushing your buckling knees to your chest.

God, does your pussy look so perfect like this? So swollen yet still choking on the full brute of his cock. There’s little room existing among you both, considering how his pelvis smothered your clit without having to move.

He’s splitting you apart but here you are, taking every thick inch like a champ. You’re so tight around him too, just barely giving Eren the space to flourish. A suffocating heaven is all he can call it, the dark hues of vivid veins brimming with elation.

He almost feels bad for reeling back, pulling all of his hard-earned efforts from you. But there’s a lewd, near sinister, manner in how Eren chooses to go about this now. His hips snap to meet your own, burying his cock deeper than where he began.

Why, he’s so deep, he swears he can spot a bulge right from your tummy. That mere figment of his imagination is all it takes to spur him down the feverish road of bliss, bullying the stubborn clench out of your walls.

He’s pulling at all you’ve ever known, coaxing the overwhelming rouse to taunt your riled nerves, the tight entrance still clinging with every draw. Not to mention how each time his cock does return to its post, your jaw loses all hold to cry out his name. The clashes of skin prove his case furthermore, how the passion rages deep within his soul.

It’s not his fault you’re so warm, so wet, and so whiny for more. The enveloping heat has Eren’s body running hot, thriving off of a pure rush of guilt and lust. He should feel bad, for ruining what healthy relationship you created for his own selfish needs. But he can’t help that each drag pulls at his own mental, Eren falling into the damned state of addiction.

It’s at the height of your impending orgasm that Eren’s taking in just how fucked out you are. As numb as you are to everything in your environment, he’s aware of it all.

He can see the spools of drool rolling down your chin, joined with fat tears blotting your cheeks, and hear the subtle jingles of keys hitting the outside of your apartment. He brings his lips to your soiled pairs, mumbling off something he knows you couldn’t begin to acknowledge.

“Remember what you asked earlier? What's inevitable for you and me?”

His words lead through the door's creaks, the burly voice of one Jean Kirstein making his presence known.

"Y/N! I'm home! We have a few hours to kill before the kids are-"

And as numb as you are to what was to come, Eren can't bring himself to stop. No, he'd rather ruin you through the building tension, his hips rolling deeper than before. Eren wants to be as deep as possible, to force his cock to house your womb and numb you from the inside out.

It's the only way he sees that will protect you from the incoming onslaught of pain. But, he does offer you some solace, supplying you with a single fact that proves itself to be true.

“Well, it’s us...us coming right back together.”

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━ TAGS: @po3ticb3auty @dabilovesme @ebiharachan @kenmasbimbo @whore4mikey @pixelsanji @yooniluvbot444 @sleepy3 @itzgabs22 @slaughterakira @elnitta @woahhajime @tojidilfs @pulchritxde @tirzamisu @hannas16 @caribbeanwifey19 @auri127 @nekoriots @ladyackerman @ladyackermann @tonaken @wh0re4levi @ilaaishi @bloobrryktty @dukina @simpforerenn @dabis0bitch @kensgff @zorosbozo @maxx-15 @mysecretstash00 @your-next-daydream @23victoria @erensleftnut @missyasma @alyk19 @lordduckass @katsukismelons @savantsoulfinder @domaswife @0fingerlickingood0

wanna join my taglist? click here:))

#anime #x female reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #x black reader #x black fem reader #attack on titan #aot smut #aot eren #eren smut #eren jeager angst #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x black reader

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mouschiwrites · 5 months

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Hello! I'm uh the same person that you matched up with Jay for the matchup stuff, (It was very cute and amazing and I adored it) and I just wanted to request a reader x Jay where it's Christmas and reader is over at the monastery and they like each other but they're nervous to admit it so the other ninja (Lloyd is the mastermind because of his prankster antics) set up a plan to get them under the mistletoe and it eventually succeeds and both reader and Jay are super flustered and end up confessing to each other? Sorry if this is sorta rambly and confusing

This is such a cute request!! I hope I did it justice 🙏

Word count: 838

Ninjago - Kissing Jay Under the Mistletoe

You wiped your hands on your apron, smiling amusedly at the stark white handprints left behind. With your clean fingers you fixed the timer for the cookies to bake. In the meantime, you had to prepare the frosting.

You made a big batch, dividing it into smaller bowls and adding food dye. You set one aside to preserve the white color. In the other bowls you mixed up some red, yellow, green, purple, pink…

Blue. You stared into the rich hue, suddenly falling under some sort of spell. You found yourself frozen as thoughts of a particular boy filled your head.

Brown hair and freckles. A nerdy laugh, a lopsided smile. Enough energy to power a car—literally, if you took his elemental powers into consideration. And a name that brought a smile to your face as it slipped out from your lips.

“Jay…”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the incessant beeping of your timer. You huffed, irked at the disturbance to your daydreams.

“Oh, quiet, you!”

“I’ll get it,” Lloyd rushed into the kitchen suddenly, donning the oven mitts before you could. “Can you go help with decorations?”

You nodded. It’d be a while until the cookies were cool enough to frost, so you figured you might as well make yourself useful in the meantime.

Jay replaced yet another bulb on the tree. It glowed with new light. Jay tossed the old bulb into the trash and followed the wires until he found the next dead light.

He plunged his hand into his pocket, swiftly replacing it with routine efficiency. It lit up, shining bright f/c and enchanting him immediately. He froze where he was, hand poised above the trash bag, bulb still pinched between his fingers.

(hair length) h/c hair and s/c skin. E/c eyes that twinkled brighter than any light on that tree. A smile that could melt the heart of anyone lucky enough to see it. Jay felt his cheeks go pink as they appeared like a vision in his mind. He sighed the name that was ever musical to his ears.

Suddenly the bulb in his finger exploded. He shook his hand violently, cursing his fickle powers.

“Why am I the one doing this anyway? Is it because I’m the electricity guy?” He complained to no one in particular.

Just then, Lloyd jogged into the room, flustered as if he had just booked it there after finishing some other task. Jay decided not to ask about the oven mitt haphazardly tucked into his waistband.

“How about you go help with decorations? I can finish up with the tree.”

Jay gratefully emptied his pockets into Lloyd’s hands, multicolored bulbs practically overflowing from his palms. “Thanks, Lloyd!”

Lloyd got a suspicious look in his eye. It reminded Jay vaguely of the look he’d get when he played pranks as a kid, but he decided to ignore it.

Jay joined you in the threshold. You were both looking at an empty room. Well, empty of people. Boxes of decorations were scattered around, and a few had been put up already. But the room was still barren, as far as decor (and people) went.

“Who are we supposed to ‘help’? There’s no one here,” you observed confusedly.

“Maybe they went to the bathroom?” Jay suggested, still scanning the area as if someone would materialize if he stared hard enough.

“Ooh!” Nya’s voice came from behind you, making you both jump.

You were about to greet her, but the look on her face stopped you. She was absolutely giddy, cheeks pink, pointing above you with a little giggle.

You looked up.

Oh no.

“It’s mistletoe! They’ve gotta kiss now!” Kai appeared at the scene, shaking his sister while announcing it as if you weren’t five feet away.

You made painful eye contact with Jay. You both looked terrified.

“W-we don’t have to! It’s a stupid tradition anyway. Plus, no way someone as awesome as you would ever wanna kiss me—”

“What? Jay, you’re the awesome one! You’re handsome, funny, smart, strong… anyone would be lucky to have the privilege to kiss you.”

Jay blinked. “Is… is that how you really feel?”

Your face went hot. You dropped your gaze down and to the side. “Um…”

“Because that’s how I feel about you!”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. You stared at each other dumbly for a second, mouths agape, unmoving until someone shouted “kiss” again.

When you pulled away, you smiled at each other, remaining in a tight embrace until you registered the sound of cheering.

You blushed deeply, separating bashfully.

“It worked!”

“What?” Jay’s head snapped up. “Lloyd! I knew you were up to something, you scheming green devil!”

Lloyd couldn’t keep himself from laughing as he took a series of smacks and light punches from Jay.

You giggled as you watched them, though secretly you were grateful for Lloyd’s little plan. He sent you a knowing wink, which you returned discreetly. It might have been Christmas, but it seemed Cupid came early.

Thank you for this adorable request! And thanks for reading, take care guys <33

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #jay walker #jay walker x reader #jay x reader

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jackalopesao3 · 7 months

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😐 Mmm not digging Mephistopheles constantly being targeted by the brothers.

Idk I just feel bad for Mephisto. When I was a kid I was the friend that was constantly replaced and it stung. This poor fella was raised to be Dia’s bff. Literally that was to be his life’s purpose.

This whole exchange was just kinda weird. Like I get the truth serum wouldn’t affect Dia because he doesn’t lie but I just wish there was a bit more seriousness to it?

Also…why is Mammon pulling that particular prank on Dia and Mephi? That’s pretty cruel.

Edit: Someone brought up to me that maybe Mammon was trying to help Mephistopheles with problems - I’ve seen another post with that theory as well and while I’d love if that were the case, I don’t know that it is. Suddenly going from making fun of him in nearly every encounter to helping him within a few lessons seems odd to me. With the OG timeline I could see this being the case more than NB timeline as everyone’s been well settled in.

Or Mammon just targeted the two richest dudes for blackmail purposes (keep embarrassing secrets safe for money lol) or to get them to tell him their credit card numbers and Lucifer intercepted him before he could enact the second part of his plan.

There’s a lot of Mephisto bullying to be had lately and it’s kinda grossing me out. I get that he’s a rich, noble snob but it still rubs me the wrong way for some reason. Maybe because I was severely bullied for a large part of my childhood. 🤷

I don’t like bullies and when others gang up on one person and the other lesson with the brothers picking on Mephisto and now this is painting them in almost a bad light? I’m seriously not trying to white knight or whatever. He’s not one of my favs but it’s just bugging me.

And like yeah, I get it, he was rude to MC in the OG for a while but like he never ganged up on them with others. He literally just made some rude comments for the most part that doesn’t mean he deserves to be relentlessly bullied and made a constant target. I’d never wish that on anyone.

Anyways end rant. Please someone give this poor dude a hug.

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me spoilers #nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer #mephistopheles obey me #mephistopheles swd #obey me mephistopheles #mephisto obey me #mephisto swd #obey me! nightbringer #om! nb #om! nightbringer #obey me nb

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thatwasntverycashmoneyofme · 8 months

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𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗋

𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ‘𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇’ 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗏𝖺 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.

{ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 — 𝗂𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗇, 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒. }

silva did keep his word to himself, that he’d follow you around, lowkey borderline stalking you but it’s fine cuz he’s silva a fine ass dilf.

he’d let you catch him a good two weeks after the clacking of your sandals hitting the sidewalk as you stomped up to him a cute pout on your face. "wassup mister silva? why are you keeping tabs on me? am i your next target or are you a creepy old perv."

he smirked taking in your appearance, your hair now in a black wig with brown highlights to your butt and you wearing a band crop top and a long skirt with your beige sandals that clicked as your foot tapped against the pavement waiting for an answer. "i just see something i like, you seem to be using daddy’s money well."

he pushes hair that found its way in front of you to your back, the way his rough hand rubbed against your smooth dark brown skin made him throb in his pants. you look him up and down, he was no where near ugly at all and you could take him.. not in a fight this dude an assassin but ykw i’m talking about.

his whole family are assassins and that was something you didn’t necessarily want on your plate because what if you got too annoying or what if his kids think you want to replace their mom or some stupid shit like that? you just got rich and you didn’t need those problems.

but you told the little bitch of your thoughts to shut up and went with the slut who was talking about licking him three ways from sunday in any and every position since you spotted him. you grabbed his hand that rested on your collarbone gently to not startle the killer in him, your thumb stroking his palm as you looked up at him biting your lips before cheesing and batting your lashes.

"that man was my father but if you’re looking for a ‘daddy’ opening, it’s available." you watched his cat like eyes narrow as he studied your face, grinning, the dullness of his eyes and sunken, but somehow high, cheekbones doing something to you and he could tell. "is that right?" you nod your head slightly in a daze from the eye contact you didn’t want to look him in the eyes but it’s like you couldn’t pull away.

"well i’ll take that into consideration miss y/n." you ‘hmm'd’ when he pulled away, getting flustered when you noticed how close your two were, your checks and the tips of your ears running hot as you pulled your hand from his, folding your arms under your breasts which silva glanced at ofc and you looked off to the side before speaking.

"stop following me it’s weird and creepy, next time say it with your chest." he hums lips curling as he backs away slowly, to the untrained eye and you, it looked as if he were glitching leaving you with a "next time then." before disappearing completely. silva of course didn’t care what you had to say on the case of him 'following' you or whatever but he’d let up, doing the next best thing as he burst into the room filled with computers on top of computers.

"d-dad what’s going on? why’re you in here?" silva disregarded his second son swiping three female action figures off of his desk and closing out an obvious girls anime website as he strode behind him. "milluki i need you to find someone for me." the chubby teen gets into serious mode typing away on his keyboard. "of course father, who is it this time a crook? another assassin? a spider? chrollo? or killua again?"

silva leveled his voice giving away no undertone or motives the corner of his mouth tilted upward, hiding away from his son that faced the multiple screens. "y/n l/n."

#city.writes #black writers #black reader #black fem reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black yn #silva x black!reader #silva x black fem!reader #hxh silva #silva hxh #silva zoldyck #tw black reader #tw not for non blacks 😒

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