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mintmatcha · 6 months

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one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

1K notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 1

WC: 1350

CW: mildy raunchy talk

Dick/Danny/Wally

Wally still didn’t really get why Dick hated galas so much. The outfits were a little stuffy, but Dick always looked amazing in them and these days he found ways to have fun with the looks. The people could be stuck up, sure, but there were always lots of Waynes and other supes to talk to. And the galas could drag on a little, but Dick was amazing at finding dark corners to duck into and make out in.

The worst part, really, was the photos going in. That was mostly because Wally felt so utterly inadequate standing next to Dick, but he doubted Dick had any issue with that part. Still, every time that Dick begged Wally to come along with him to one, he acted as if he was going to his execution. For a guy who fought crime and had literately been at his own attempted executions before, it felt a little extreme.

“You know, we could still have the driver turn around,” Dick suggested hopefully.

“Put those baby blues away because we really, really cannot,” Wally said, but he softened his words by reaching out to twist their fingers together. “You have to be at this one, babe. Part of what they’re trying to raise funds for is your idea.”

Dick groaned and let his head fall back against the the black leather seat. It made Wally want to lean over and kiss along that length of neck as beautifully highlighted by the passing neon lights as it was, but he managed to resist. Dick really shouldn’t be marked up before photos.

(Which was a shame.)

“Hey, I’m with you at least?” Wally offered. He knew it was paltry compensation, but it was at least something.

“You are. Thanks for coming,” Dick said. He lifted their hands to press a kiss to the back of Wally’s hand. “I know—”

“Hey, I’ve said it lots before. I don’t mind coming to the galas with you at all. Where else am I going to get to eat so many tiny foods?”

“Tiny food is overrated.”

“It’s the best.”

“Speedsters,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

Wally elbowed Dick for saying ‘speedsters’, even if the driver wasn’t supposed to be able to hear them right then. Dick, of course, was completely unrepentant and just stole a quick kiss instead as the car rolled to a stop.

Dick took a deep breath. “Okay, time to look pretty, Wally.”

Wally’s ‘easy for you to say’ was lost to the sounds of flashing cameras and shouted questions as the door opened and Dick stepped out. Wally tamped down the urge to fidget and took Dick’s hand, joining him in the lights and noise.

For the most part, Wally was glad that he wasn’t expected to contribute to the conversations as they made their rounds at the gala. He got the basic ‘how are you’ or ‘so what is it you do’, but really no one wanted to know, not unless he ran into other scientists. Wally knew he could be a bit… much to talk to, so he let Dick lead for all the important conversation. Wally figured he could slip off to talk to the other nerds later, if they were around, but he’d stick by Dick for the first part at least. This obligation would probably wind down soon, even those coming in fashionably late had arrived by now.

Wally scanned the crowd as they headed up to the second floor to make sure they had caught everyone they needed to. Ah, there were some people he recognized from WE Research, as well as some new faces. They looked like they were having a good time. The group laughed and one of the people Wally didn’t know, turned with the act and looked over the crowd too. For just a moment his eyes and Wally’s caught.

His smile was brilliant.

Suddenly Wally found himself tipping forward, toe caught on the step. Only Dick’s quick reaction time saved Wally’s face from meeting the marble.

“Shit, Wally, you okay?” Dick asked, clutching Wally tightly to him.

Wally buried his blushing red face into Dick’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Dick said, drawing the word out. He guided Wally upstairs and into one of those dark corners, not taking his bracing hand off Wally’s back. Voice quiet, he asked, “Is it something from the… work issue earlier today?”

“No,” Wally said, but his word was muffled by the his hands pressed over his warm face. “I didn’t get hurt.”

“Okay,” Dick said again.

“Stop saying okay. It’s nothing. I’m just being… ugh.”

“Walls, sweetheart,” Dick pried Wally’s hands away from his face, holding them gently, “you’re worrying me a little here.”

Wally sighed. “I tripped because a cute guy smiled in my direction, alright?”

“What?” Dick asked. He covered his laughter with their clasped hands.

“I tripped because I’m an idiot and got flustered when a cute guy smiled my way.”

Dick pouted, still snickering. “You’ve never tripped up because of my smile.”

Wally just stared at Dick.

“What?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Do you really not know how many walls I ran into because of your smile, Dick?”

“No.” Dick was grinning now, bright and wonderful. “Give me a number here. Ten? Twenty?”

“So many, Dick, so many. So no getting jealous, you’re still way in the lead.”

Dick sobered instantly. He reached out and caught Wally’s wrist again, running his fingers along that too fast Speedster’s pulse. “Hey, no, you think I’m being jealous?”

Wally just shrugged. He did and he didn’t. He really didn’t know what to think. He didn’t think Dick was the jealous type, but it hadn’t exactly been put to the test. When this thing between them had turned from fooling around into something more they had agreed on an open relationship and worked out the details. And Wally would talk about someone being hot, sure, but they were always someone unobtainable. It’s Dick who had actually gone out and dated, or at least slept with, other people.

“Oh sweetheart, no,” Dick murmured, closing the distance between them to nothing. “I was just teasing. I think it’s adorable that his smile made you stumble— and at a ball too! That’s some real fairy tale stuff right there.”

“Okay, but fairy tales usually ended pretty horrifically,” Wally pointed out, though he could feel his own smile tugging at his lips.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Alright, a Disney style fairy tale then.”

Wally’s nose wrinkled. “Too wholesome.”

“Picky, picky, picky. An adult film knock off of a Disney story?”

“Dick!” Wally laughed and gave the other a little shove. The bastard didn’t even budge.

“Sorry,” Dick said without sounding sorry at all. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

“What?!” Wally squawked. “No! Dick, no, why?”

“Because you thought he was cute. It can’t hurt.”

“Yes it can! He’ll talk to me and…”

“Walls?”

Wally looked down at their feet, scuffing his banged up toe around. “He’ll, I don’t know, get bored of me? Or at least it won’t go anywhere.”

Dick ducked down so he could see Wally’s eyes. “Hey, no, sweetheart, why do you think that? You’re a catch.”

“I’m pretty sure only you think that,” Wally said.

“Lies,” Dick said, giving Wally a peck. “I’ll prove it. Come on, let me be your ‘wing man.”

Wally snorted at that.

“You know I’m a great ‘wing.”

“You are,” Wally said, unable to help the fond smile.

“Then come on. I know all your virtues, including how good you are at blow jobs. Let me extol them.”

“Dick! You are not telling a stranger I’m good at blow jobs!” Wally hissed.

“But you are.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

Dick backed up, tugging Wally out of the nook. “We’ll do a quick pass up here and then go find him. See if we can’t get you lucky.”

“I was supposed to get lucky with you tonight,” Wally reminded him.

Dick just shrugged, still smiling. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll still be around after you have some fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

AN: So I didn't really have anything else that fit Tooth-Rotting Tuesday in my current wips (not where they were at least) and somehow this got in my brain soooo.... hopefully you enjoyed it?

I love how gung-ho Dick is about getting his boyfriend laid. His plan is to get them started flirting and then just slip away. But will he be able to pull that off?

Sorry for any mistakes. A pressure migraine on top of my other migraine rolled in with the front yesterday so I am KOed.

Stay delightful darlings!

#dp x dc #danny fenton/dick grayson/wally west #rocket fuel #we're going with that ship name here personally lol #cause somehow I'm writing more of these three #tooth rotting thursay #not exactly cinderella

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angel-of-the-moons · 3 months

Text

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

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Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

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"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight smut

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moonlight-prose · 7 months

Text

✧ DRUNK ON YOU ✧

a/n: we just keep getting filthier as the fics progress this month. so i've never written spit kink this way before. i honestly didn't think i'd be into it, but there's something about this man that makes my brain fuzzy. this is listed as me wanting to get tipsy with torres cause i feel like he'd take care of me. i hope y'all enjoy!

day six - spit kink | kinktober 2023

summary: "after a long week of stress—your job taking more out of you thank you would have liked—you needed a night out. if only to spend time with him."

word count: 1k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, spit kink, spitting, swallowing, sir kink, dom!joaquín, fluff.

Two drinks. That’s all it took for you to wind up like this. Draped over your boyfriend at the club, tucked away in a corner booth, as he whispered something in your ear you could barely hear over the loud bass of the music. It thrummed through you, vibrating your entire body as you sat there, smiling at him with a hazy look in your eyes. Something he’d seen many times before.

“How are you feelin’?” he asked, running a thumb along your chin.

You grinned, leaning into his touch. “Good,” you mumbled, loving the way the alcohol sent warmth spilling into your body.

“Yeah?” He’d been sipping on the same glass of water the entire time you’d been there, already claiming the spot of designated driver tonight.

After a long week of stress—your job taking more out of you thank you would have liked—you needed a night out. If only to spend time with him. He pulled you closer, his hand splaying across your back, the warmth of it a delicious feeling. Part of you loathed the fact that your dress was keeping you from him. That thin layer of fabric stopping you from feeling his bare touch.

“I want,” you said, dragging a finger along his button down, picking at one loose button. In your hazy mind you made a mental note to fix it tomorrow—knowing he would let it simply fall off.

He nudged his nose against your cheek. “What do you want hermosa?”

The deep color of his brown eyes caught you in their hold, drawing you in closer until you couldn’t find your way out of them. Joaquín’s hand slid down lower, fingers brushing the top of your ass, and your breath hitched. Something now stirred in your chest, building slowly. Sensually.

“Want you to kiss me,” you breathed, curling a hand around his collar and drawing him in closer.

There was no resistance from him, because if there’s one thing he wanted more. It was to devour you. To drag you into the club’s bathroom and make you see heaven. He was as voracious as you—desperate to feel you in every manner possible. Which left you here. Sliding your lips against his and moaning softly when he took the lead—his hand grasping onto the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

Your heart fluttered, his touch making you want to drag yourself into his lap. The fact that you were still in public was the only thing that registered in your brain, keeping you from making a spectacle of this. To others you looked like two people in love. After all, it wasn’t odd to see people makeout in the club. But to each other…you were so much more. There were times you wondered if the word love could even describe what you felt for this man—what you knew he felt for you.

Biting down on his lip you pulled it into your mouth, sucking on it until his pained groan echoed in your ears. He licked into you, tasting the tequila on your tongue and smiling when it spread along his. There was no doubt that he was a good kisser, but you could feel the restraint in his touch. Taste the desire on his tongue.

“Kiss me,” you begged, pulling him closer until he practically covered your body.

He chuckled, running his thumb along your cheek. “I am bebita.”

You shook your head. “No. The way you want to. Please…sir.”

Something flickered in his eyes, turning them darker. The club’s neon lights illuminated him from behind, casting a blurry halo around his head, and you could feel the breath get knocked from your lungs. Joaquín was always beautiful. That was a fact you had no doubts on. Yet tonight—even through your drunken haze—he looked ethereal. Like a god come down from the heavens above to bestow a kiss on your lips.

Oh how lucky you felt.

His swollen lips parted, nose flaring slightly as he used his thumb to pull at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me.”

You followed his request before he finished it, your maroon red lips parting, tongue barely sticking out. As if on instinct you fell into that familiar space. Waiting for him to tell you what came next, what he wanted from you. He grinned, leaning closer and blocking you from the eyeline of everyone at the club—his thumb digging into your cheek.

You felt it then.

His spit hitting your tongue, coating it. Some landed on the corner of your mouth and before you could do anything, he was dragging it along your cheek, smearing your lipstick right along with it. Making a mess and giving you exactly what you asked for.

“Swallow.”

Heat trickled down into your lower body, slick spilling into your already drenched panties. And he watched you follow his order dutifully. Swallowing with a fucked out grin on your lips. He groaned, mumbled good girl, before he dragged you back, kissing you with a fervor that hadn’t been there before. He licked along your tongue, his hand digging into your hip to prevent himself from touching you further in public.

Moaning, you tried to tilt your hips up into his hold, but he held you down against the booth. Kissing you so thoroughly you felt it down to the very tips of your fingers.

“We’re going home,” he said, entirely out of breath—a flush spreading along his cheeks. “Now.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip and fluttering your lashes. “Okay sir.”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, before gathering your coat and purse, leading you carefully out of the booth. Even though you weren’t entirely steady on your feet, he still kept you close. Making sure that you made it out safe. He was ever the protector—always the one who made sure that you came before anything. That thought alone nearly made you drag him back to the bathrooms.

Five steps out of the door he leaned down, pressing his mouth against your ear, his arm tightening around your waist. His breath was hot against your skin, causing goosebumps to raise along your arms. But that’s not what made your knees shake, breath catching in your chest.

“My turn to taste you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along your waist—completely aware that the alcohol was no longer the thing you were drunk on.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x f!reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x y/n #my writing #kinktober 2023

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talesofadragon · 10 months

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 2.8K

Chapter 1 - Flat White | Varicolored Schemes Masterlist

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐖 York’s gateway to damnation.

Celebrated as the epitome of New York's nightlife, the club stood tall as a beacon of ecstasy. Its alluring neon lights and captivating fire displays worked their magic, casting a spell on anyone who entered. Not to mention how the bartenders' artistry in concocting sinful drinks and the hypnotic rhythm of the music had the power to transport patrons to the very edge of heaven's precipice.

Everyone loved Purgatory. Everyone except Y/N. She harbored not even a modicum of affinity for the newly inaugurated business. In her rather abashed opinion, Purgatory was a breathing disaster. The crimson walls reminded her of Christian Gray’s outrageous BDSM room, and the obsidian marble bar sparked memories of Voldemort’s reign of terror. Yes, black and red were colors that went well together, but the falu red walls were anything but flattering when the amber lights glided over them.

It was outrageous how long the waiting list was for a place as distasteful as this. Though the only redeeming factor, to some extent, was the quality of the drinks. But the bartender seriously needed to draw the limit for those who callously consumed alcohol as if they were born in Russia and had gained supernatural immunity against vodka’s kicks and punches.

Three guys had already attempted to take Y/N to the bathroom, which was a despicable shade of merlot, for a quick shag. And only one of the three walked away without the promise of a kiss from her pepper spray because he had been pulled by the ear by whom Y/N assumed was his girlfriend.

And to top it all off, Yelena, Y/N’s best friend, had disappeared somewhere in the crowd and wasn’t answering any of her texts. Feeling exasperated, Y/N retrieved her phone from her pocket. If Yelena continued to ignore her text messages, then it was time to make a call. Maybe the incessant vibration of her phone for a solid minute would finally capture Yelena's attention. The phone rang five times before Yelena finally picked up, and to Y/N’s misfortune, her friend didn’t sound alone.

“Please tell me you’re not on the phone with me while having sex with some guy.”

“I am not on the phone with you while having sex,” Yelena replied indignantly. There was some shuffling from her end of the line, audibly heard from the lack of blaring music. “I’m getting pizza with some people I met at the club.”

“You’re what? With who? And you didn’t think to tell me!”

“I’m telling you now.”

“How considerate of you,” Y/N seethed, gripping her phone tighter. She was already speeding out of the club, pushing her way through the drunken herd. “You couldn’t have informed me of your plans when you ditched me forty-five minutes ago?”

“No, because I didn’t have any plans forty-five minutes ago. I just had them five minutes before you called.”

Y/N inwardly groaned. Now that she was outside the club, she was certain that Yelena must have heard her. She forcefully yanked on the car door handle, hastening to insert the key into the ignition. "Seriously, Yelena? I can't believe you abandoned me for a group of strangers!"

"Hey!" Yelena chided. "I didn't ditch you for them. I ditched you for pizza."

“Yel—”

“Luigi’s Pizza.”

“Luigi’s! That’s all the way across town. Are you sure it's a good idea to go there with people you just met?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be talking on the phone while driving?”

“You’re on Bluetooth speaker right now,” Y/N fired back. She was starting to get visibly irritated.

“Good for you. Lock the doors while you’re driving, and keep the pepper spray close to you.”

Is she seriously going over a road safety protocol with me right now? Y/N thought. “You’re with a bunch of strangers. In a car that’s not your own. Going to goddamn Luigi’s at four in the morning! And you’re lecturing me about safety?”

“Yes,” came Yelena’s answer. Her tone was a perfect mix of exasperation and incredulity. “Besides, they should be more afraid of me than I will ever be of them.” Y/N couldn’t argue with that. “Now, let me focus on the road, птичка.”

“Are you really the one driving, Yel?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I am. You’d think I’d let some stranger drive me to Luigi’s?”

Y/N couldn't help but burst into laughter. It was such a quintessential Yelena remark. She was just about to caution her friend to stay safe when the call abruptly disconnected, leaving behind a resounding beep that filled the ensuing silence. She had to applaud Yelena for her dual role as both a nuisance and an entertainer.

Deciding not to bother and call again, Y/N focused on getting herself home. Fifteen minutes away from her house, she turned on her blinker and took a right turn. Unaware of the glass shards on the road ahead, Y/N let out a shriek when a loud popping noise flooded her ears. Her hands tightened their hold on the steering wheel as realization dawned on her: something was awry with her car. Its movements became increasingly hesitant, raising her anxiety levels with each passing moment.

By some stroke of luck, Y/N managed to park her car on the side of the road. Taking a few moments to collect herself, she focused on calming her racing thoughts. Without delay, she activated her emergency lights and cautiously stepped out of the vehicle. As she rounded the car, her gaze immediately landed on the deflated tire.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Frustration surged through Y/N as she swiftly retrieved her phone and dialed Yelena's number. The phone rang twice, briefly fanning the flames of Y/N’s hope, before the call abruptly ended. Trying once more, she stomped her feet on the road in frustration when it went straight to voicemail. "Goddamn Luigi’s! And goddamn you, Yelena Belova!"

When Yelena had invited her to Purgatory, Y/N didn’t think that she was going to be balancing on the edge of hell, her grip on sanity hanging by a thread.

She glared at her flat tire, her eyes wandering to the glass shards a couple of feet away and then to the dark sky above her. It was way too early for this shit. And while yes, Y/N did have a spare tire in her trunk, she had no idea how to change it. So, she did what any sane person would do in such a situation. She yelled out in frustration and kicked the goddamn thing.

After releasing her frustration, she got into the car and settled in the driver’s seat. Locking her doors and making sure her pepper spray was close by, Y/N started googling a 24/7 roadside assistance service. As her search results loaded in a flash, a sudden knock on her window stole her attention from the glowing screen, drawing her gaze to mesmerizing blue eyes on the other side of the glass.

Startled, Y/N jolted in her seat, instinctively leaning away from the window. However, her initial fear quickly transformed into astonishment as she focused on the man standing on the other side of the glass. He motioned for her to roll down her window, and she complied. Although the window only opened partially, leaving only a small gap, the stranger didn't seem to mind.

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted with a hint of a smile. His poised voice and penetrating blue eyes sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

She cleared her throat, trying to mask any hint of trepidation. "Hi," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt inside.

“I saw that you have a flat tire. Can I help you in any way?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing between him and her phone, unsure of how to respond. She waited for a moment, attempting to appear nonchalant, before replying, "Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather call for roadside assistance."

"At four in the morning?" He tilted his head slightly to the right, and Y/N felt a nervous gulp rise in her throat. She couldn't tell if it was his chiseled jaw or his imposing gaze that unsettled her. "If you get a hold of them, it might take them an hour to get here. I can fix your tire in five minutes."

Y/N gnawed at her lower lip, torn between the convenience of accepting the stranger's help and her initial hesitation. She glanced between him and the road, contemplating her options. Did she really want to stay locked in her car for an entire hour, or did she want to get home quickly and rest in the comfort of her own bed?

"Besides a spare tire, I don't have a repair kit or anything," she admitted, her expression now tinged with a hint of hopelessness. While she was willing to accept the man's assistance, she feared that it might not be enough to get her back on the road.

The stranger's lips twitched, forming a reassuring smile that strangely comforted Y/N. "Don't worry about that. I've got you covered." His words seemed to carry an air of confidence that put her at ease.

Nodding her head, Y/N reached out to open the car door. The stranger fell back a step, extending a hand to help her out of her car. She cautiously accepted it, surprised by the softness of his touch and the delicate gesture.

As soon as she was out, he let go of her hand. Though his touch was polite and fleeting, Y/N found herself needing it to anchor her when she finally focused on him. She couldn't help but be struck by his height. Despite having to lean down to face her window, he easily towered over six feet.

Blinking owlishly, she fiddled with her keys before pressing a button to open the trunk. When the stranger passed her to grab the spare tire, she noticed him motioning for the two men in the black car behind her. She bristled, eyes wary. Her shoulders immediately relaxed when one of them fished out the tire repair kit and handed it to the stranger.

“Here you go, boss,” the man with brown hair tied in a bun said.

He straightened his black blazer, offering a brief nod in Y/N's direction. She eyed him curiously, following his light steps. Turning her attention back to the blond man, she couldn't help but feel intrigued. "What's your name?" she inquired.

He looked up at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting her gaze before he replied, "Steven. Though most people call me Steve, ma'am."

"Y/N," she clarified, introducing herself while absently placing a hand on her arm. Partly rubbing away the intrigue that slithered through her body and mostly attempting to conceal the areas her short mauve dress exposed.

“Y/N,” Steve enunciated. His delicate and euphonious words were a stark contrast to his intimidating stature. He studied her, regarding the way she shifted from one foot to another. She bit down on her tongue, ready to react in case of any abrupt movement. To her surprise, Steve shrugged off his jacket and extended it to her. “Would you mind holding on to it? I wouldn’t want to get it dirty.”

“Sure.” Her voice came out breathless, caught off guard by his request. She took the jacket from Steve’s hand, noting how he moved his fingers around to avoid brushing hers. The action was both welcome and disappointing because, despite Y/N's guarded demeanor, she couldn't help but feel drawn to Steve's enigmatic presence and the subtle grace with which he moved.

“You can put it on.”

“What?”

Steve laughed slightly at Y/N’s oblivious state. He regarded her as she hugged the piece of fabric close to her body, noting the way the faint street light glided over her soft features. “It’s cold. And if you insist on standing in the open road, I’d feel much better if you kept yourself warm.”

Y/N's fingers clenched tightly onto the fabric of Steve's leather jacket. The warmth that surged through her body in response to his words was palpable, yet she masked her emotions with caution. "It's alright," she responded carefully. "Thank you, but I really don't need to."

"I insist," Steve countered, his gaze carrying an air of authority. She found herself yielding to it, unable to resist. As soon as she placed the jacket on her shoulders, her nose embraced the dizzying scent of sandalwood and bourbon. She dug her hands into the jacket’s pockets, feeling at ease in Steve’s presence. “Do you live far?”

“Fifteen minutes away,” she replied.

Steve was currently engrossed in adjusting the new tire, and Y/N took the opportunity to quietly observe him. Her eyes traced his skillful fingers as they gripped the tire, and she found herself captivated by his blond hair and the strands that fell gently across his eyes.

“New Yorker?”

She shook her head. “I actually moved here a couple of months back. I’m from Washington.”

“Really? That’s where I met Sam,” Steve remarked, gesturing towards the car parked behind them where the two men sat. Y/N’s gaze shifted to the tall, black man with a laid-back expression, whom she identified as Sam. “Him and Bucky, the one beside him, are my best friends.”

“Didn’t the one with the man bun, uhh, Bucky, call you boss?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, it’s definitely a long story,” he admitted, leaving the details unspoken. After a brief pause, his curiosity turned toward Y/N. “What about you?” he inquired. “Made any friends here?”

“Not much,” she hummed. “Except for a best friend who decided that forgoing a slice of Luigi’s pizza in favor of keeping me company would be sacrilegious.”

The roaring of Steve’s laughter was welcome in the dimly lit road. For a moment, he forgot all about fixing the tire, letting his attention fall on Y/N. His voice was full of mirth as he spoke, “Luigi’s is a godsend. Tell her to try the Brooklyn special. It’s my favorite.”

“Now I know what to get you as a thank you for your services.”

“Don’t you worry about that, doll.” Steve flashed her a winsome smile, and she just knew that the goosebumps on her skin were not caused by the crisp wind around them. I’m just glad to have crossed your path.”

As Steve spoke, Y/N watched him deftly dust off his fingers and tidy up the tools. The five minutes seemed to pass all too quickly, much to Y/N's disappointment. He efficiently organized everything back in its designated spot, and when she tried to lend a hand, he kindly gestured for her to stop with a raised hand. Meanwhile, Bucky stepped out of the car and retrieved the kit from Steve, who was now carefully placing the old tire in Y/N’s trunk.

“I really can’t thank you enough for this,” YN expressed sincerely.

Steve closed her trunk, leaning against her car with a radiant grin. “It’s no problem at all.” He fished out a card holder from the pocket of his jeans and offered it to Y/N. “If you ever need anything, or you lose your friend to Luigi’s and find yourself in need of someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Even if it’s at four in the morning.”

Y/N's gaze fixed upon the card, her eyes gliding over the elegant golden letters delicately engraved on the sleek black paper. The minimalistic design caught her attention, showcasing only the essential contact details. It held a certain allure, an understated elegance that piqued her curiosity.

“Thank you,” she found herself saying. She wished she could say more, but the whole encounter had left her astounded. It was a wonder her brain even managed to form two words.

Reluctantly, Y/N observed Steve nodding his head as he bid her goodbye. He took his place in the back of his car but didn’t motion for Bucky to move. It took her a moment, perhaps a moment too long, to grasp that he was waiting for her to safely settle in her own car before he would depart.

Immediately, Y/N jumped in her car and turned it on. She waved at Steve as he passed by her car and went on his way. Suddenly, a realization struck Y/N like a striking lightning bolt. Two thoughts reverberated in her mind with newfound clarity.

Yelena’s unexpected disappearance turned out to be far more favorable than Y/N had initially thought. And to add to the intrigue, Steve had not only left her with his phone number but with his jacket and an open invitation to call him whenever she wanted. The weight of these revelations settled upon her, igniting a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

The day was shaping out to be a good one. Or so she thought.

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 2 | Morally Gray

Series Taglist: @crazyunsexycool

From a "one shot" that was not supposed to exceed 6k words to a series, here's to hoping I make it a good one. Thank you for reading this! What are your thoughts so far?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

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doublesunsets · 9 months

Text

Wild Nights

Crosshair x female!reader PWP - NSFW Word Count: 2k

Request from @freesia-writes

(...) either Crosshair or Hunter taking their time absolutely tantalising a fem reader until she’s nearly feral… You can “finish” or not.

Note: Hopefully it gets close to what you had in mind, Free! I'm not so sure about the tantalising part, but there's definitely some teasing 😁.

I have no idea what happened here, Crosshair wanted that, don't ask me. It went a little bit out of hand, so I turned it into a proper one-shot. First time writing Crosshair, please be kind, he is hard (no pun intended). Extremely indulgent. Training room fantasies, am I right? Timeline is before Order 66, in case anyone wants to know.

This was so much fun, thank you again for the request! 💜 -Sunset

✩Ao3 Link

The drops of sweat fell down your neck as you tried to stabilise your heart. You knew what to do, deep breath, one, two, let it out, and your heart slowly went back to its normal rhythm. The rain threw itself to the floor to ceiling window of the training room, while the waves crashed as well, making it impossible to distinguish which way was the water coming from. You hated being stationed in Kamino, it was like being trapped inside a gigantic washing cycle. Only storms and sleepless nights spent alone in a training room.

“Odd hours for a training session.”

The deep voice startled you, and you turned around quickly. Its owner was watching you, lounging at the door like a wave just brought him there. He was… strange for a clone, was he even a clone? Maybe he was a bounty hunter like you, but then why would he be wearing the black glove of the Republic? He had to be. Those muscles were too perfect to not be engineered, and those legs looked good enough to—

“Are you done?”

You spluttered, embarrassed at being caught ogling him, and put your hands on your hips in an attempt to command some respect. “Identify yourself, trooper.”

“Crosshair.” He squared his shoulders and entered the room, letting the door slide close after him. “I know who you are, I’ve seen you training regs.”

“Is that what you want? Some training?”

“There’s nothing you could teach me.” He took a studiously slow step towards you and you repressed the urge to take one back. Something about the way he moved made him look dangerous, even if he was unarmed. “But there is something that I want. You.”

“Is that so?”

“Let’s say, I have you in my scope.” The mirth in his eyes told you there was a joke there that you were not getting, but the tone of his voice didn’t let any doubt about what he was actually saying.

“Please, you wouldn’t even know what to do with me,” your tone of voice matched his sassy one to your surprise. Why were you enabling him? Oh, Maker, were you flirting? Were overconfident clones your type tonight?

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a high contrast with the cold room. “We could make it a game. We could see how long it takes until I turn you into a whimpering mess.”

While he spoke, he started circling around you, a brief touch to your arm, his fingers drawing the curve of your hip. When he reached your other side, you looked over your shoulder to his warm eyes. By the suns, he was smoking hot. His white hair fell down on his forehead, and it was blinding under the neon lights of the facility. Blast it, if he wanted to play, you could play. What he was offering was definitely better than training by yourself, there was nothing wrong in taking it. You raised your chin and turned to face him, and he took it as the permission it was. He half-smiled, the corner of his lip barely pulling up, and circled your wrist with his fingers.

“Good choice.”

“You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, just let his fingers travel up, through the back of your arm, with enough pressure that the contact felt oddly grounding. From your shoulder, he followed then the angle of your collarbone to the hollow of your neck and rested his palm flat there, on top of your breastbone, his fingertips just grazing your neck.

It made you feel conscious about your heart, which was thundering against his palm. Deep breath, one, two, let it out. He made a non-committal noise, and his hand slid up your neck until his nails grazed the hair of your nape, his thumb resting under your jawbone. He put some pressure into it and you allowed him to lift your head.

Meticulously, he bowed his head to you and his breath fanned over your neck. You waited for lips that never came.

“Are you not going to do anything?” You told him, tone annoyed despite yourself. He was getting under your skin too fast for your liking.

“I am.” His lips were still not touching you, but for a second you felt the tip of his nose trace the skin under your ear.

“A conversationalist.”

Crosshair huffed and before you could make another sarcastic comment about it, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, making your back collide with his chest. His hand was grabbing now the front of your neck, still forcing your head up, which rested on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and felt his strong body at your back, a solid wall that burned like the scorching sand of Tatooine. His chest was still, almost like he wasn’t breathing, barely moving, and while he was not choking you, the strength and precision of those fingers was clear to you. A thrill went down your spine at the thought.

“You are a sniper.”

He actually chuckled at that, and got closer to your ear, brushing his lips softly against its shell, lowering his sibilant voice. “Clever girl.”

You reached back and clawed at his thighs, but he clearly wasn’t planning on rushing. He started tracing down your figure with his free hand, the curve of your breast, down your stomach, and over your hipbone. One finger sneaked itself under the waistband of your leggings, and stayed there. As a promise.

He barely had touched you but you felt your knees weak already, and refused to let him know that. Trying to break your resolution, his lips dropped to your pulse point, delicately, and a whimper struggled to escape your throat. You swallowed it down in a harsh breath, but your nails sank down harder into the firm muscle. He didn’t flinch, though, Crosshair carried on down your neck, turning them into wet kisses and leaving a trail that quickly cooled down on your skin. The goosebumps were because of that, you lied to yourself.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he hissed, almost like he was talking to himself. “Seeing those regs poor attempts at flirting with you was painful to watch. Someone as extraordinary as yourself deserves only extraordinary things.”

“And are you?” You breathed, wetting your lips. “Extraordinary?”

“You have no idea.”

A thunder reverberated in the room and you gasped, pushing yourself harder against him. His hand took advantage of it and abandoned your neck, travelling down to your breast, and started kneading it over your clothes.

The solid presence of his body behind you exuded power and confidence, he had you in his hands, quite literally, and he hadn’t needed to do anything. The most intoxicating feeling was the delicacy of his movement and what hid behind it. Because you could feel the restraint, the tension in his body. You realised, then. This man could wreck you, take you with the same violence as the storm outside, but instead he was waiting, like a snake coiled, ready to strike.

He knew what he was doing, he was waiting, looking through his scope. Waiting until you put yourself in front of his crosshair so he had a clean shot.

The bastard wanted you to beg.

You tried to breathe. One, two. Your legs were trembling. One, two. He bit your earlobe. One, two. He pinched your nipple. One, two. Dank Farrik.

“Crosshair, I need yo—“

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

In a smooth movement, his hand sneaked inside your clothes and grabbed firmly your whole cunt. A whine left your throat and you heard him snickering behind you.

“Still not moaning,” you told him, breathless, but steady.

“You speak with too much dignity for someone this wet for me.”

You felt his fingers slid between your labia, through that wetness that sure enough was there, probably since the moment those eyes pierced into yours. Finally, unhurriedly, he penetrated you with two fingers, finding no resistance, only a warm and drenched welcome. You wanted to scream at him to move faster, but refused to give him the satisfaction and grabbed his thighs, enveloping them completely this time, and squeezed hard.

“You are missing the show,” he rasped, while he started kissing your neck again.

It took you a moment to realise what he meant, his fingers were only barely intruding and his kisses were more a dragging of lips, but your mind was drunk with his presence. You opened your eyes and there, in front of you, you saw yourself. Reflected in the window, with the storm as a background, and Crosshair right behind you. One hand between your legs, while the other grabbed your breast desperately, he returned your gaze.

And he looked devastated.

The visual crumbled your resolve, without looking away you opened your mouth and the lewd sounds he wanted came out of it. He closed his eyes and buried his face in your hair, and you felt a sigh break loose. Crosshair dragged his fingers out of you, and dead on target went directly to your clit and circled it in tight motions almost violently. Your body jerked in his arms, after all the pent-up sensations the intensity hit you perfectly, and soon a fire began to concentrate in you, begging to spread out.

You were dimly aware of Crosshair humping your behind, panting heavily still with his face hidden in your hair, while the frantic pace of his fingers started to match the rhythm of his hips. Your moans were not the only sound in the room now and hearing him whimper against your skin was almost enough to take you over the edge. Almost.

Emboldened and a little bit desperate for your release, you lifted your arm and reached behind you, grabbing his hair and yanking until his face was next to yours. He hissed but it was silenced quickly by your bruising kiss, that he accepted enthusiastically. The moment your lips parted, his tongue invaded your mouth and you yanked at his hair again while a white heat spread like wildfire inside you. Crosshair swallowed your scream, and kept massaging you until you rode it out completely.

By the time you came back, he had stopped humping against you and was simply slumped over your shoulder, hugging you from behind, one hand still inside your clothes. You were still pulling at his hair, so you untangled your fingers gently and stroked the side of his head.

“I don’t know how this game of yours worked, but I feel like I won,” you whispered.

You heard a dry chuckle as his body vibrated slightly against yours.

Outside, the storm had subsided a little bit.

Your new assignment was supposed to meet you at Hangar-19 ten minutes ago. If you were lucky enough, they had left already and you could go back to bed, you thought to yourself, strolling leisurely through the halls of Tipoca City. You were not in the mood to start a several rotations mission with a new team.

The bastard, as you had started calling him, left shortly after your encounter with flimsy excuses about early calls. You had wanted to search for him in the database, only to realise that he never told you his number, so you had no way of finding him.

When you arrived at the hangar, an Omicron-class attack shuttle threw your hopes out into the ocean. Their owners, clad in black armour, were waiting for you at the ramp and one of them approached you while you tried to remember the rank and name they had given you. Maybe you should have read further than the two first lines.

“I’ve been told to meet with my new assignment here, Sergeant…”

“Hunter. We were expecting you, yes.” He turned and your eyes followed the direction of his hand to the rest of the team. “This is Clone Forc-“

“Crosshair!” You gasped as his white hair came into view when he removed his helmet. Crosshair smirked and puffed out his chest at your reaction.

“Ah! You know her? Nice!”

“This explains where you were last night.”

Your new assignment looked pretty interesting out of the sudden.

Tag list (reminder to let me know if you are not interested in being tagged or if you want to be included!)

@motte-the-goblin @fenharel-enaste @nahoney22

#crosshair x reader #tbb fanfiction #tbb crosshair #fic request #smut #star wars smut #sunset writes

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dear-satan · 1 year

Text

wife

Leon S. Kennedy x fem!Reader warning: fluff, Leon's alcoholism era.. that's all .-. note: I am downright in love with soft content with Leon.. I really need him in my life!

You closed the car door with a rather loud bang. You were angry… No, actually you were furious and you didn't even try to hide it. The clock on your phone showed two o'clock in the morning and you, instead of rolling from one side to the other in your warm bed, were just standing in some car park outside a dingy club. You didn't come here involuntarily, god forbid. If you could have, you would have trashed the place like in some superhero movie. However, you couldn't. Or at least not now, with him still inside.

Ignoring the bawdy comments from the youngsters standing in front of the entrance, you opened the door. Loud music immediately reached your ears and your nose twisted from the excessive scent of tobacco and vodka wafting through the air. "I swear to god. As soon as I find him, I'll kill him like a dog." you muttered to yourself in thought as you plunged deeper into the premises. You squeezed between the dancing people saying every now and then requests to move which they reluctantly complied with. With every passing second, as the neon lights robbed you of your ability to see, you cursed yourself and your good heart. You might as well have ignored the message and the incoming call by hiding your phone under your pillow. But no, you were too good a person to ignore it. Which is exactly what you regretted at these types of moments.

You finally reached the section where the tables were and almost immediately noticed Leon sitting in the company of presumably drunken colleagues from his job, about which you knew absolutely nothing. In fact, you knew really little about Leon himself and your relationship with him was…. Quite complicated. You had only known each other for a short period of time, over a year, and yet during this time you had become something that was difficult to define. You were supposed to be friends, really good friends who could rely on each other even in the worst moments, but there was no shortage of flirting, dirty jokes or nice nicknames such as "darling" "sunshine". However, Leon in your humble little opinion was a really handsome man and somewhere, deep in your mind there was a desire to bond with him. The vision of spending the rest of your life with him really brought a smile to your lips but you were afraid to do anything more to clear up this fucked up arrangement between you. That's why you stood in front of him with your hands gripping your hips.

"Leon Scott Kennedy." your serious tone broke through the loud music drawing the attention of his colleagues as well as Leon himself, who smiled drunkenly, though really sweetly, at the sight of you.

"Honey! How good that you're here already." he spread out his arms as if he wanted you to throw yourself into his arms with the intention of hugging him…. Unfortunately, in his plan he didn't take into account the table that separated you. "That's the Y/N I was talking about, my wife."

Wife.

"Come on, Kennedy. That's enough." You rolled your eyes coming closer "Let's go." you commanded extending your hand towards him. You really didn't feel like pushing your way through guys even more drunk than Leon himself.

You were surprised at how easy it was for him to rise up and grab your hand like a small child. You squeezed it tightly and directed your steps in the direction from which you had come. The people who before had been reluctant to seat you this time pulled themselves apart, wanting to make it easier for you to guide the drunken Leon towards the exit.

"You're my guardian angel," he muttered as you opened the door letting him out first. He greedily took in the fresh, rather cool air into his lungs feeling no small amount of relief. After all, his nose had been irritated by the smell of cigarettes and alcohol for several hours so taking a drag on something else was a real pleasure for him.

"It's not your wife anymore?" without waiting for him you started for your car, opening it with the remote control you kept in your jacket pocket. You opened the passenger side door for him waiting for him to get inside rather clumsily. You closed the door behind him and then took the driver's seat yourself letting out the air with a swish. "Last time."

"Excuse me?"

"That's the last time I'm picking you up like the mother of a spoilt kid Leon." you sent him a look that few have experienced "I understand, hard work. I don't interfere but for fuck's sake…. Don't call me out every time you're unable to walk home alone. I'm not your guardian angel and even less so, a wife to be at your every shitty request, Kennedy." You watched his blue irises darken and his expression momentarily become serious. His one eyebrow was much higher than the other. This time it was he who sent you a serious look that dominated that of yours.

"Do you think I'm playing with you?" he asked suddenly, and his low tone sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yes, that's what I thin…" you were prevented from finishing by his warm lips mussing yours. For the first few seconds your lips were motionless. You were simply shocked by his sudden move towards you which, to be honest, you really liked. You returned the kiss at the last moment and your hand tangled in his dark strands of hair, drawing him closer…. As far as it was still possible.

This pleasure lasted a minute, well maybe two. When your lips pulled away from each other, a thin thread of saliva still connected your lips, making you blush slightly. After all, Leon was drunk and this bold gesture was caused solely by the percentages bubbling through his veins.

"Lee.?"

"You're the most wonderful woman I've met in my entire shitty life." he grasped your hitherto laid on the steering wheel hand in his. He slowly began to roll circles on top of it causing your heart to palpitate. "And like I said in the bar. You are my wife. The most gorgeous and beautiful one I could ever dream of." With his words, all your previous anger passed into oblivion.

"Silly you…" you smiled lightly capturing his cheek with your other hand "You are drunk…. Besides, how can I be your wife when we're not even together…. We don't even have rings!" you laughed, realising how stupid that sounded. However, as if on cue, Leon reached into his pocket and put a silver ring on your heart finger and then took out a chain from under his shirt, on which hung the same ring, only slightly larger than the one on your finger. At this sight your eyes opened wider and your breath stopped in your lungs. "You're kidding…" You literally couldn't believe your eyes.

"No." he smiled and placed a gentle kiss on your hand "I've never been so serious, love. And I assure you I'll tell you the same thing tomorrow."

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon x you #character x reader #character x you #comfy and cute #i really fall in love #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #fictional story #thanks for reading #soft content #fluff and romance

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chaoticspeedrun · 11 months

Note

do you think we could have a donnie x gn! yokai! reader where he notices that the reader’s tail wags whenever he compliments/praises them (especially for their smarts) but doesn’t really draw attention to it? what kind of yokai they are is ambiguous.

please, and thank you

Rise! Donnie and yokai reader with a tail, headcanons.

AN: Hi, hello, hey I saw the treasure planet art you commisioned and I am SO jealous <3 Hope you like this!

Pairing: Rise! Donnie x GN! Reader

Type: Headcanons

Summary: Donnie realizing you wag your tail whenever he praises you.

Warnings: None.

MASTERLIST

Donnie, despite what he may say, wasn’t too observant, much less with how other people acted, however you were an exception to that rule.

From the moment he met you he was curious about the type of yokai you were, so of course he’d spend time observing you and anything of your person that made you different from humans, mutants or yokai he had met so far.

Which is why he started noticing your wagging tail.

At first when he noticed that reaction from you he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what had caused it, so he became more observant to catch it if the event repeated.

Which it did, plenty of times the more you two interacted, and while at first he was just curious and examining those reactions, eventually he started to find it cute.

However, once he had enough data to realize your wagging tail happened after his compliments and praises he started getting gddy and smug every time it happened and tried to make your tail wag as much as he could.

He didn’t even notice how flustered you were each time with how focused on your tail he was.

But he was especially smug and proud when he realized those reactions were reserved mostly to HIS compliments and praises to you.

He was elated.

And considering he is not that good at detecting people’s moods this was a sort of lifesaver he could use in your friendship, detecting patterns of what you enjoyed or you just acted like you enjoyed by the movement of your tail, it was a bright neon sign for him to know you were happy, and he realized after a long time that he himself got happy whenever he saw you wagging your tail.

Maybe if he keeps observing the patterns he’ll figure out the way to confess to you with the highest success rate.

#rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise! donnie #rottmnt donatello x reader #donatello x reader #donnie x reader

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transdruid · 4 months

Text

How to Get Better at Tarot (and other divination)

If you often find yourself stumped with a reading, or you're just getting started and are totally lost, this post is for you! I'm using tarot as a base, but this guide will help you learn how to improve your reading skills of any divination. I'm basing the points in what I've struggled with in the past, as well as stumbling blocks I often see other people get stuck on.

Step One: Practice. You hate this advice, I know, but it is the only way to actually get better. You have to fuck up. You have to try again, that's just how the world works. Sorry. Getting good at anything, but especially something as amorphous as divination, takes years. I have been practicing tarot for nearly five years, for less than half that time have I felt the click of confidence. Tarot is an investment!

Okay. You get it. You have to practice, but how do you practice? What can you do to make your practice more beneficial? How do you get the most learning you can out of every reading? Let's dig in!

Use Smaller Spreads

Simplification is your friend. If you draw too many cards, it muddies the water. Think of your reading as a bowl of water, and each card you draw as a drop of color. If you add one drop of red, and one drop of blue, the answer comes through as a clear purple. But if you start adding more and more drops of every color you can think of, the colors get all mushy and gross. If you frequently find yourself drawing more than four or five cards for a spread, chill! Your don't need that many, I pinky promise. As you gain confidence, you can add more cards. The goal here is to get clear answers, and pulling twelve cards is not going to get you there. I recommend sticking to one, two, or three card readings. Remember that tarot decks typically have 78 cards; when you get up to ten or more cards, you're pulling a significant portion of the entire deck. No wonder it doesn't make sense!

Ask Better Questions

There are good questions to ask your cards, and less good ones. For a start, tarot is not good at yes/no questions. If you are expecting a yes/no answer, turn to something like a pendulum or a coin toss.

Okay so that one is a bit obvious. Let's dig a bit deeper. When you pull out your cards, take the time to sit and think about why. What do you want out of this reading? Think about what cards are in the deck; do any of them actually work to answer the question you have? For example, if you're doing a deity confirmation, simply asking "who are you?" and drawing a card isn't going to work very well. There isn't a card in there with "Dionysus" written across it, and there are infinite possible answers. Instead, think about what could point you in the direction you need. "What's your vibe?" works a bit better. Then we could get a card such as The Devil, to stand for the indulgence and physical delights of wine. If this were the first question (who are you?), your first instinct would be 'ohmygoditsthedevilhimself! This spirit must be evil!' Instead, you know that the vibe is about something maybe a bit mischievous (taboo, even), or someone that was cast as the devil somewhere in history. Combine that with something like the Three of Cups and it's practically a neon sign saying "Hey! My vibe is about having a good time! Let's drink and party!" which leads right to my homie Dionysus.

Question phrasing is important. When you go into google and type in "Tarot Spreads" you get a lot of junk that tries WAY too hard to sound super smart and spiritual. "What part of myself do I hide from observation out of fear and/or shame?" Can be boiled down to "What am I ashamed of?" When I started tarot, I got most of my spreads by googling "tarot spread for ---". This works, but I often found myself pulling the cards, looking at the questions, and realizing I didn't actually know what the question was asking. If you find yourself in the position, try boiling down the question to it's essential parts.

Align Your Expectations with Reality

This ties into the above step, but I feel it deserves its own section. Tarot and divination are a tool we use to gain understanding of ourselves and those around us. Tarot is good for this! Play to this strength. Tarot can be used for practically any question, but there are some things that work better than others. Start with the things tarot is best at, then branch out to the more challenging questions! Think about what the cards themselves are able to say.

You should also be careful to consider if you should even be asking this question with divination. I have strict rules in place for what types of readings I accept. I do not use my cards to read the future. The future is ever changing, with infinite possibilities. I prefer to just let it happen. I do not do readings about school or tests (you're at school to learn! Not be told!). I do not do readings about medical problems. Those should be asked of a doctor. Morally, mixing the spiritual with physical health is not acceptable. When you turn to divination, ask yourself if divination is really the best way to get what you need.

Do Not Doubt Your Card Draws

Okay. So you've now thought about what you want from the reading, you've picked your questions, and now, finally, it's time to pull some damn cards. You shuffle, you draw, you flip, and --- wait a second, that can't be right?! Why did I get that card for this question?! I must have shuffled wrong, or picked the wrong cards!

Nope! You didn't! (Trust!)

Look at the cards. Observe them. Open your guidebook (I swear to god you need to actually use your fucking guidebook do not try to go without it oh my god--) and read the entire entry for every card. Sit with them some more. What jumped out at you in the descriptions? Trust your instincts! Meditate on them. If you don't get it, don't fall into the trap of drawing additional clarification cards. Remember the first tip? More cards equal a muddier reading.

Fine, you say, but what if the cards are really weird? What if they make less than no sense actually for real? Write that shit down in your journal, and wait until it makes sense. I'm serious about this. Sometimes readings only make sense months down the line, and sometimes it's above your current skill level. Interpret it to the best of your ability, and check back in six months later. If you're super impatient, try reaching out to someone who's ability you trust and ask their opinion! Just don't be offended if they say no. Interpretation is a lot of work!

If you (like I used to) continuously struggle with doubt about how/where/when to draw, how much to shuffle, and if you picked the right cards and maybe you should just scrap it and start over... Stop yourself. Come up with a routine and rules for the draw! Tell your deck "okay, one more shuffle, then I'm pulling!" and do that. You gave your deck the notice it needs to get its shit together, trust it!

Do Not Take the Cards Literally

You've heard this one. Everyone says it. But what does it mean? How do you not take the cards literally?

Let's start with the example everyone knows.

XIII. Death

Whoa! You say, scary! Well, not really. Death indicates the ending of something, but not necessarily a life. Perhaps you're graduating school, and saying goodbye to that part of your life. Perhaps you're ready to move on from an outdated way of thinking. It depends on the context! Death is about cycles, about closing one door so you can open the next. This is really where the practice is going to set in.

Let's take a look at another one that tends to really ruffle peoples' feathers.

"Oh shit! It's XV. The Devil!"

Is Satan himself in the room with you right now?! Probably not. Does this mean something evil or bad is going to happen?! Is this a sign that everything is cursed?! Also no. I've seen plenty of people balk and backpedal as soon as The Devil turns up in a reading, but really they're balking at nothing. The Devil does not mean some evil spirit is trying to trick you. The Devil asks you to interrogate the taboos in your life and in the society around you. The Devil says "hey, wanna buy some Deathsticks?" Sometimes the answer is hell no, and sometimes it's "Fuck yeah Obi-wan wants to party!!!" Remember back a few sections ago, and I used The Devil as an indication of Dionysus? That's because Dionysus is the god of wine, of the party, the physical indulgences that society tells you are wrong.

Learning to Not Take The Cards Literally is hard, and takes practice. But that's why we gotta practice!

Be Not Afraid (of your guidebook)

The guidebook loves you. The guidebook wants to help you. The guidebook is there to guide you! Use it!! Too many readers place too much emphasis on doing readings without the guide, on being independent, and not using the "cheat sheet". Look into my eyes. That's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Memorization is a completely different skill from interpretation. Memorizing will leave out the details, the little things you forgot (and unless you have a photographic memory, yes, you will forget things). Sometimes all I need for a reading to click is one word in the guide, something I wouldn't have thought of without reading the book. Every deck is different. That's why they give you the guide. Someone put so much effort into the design of the cards, into the meanings behind the art. When you skip the guidebook, you're ignoring all the hard work that went into it. Don't make that writers work go to waste. Don't make them sad :(

How To Make Your Interpretation Better

Okay. You're trying not to think literally, you've read the guidebook, now what? "Good" tarot readings are incredibly subjective, and everyone will have a slightly different metric. But this is my post so we're using my metric!

Good tarot readings give you more questions. Good tarot readings ask you to interrogate yourself, and look at the real and true answers. Good tarot readings make you learn about yourself and the world around you. Good tarot takes into account the symbolism of the cards and melds it with the words of the guide. So let's take a look at some symbolism.

The Ten of Sticks and the Seven of Sticks. Starting with the ten, what do we see? Some dude with some sticks. But wait -- he's holding all ten sticks by himself. His back is bent, his arms are full, and we can't see his face. The ten of sticks is about carrying burdens, about responsibility.

Now the seven. Some rando just holding a stick, right? Take a second glance. He holds the stick like a staff, a weapon, in a defensive position. He stands on a hill, and we see him fending off all the other sticks. The seven of sticks is about taking a stand for what you believe in, having the conviction to stand up on a hill and fight for it!

If you draw the ten of sticks, ask yourself if you're overburdened anywhere. Think about the responsibilities in your life, if they're enough, if they're too much. If you draw the seven, think about the things you believe in enough to climb that hill. Why do you believe those things so strongly? What drives you to the defensiveness behind your position?

Symbolism is another one of those skills that will simply come with practice and time! If you don't get it, don't beat yourself up. I highly recommend getting your hands on an app or book that breaks down both the meaning and symbolism of the cards for you to reference (Galaxy Tarot is my favorite).

Something else you can do to increase your understanding is to study readings other people do. I learned so much from watching my partner interpret readings (@knightofhylia <333). Look at the cards and the interpretation, can you follow along, or do you get lost? If you're lost, pinpoint what threw you off track and focus in. Pull the cards out of your own deck, lay them out, read the guide. Did you come to the same conclusions, or something completely different? Why? How? Which interpretation do you like more? Why do you like that one?

Divination will always be a highly personal experience. To know your cards is to know yourself. Tarot was not designed to be easy, it's an esoteric skill. By definition, the esoteric is difficult to understand and grasp to beginners and outsiders. The esoteric is supposed to leave you pondering, wondering, and asking more questions. With perseverance, you too can learn to understand the mysterious!

#Tarot #divination #tarot cards #cartomancy #card divination #beginner tarot #how to read tarot #tarot guidance

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writtenonreceipts · 5 months

Note

Hi friend! How are you? I hope this sparks some ideas for your secret santa: N.12 for Elorcan, please?

Hi! I've been alright, I survived my holiday weekend and am back to the usual grind! I hope you're doing well! Thanks so much for sending me this, I really did enjoy this one!

from this prompt list

Prompt: "H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”->I tweaked it just a little.

AO3 Link Here

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tear In My Heart

The gritty scent of cigarette smoke was the first thing Lorcan noticed when he entered the bar. Being this far out in the middle of nowhere Colorado led to no one caring about enforcing the law about indoor smoking, especially not the owner. Mort never seemed to care about that sort of thing and it showed. Lorcan doubted any sort of deep cleaning would ever rid the place of the stench so there was no use banning smoking. Especially not when it was accompanied by the sharp tang of alcohol and vomit.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere else to get a decent drink around here unless you sat out on your porch with your own. And even Lorcan didn't drink alone.

But there was another reason to come to the bar.

Eighties rock played through the speakers adding to the grungy atmosphere. Dim lights over the counter set everything in an orange haze. Even the neon lights of the different beer logos and other paraphernalia didn't add anything. Two pool tables sat in one of the back corners along with a dart board. No matter how few people were seated at the bar or various tables, it always felt overcrowded and tonight was no different.

All Lorcan focused on, however, was the woman behind the bar.

Her black hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face. He'd always found her beautiful, striking really, with her onyx eyes and pale skin, that sarcastic twist of her lips when she made a quip.

She hadn't noticed him yet, which was good, he didn't need to be caught starting. Instead, she was focused on pouring out a drink for the man across the counter from her. She laughed at something he said, though he didn't know what.

Lorcan felt his own blood heat at that and he strode across the hardwood floor in just a few quick steps. When he approached the bar, Elide finally noticed him and a smile lit up her entire face.

"Well, well," she said, sliding the drink to the other customer. "If it isn't Salvaterre."

"Lochan," he said. He took a seat a few stools down from the other man.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Dan," Elide said to the other man. She moved down the bar until she reached Lorcan. With her arms crossed she leaned against the polished wood so she could properly examine him. "You look like hell."

Lorcan rolled his eyes. It was true enough. This past week had been miserable. The small shop he ran had been struggling a bit and things at the ranch were not better. It shouldn't have surprised him, things always slowed down this time of year, but summer had been slower as well. And then there was the fact that he had feelings for the girl he could never have.

"I always look like this," he said. And because he was a bastard, he leaned forward, drawing closer to her.

"Yeah, you should do something about that," she said. Her endless black eyes stared directly into him as though she could see to his very soul. Then with a laugh she pulled back. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. He watched her go as she turned for a new glass, a bottle of whiskey.

Elide had always been the sort of woman he knew he could never have. She was good, first off. She came from a good family with a good background. She'd graduated high school with honors even though she had pretty bad dyslexia. Then when her dad got sick she'd dropped out of college and left everything to move back home and help her mom out with bills by working at a crappy bar that probably doled out even crappier tips.

As she assembled the drink she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just you tonight?"

"Nah, the twins'll show up eventually," he said. "And Rowan if he can drag himself away from another fight with Galathynius."

Elide snorted a laugh and she turned back to him with the drink. "Aw, upset your best friend actually has a life?"

"You know how annoying that woman is," Lorcan groused. He accepted the drink.

For the last year and a half, Aelin had been working at the Whitethorn ranch as a trauma specialist in youth and children for kids needing help in various forms of therapy. Rowan had inherited the business from his parents and for some reason thought it was a good idea to keep it running. Even if he and his lead psychologist did not get along.

"Yeah, that's why she's my best friend," Elide said drily. "She's a good person."

Lorcan doubted that but he'd shut up. There would be plenty of other chances to put his foot in his mouth tonight.

"I'll take your word for it," he said instead. He took a long drink, ice clinking gently in the cup.

"Well I am a very reliable source," she said.

And then she was gone to fix another round for a couple at one of the far tables. Lorcan watched her go, unable to look away from the sway of her hips or the sliver of skin that peeked out between the edge of her shirt and her jeans.

He only managed to tear his gaze away when the door of the bar opened and Fenrys Moonbeam entered. Lorcan knew it was him without even looking because Fen, annoying as hell, always made sure his presence was known.

"Lochan! How's it going?" Fenrys called, looping over to Lorcan. Behind him was the more subdued Connall, eyes glued to his phone. Lorcan had the sneaking suspicion that Connall was about to start dating someone. But being who he was, wouldn't talk about it until it was an actuality. Even quiet and distracted, Connall still managed to balance out his twin.

"Hi Fenrys," Elide called back. She kept with her current task of drink refills and checking the kitchen on a food order.

When Fenrys dropped into the stool beside Lorcan he smacked a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you're getting obvious, right?" Fenrys asked. "What's this? Three nights in a row?"

"He's not that much of a psychopath," Connall spoke, he dropped into the seat on the far side of Fenrys. "He puts a day between the visits."

"Shut up," Lorcan growled. He took another sip of whiskey, relishing in the bite as it slid down his throat.

Somehow, in some pathetic and sad twist of fate, his friends had learned of his crush on Elide. He blamed it on a night a few months ago involving too much tequila and spur of the moment round of truth or dare. It was pathetic enough that he was a thirty-year-old man playing truth or dare but to follow that up with the admission of having a crush? Pathetic.

He really had to get a life.

"You should make a move 's all I'm saying," Fenrys said. He snagged a half-filled bowl of pretzels from down the bar and dragged it closer so he could snack.

"He's right," Connall added, finally looking up from his phone. "She's not going to stay single forever. I heard Archer Finn wanted to ask her out."

Lorcan couldn't help his scowl. Finn was best described as being a player. One night stands, ghosting, playing games. He wasn't a good person. It was the one thing he could agree with Aelin Galathynius about. He certainly didn't deserve to even talk to Elide.

"Yeah, the scowl's real convincing about your feelings," Connall said.

"Archer's an ass," Lorcan said.

Fenrys laughed. "So are you and she still talks to you."

Lorcan kicked his chair. "Shut up."

"Man." Fenrys shook his head, brushing his blond curls from his eyes. "You've been obsessed with her for years. At this point it's your own fault if she gets picked up by someone else."

"I'm not--" Lorcan began.

"You have her shifts memorized," Connall said, "know her birthday, her mom's birthday, dude you got her flowers on her dads anniversary."

Lorcan was never telling Rowan anything ever again.

"Didn't you fix her car for free too?" Fenrys added, mouth full of pretzels.

In the last five years of knowing Elide, having moved to this town on a whim after school, Lorcan had indeed done all of those things. There had just been something about Elide and the first time he'd met her. It had been at this very bar, just a few months after her dad's passing. He hadn't been in the best of moods, admittedly that was usual for him, and she'd called him out on it.

Their friendship slowly developed from there where he'd learned all those things and more about Elide. He'd been in love with her as long as he could remember.

He couldn't say anything of course because he was Lorcan. He was the town miscreant who usually stayed on his property unless it was to come in for a drink. He managed the stables for the Whitethorn ranch and ran a side mechanic shop. Really, the jobs weren't stable and would likely only get worse from here. His father was an alcoholic, his mother gone since he was eighteen--he wasn't good enough for someone like Elide.

"She's going to figure out you're in love with her eventually," Connall said, "and what are you going to--"

Connall abruptly cut off with a rather colorful curse and Lorcan felt his blood freeze. He abandoned his drink and spun in his stool to find Elide standing behind them, half empty tray of drinks and plates in her hands.

Her eyes were too wide and her lips parted in shock.

"I-" Her gaze bounced between the three of them before settling on the floor. "I'll be out with drinks in a minute."

She dropped the tray on the nearest table and immediately left through the front door of the bar--not through the kitchens.

"Hell,” Lorcan muttered. He stood and punched Fenrys' shoulder for good measure. "Thanks for that."

"Connall's the one that actually said it!" Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan ignored him and launched himself out and across the bar to the door.

The cool air of the night immediately washed over him, clearing his senses of the heady scent of the bar. Overhead, a waning crescent hung in the sky with patches of stars filling the inky darkness.

He spun, looking for where Elide had gone. He knew she was still on shift and wouldn't take off without a replacement.

It didn't take long to spot her. She'd walked down the length of the sidewalk outside the bar a few yards away. Overhead, a streetlamp burned with pale light, illuminating her as she paced with quick, uneven steps. She tugged one hand through her hair, holding it out of her face as she muttered under her breath.

When Lorcan's boot scraped on the ground, she looked up. Her eyes were still wide and shock remained cleanly written on her face. Lorcan kept enough distance between them so that if she really wanted she could skirt around him and head back to the bar, but close enough that he could reach out to her too.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, because really that's all he really cared about, how much damage control he needed to do.

"Enough."

If there was one thing that Lorcan knew about Elide it was that she didn't shirk away from a problem. Even if she didn't like the situation or what may come with it. Just like now.

Her dark eyes met his and, for once, he couldn't read her. He'd gotten so used to knowing her little quirks that the radio silence unnerved him. Or maybe that was how it was supposed to be. Maybe he didn't actually know her and everything he thought he did know was more or less a facade, an illusion.

"Is it true?" she asked, voice soft and far more vulnerable than Lorcan was used to hearing from her. "Or were they just talking shit, I know how they are."

"I--" Lorcan scrubbed at his face, looking away. He didn't know if he could tell her the truth. If he did there was no guarantee of how she would respond. And he didn't know if he could take the rejection. Because something like this? It would ruin any semblance of friendship between them.

"Lorcan."

She wouldn't let him get away with the silence or the pretending to ignore what she had heard.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked.

"Yes." The hard line of her voice drew him back to her. With hands on her hips and the way her hair swept over one shoulder, Lorcan knew he wouldn't get away with delaying any longer.

The thing about it was that he didn’t like not being able to control the outcome of a given situation. And he knew more than anything that there was no controlling Elide. She was exactly who she was and would yield to no one.

Lorcan often put his foot in his mouth over so many things--especially when he had been younger. It simply became easier to act. Which was what he did then.

In two sweeping steps, he reached her. Lorcan cupped her face in his hands, feeling how soft her skin was against his own calluses. Her dark eyes gleamed in the streetlamp overhead, her full mouth opening in surprise.

Lorcan acted without thinking when he kissed her. All he was really focused on was wiping that look of mixed hurt and confusion from her face--to show her exactly how he felt.

A part of Lorcan thought she would shove him away, but instead her hands gripped the front of his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric to pull him closer. Her lips were soft against his, soft and warm and everything he’d imagined in all these years. And when she exhaled a soft moan, Lorcan nearly broke at that sound alone.

One of his hands slipped into her hair, the thick locks like silk in his fingers. His other hand went to her waist as he tugged her closer. He could feel her warmth and her soft curves and all he could think that he wanted more. More of her and more of what they could have.

“Lorcan,” Elide whispered against his lips. She broke away only to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily as she met his gaze.

He leaned in close enough to press his forehead against hers even though all he could think about was kissing her again and memorizing the way she felt against him.

“I’m in love with you,” he told her, voice soft. He’d never said these words to anyone before and they felt strange on his tongue. But he knew they were true and he knew that he had to say them at least once. And it would only be for her.

He felt her tremble in his arms and listened to the sharp inhale of breath she made. When she didn’t try and pull away from him, Lorcan felt a bit of hope rise in his chest. Instead, Elide tilted her chin until her lips brushed against his. The touch was barely there and hardly even a kiss but Lorcan swore he came alive with that simple act.

“It took you long enough,” she replied. Her dark eyes stared into him with a spark of that same fire that had first caught his attention five years ago.

When she kissed him she held nothing back. Her mouth was firm and insistent, her hands moving with determination until her fingers curled over his shoulders keeping right where she wanted.

And for the first time since he’d moved to this town, he felt like he’d finally come home.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tagging still is not functioning properly, so if you'd reblog/comment I'd really appreciate it! Y'all are so great <3

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #throne of glass #tog #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

Note

I saw that you had requests open uh-

Rise Leo with a fem reader that works for/with the purple dragons?

Either as like another coder or an artist for the crappy group of teens- lol

a/n: lovely anon, the amount of agony i have just experienced in the past few hours as i try to release my brain from its den of constipated creativity is all for you. I hope you enjoy <3 Also, idk how tf I'm still sick even though it's been like, 5 days. Am i fated to simply shrivel away? Find out in the next update!

|| ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ || ʀɪꜱᴇ! ʟᴇᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

Another day, another round of going through the same motions once again. I dread walking into the hallways drenched with the scent of overpowering cologne, where no one understands me. The smell burns like a thousand suns upon my being, making me shrivel away into a husk of mineself.

I despise the sunlight. It keeps me at bay, because the darkness is where I belong. It calls to me, draws me in like the everlasting comfort of father’s arms. If his arms were actually clean and comfortable, that is.

Ah, the classroom approaches my vision. I hesitate. Is it truly worth the risk? Alas, I must follow through for the sake of my family. If only there were someone who truly understands me, and sees me for my true worth hidden under this hood of mine.

Am I just fated to be forever this amazing at being undercover?

“Okay Leo, you can stop with the inner monologue now.”

“Hey, if reinventing oneself is this easy, why aren’t the rest of you here then?” Leo whispers back into his watch harshly, eyes narrowed into a glare directed at the neon light that depicts the time.

“We sent you in because Mikey would get distracted, and I’m not there because I need to make sure Donnie has parental supervision at all times. And the reason why Donnie’s not there is because he’d stand out too much.”

“That is true; it is hard to hide such genius away instead of dazzling the clueless students.” Donnie muses over the small speaker he installed in the watch, having created this gadget specifically for this mission.

“Now remember, Leo, your mission is to get in, blend in, and make sure that Kendra’s not up to anything good. There’s been word on the street-”

“A.k.a. April,” Donnie interrupts.

“That there’s been a newcomer. And you know what they say about newcomers; they’re always up to no good.” Raph ignores Donnie, his firm instructions making Leo roll his eyes.

“Chill out, guys. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m the best at going undercover! I’ll find what they’re planning and be out lickety-split!”

“Leo-”

“Oh, would you look at that! It’s time for class to start. Byeeee,” Leo cuts off his brother from saying anything further, quickly pressing a button on the side of his watch that ends all communication.

He breathes a sigh of relief, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sleek black hoodie. He eyes the color distastefully. The sacrifices he’s had to make for this mission are excruciating.

“Alright Leo, time to get your best emo goth phase going.” He mutters under his breath, using his elbow to nudge the door open and entering with slouched shoulders. He peeks out from under his hood to scan the classroom.

It’s packed with quiet students who stare at their monitors with eyes of focus. He’s pretty sure they don’t blink. He sucks in a nervous breath through his pursed lips, wandering around until he finds a seat.

He glances around. The number of students around him is sparse, providing him with some form of relief. He’s secured a spot to survey the scene. Now, to find the little troublemakers that call themselves the Purple Dragons or whatever.

He does a quick spin in his chair, hands on the top as he balances himself on his knees. He frowns when he doesn’t see them, only to pause once his gaze lands on a group at the front.

One, two, three, and four, he counts off mentally, pausing when he realises something’s amiss.

Four? There weren’t four the last time he checked. He vaguely recalls Raph’s words from earlier about some sort of newcomer. Ah, this must be her!

But once you turn your head, he forgets everything entirely.

No one told him that the newcomer would be pretty.

He watches as you scoff at something Kendra says, leaning back in your seat as your fingers fly across the keyboard so quickly that all he registers is a blur.

She’s pretty, so what? Don’t let it distract you from the mission, goth Leo. You’re here to flirt- I mean, find out what Kendra’s up to, he chides himself. He sits back down in his seat when the bell rings, slumping against the chair. The very picture of refined laziness of a high schooler that cares for nothing.

You gather your things and stand up from where Kendra, Jeremy, and Jason had gathered around you. “Look, I’ll continue debugging the programme later, okay?” You promise, Kendra nodding in satisfaction before she lets you go.

You breathe a sigh of relief, walking away from them and scanning the classroom for any empty seats, preferably away from the new gang you’ve suddenly found yourself a part of. You spot an empty seat at the back next to a student you’ve never seen before.

You raise a brow. You know everyone in this classroom, already having familiarised yourself with their faces. But they’re someone you’ve never seen before. You make your way over, unable to contain your curiosity at their getup. It’s as if they’re allergic to the very air itself, from the way they’re dressed in a hoodie and long black sweatpants that cover every inch of their body.

Leo spots you approaching from the corner of his eye, heart pounding as he does his best to remain unbothered. This is the time to put his acting skills to the test. He watches you sit down warily, his body tensing when you turn to face him with a smile.

“I’m Y/n,” You introduce yourself, noting the slight raise of their head when you speak.

“Leonardo,” He introduces himself smoothly, relieved when his voice doesn’t crack from how nervous he is.

“Well, nice to meet you, Leonardo. Is this your first time taking this class?” You ask, resting your elbows on the table while propping your chin on your hand. You’re a little wary of his character, based on the way he’s dressed. Maybe he’s cold. In this heat, though? But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him, you suppose.

“Yeah, would someone as kind as you show me the ropes, hermosa?” He grins.

You take a moment to contemplate, glancing back at your project that still has so much work to be done. However, it wouldn’t hurt to help out a newbie. Plus, you could just google what he had called you later.

"So, are you just chilling here or...?" You ask, gesturing to the black screen of his monitor. "Do you not know how to turn it on...?"

"Oh, I just prefer not to. I do my best thinking monitor-less."

"Sure..." You hide a grin at his words, chuckling. "Power button's on the bottom right." You whisper, pressing another button to turn on his CPU for him.

Huh. Leo rather liked the sound of your laugh.

“Thanks. Looks like my first lesson of the day’s already going smoothly,” He chirps, already moving the mouse and double-clicking on random programs that have been pre-downloaded into the PC. He leans over to you slightly, peeking at your screen and comparing it with his.

He opens a coding software that looks similar to yours, the only difference being that his is blank, whilst yours is filled with hundreds of lines of code. You take a moment to read through your own code, trying to find the singular error that’s making your life a living hell.

“Woah,” You flinch, caught off guard by his sudden closeness to your side. “What’s that mean?” He points to a random line, looking at you for an explanation.

“This function just makes it so that when a button is clicked, it’ll check all the fields of my form before it’s allowed to go through to the server. It’s supposed to be simple validation, but for some reason, it’s not going through.” You all but growl under your breath, growing irritated at the wonderful reminder of your current progress.

“Riiiight, functions.” Leo nods, though the slow drawl in his voice makes you hesitate.

“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly, “This chunk here is basically making it so that when this button is pressed, it checks if everything’s been filled before letting it process,” You attempt to simplify, pleased when you hear a sound of realisation from the boy beside you.

Guess you have to start from scratch. You shift your chair closer to his, sharing the desk with him. You reach out and grab the keyboard, sliding it closer. “Now, type what I’m highlighting on my screen, okay?”

He readies his sleeve-covered hands, placing them on top of the keyboard confidently and accidentally pressing down on multiple keys. The page gets spammed with random sequences of numbers and letters, and he chuckles sheepishly before rapidly backspacing.

You wait patiently, his inexperience making you reminisce fondly on the days spent reading up and watching Youtube tutorials on how to code. Once he clears the screen of the numerous characters, you clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter in your seat.

“So, you’re gonna type this.” You tilt the screen of your own monitor and use your mouse to highlight a certain part of your code. He types away, looking up now and then to compare your code to his.

"So, what'd these nerds ask you to do?" He takes the chance to ask, using his chin to nod at the people you were with earlier whilst propping his feet up on the desk.

"Acting as if you're not a nerd yourself," You laugh, "I was helping them debug a few things in their program."

"Ah-ah," Leo holds up a finger, quickly shoving it back inside the pockets of his hoodie when his sleeves start to slip, "I'm a dork, not a nerd. The main difference? Dorks are lovable, and girls like lovable."

“Sure they do,” You snort, leaning back in your seat.

“Of course they do! After all, you’re still talking to me, aren’t you, hermosa?” He points out smugly.

Well, that is true. You pause, cheeks warm as you try to think of a way to retort but come up with none. “I suppose you’re right,” You admit in defeat, sharing a chuckle with him.

“You do know that they’re bad news, though, right?”

You purse your lips, frowning slightly as you sigh. “Yeah, but I owe Kendra a favour.” You admit with a simple shrug.

“A favour? That’s it?” Leo’s baffled by how simple your reason is.

“Yeah, I don’t like owing favours to people. Besides, it’s just temporary,” You say, raising a brow at his rather intrusive questions. Did he know…?

He wouldn’t know, you chuckle. There’s no way he’d know about the hacking device Kendra had asked you to help debug for her.

Oh, she knows something. Leo can feel it in his gut, noting the slight suspicion in your gaze. He shrugs, propping his elbows behind his back and leaning against his chair. “None of my business anyway. Besides that, though, what do you think? I did pretty good, huh?”

“Not bad for a first timer,” You smile, pleasantly surprised that he had figured out how to toy around with the different aspects of the webpage in such a short time, relaxing at his carefree attitude.

“Anyway, what’s your favourite movie?” Leo asks eagerly, trying to figure out a way to build back up to the conversation about the Purple Dragons once more. A harmless question wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Oh, right now it’s Frozen. But I’ll always have an attachment to the ones I grew up with, like Lou Jitsu,” You answer absentmindedly, having moved your chair back to resume debugging your own code.

“You know Lou Jitsu?”

“Yeah, my dad made me watch every single one when I was younger. Now it’s like a guilty pleasure,” You say, pausing after. “Wait, you know Lou Jitsu too?” You question with wide eyes, shocked that there’s someone else in this school who knows of Lou Jitsu.

“Of course! I’m his biggest fan, along with Jupiter Jim, of course,” Leo brags, lazily spinning in his chair.

“I haven’t heard that name in forever,” You lean your cheek into your palm, nostalgia hitting as you remember the days spent in your room, rifling through page after page of Jupiter Jim comics. “Jupiter Jim was fantastic. Actually, I think I still have a few issues still in mint condition. Planned to sell them, but kinda forgot with all the projects I got going on,” You gesture tiredly to your bright screen in silent explanation.

Wow. If he wasn’t already infatuated with you, he sure is now.

Leo’s about to speak when the school bell rings, signalling the start of lunch. Students start to pack up, streaming out the door automatically in search of food. You hear a small growl from his stomach, looking at him with eyes that shine with amusement.

“Shall we continue this conversation over lunch?” You ask as you hold his gaze. Well, you’re pretty sure that you’re looking straight into his eyes. It’s hard to tell where his are under the hood. You’re still not sure why he’s hiding his face, but hey, Leonardo seems fun to hang out with.

Plus, he’s funny.

You like funny.

“Yo, Y/n!” You turn at the mention of your name, deflating slightly when you see Kendra gesturing you over to the front.

“Looks like we have to postpone that lunch date, mi amor.”

You pause in the middle of gathering your things. You’re not a native Spanish speaker by any means, but you’re pretty sure you know what the nickname implies. A rosy pink blush blossoms on your cheeks, clearing your throat and standing up in your seat.

“Catch you later, Corazón,” You rush off to meet Kendra after your daring reply, though Leo spots the flustered glance you throw over your shoulder. He grins, a rush of euphoria giving him a high he never thought possible.

"Leo, anything to report?" Raph’s voice suddenly speaks from his watch. He immediately covers it with his hand, glancing around furtively to check if anyone’s heard. Luckily, it’s only him in the lab, and the Purple Dragons are too far away to have heard.

He hesitates, watching you join Kendra and leave, but not before you cast an apologetic glance over your back to him. The smile doesn’t leave his lips, his gaze fixated on you as you round the corner. He finally lifts up his watch to his face, answering his brothers.

"No, nothing special to report, dear brother. Over and out."

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x you #rottmnt leo x y/n #rottmnt leonardo #leonardo x reader #leonardo x you #leonardo x y/n #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #x reader

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halfway-happyyy · 2 years

Text

begin again (rooster bradshaw)

AN: rooster still struggles with the death of his parents from time to time, and though he could turn to a multitude of people to get him through- he chooses you (his ex-flame). no warnings, only soft feelings ahead.

reader's call sign: sass

pairing: rooster bradshaw x female reader

Penny Benjamin's name flashes across the screen of your vibrating cell phone, rousing you from an otherwise heavy slumber and you answer it, frowning at the late hour.

“Penny, is everything alright?”

Because everyone knows that bad news has a terrible habit of following two-AM phone calls.

Penny hesitates on the other end while someone in the background hollers something. “Everything's fine, Sass. I'm sorry for waking you, but would you mind swinging over here to pick Rooster up?”

You blanch at the question. “He’s back on American soil?”

“Oh, he sure is.” She confirms.

Swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you ask, “What about Mav?”

Penny sighs heavily. “Maverick is currently as indisposed as Rooster is.”

“Penny, m’darlin’! Is that her? May I talk to her?”

Penny pulls the phone from her ear to hiss something at someone in the background and then she’s back a second later to tell you that he’s asking for you personally.

Lucky me.

“Yeah Penny- give me twenty minutes.”

In the short amount of time that it takes to drive to the Hard Deck you nearly turn back twice; the last words you ever uttered to Rooster play on like a broken record in your mind and causes unease to prick at you. You’re about to make a final run for it when the familiar neon sign catches your eye through the early morning light and it’s entirely too late now. Parking your car, you notice that the bar is closed for the evening, and you glance around in mild confusion. You are mere seconds from calling Penny back when you spot three lone figures standing on the beach a couple yards away. Drawing nearer, you notice both Penny and Maverick with their arms around Rooster’s impossibly broad shoulders- and they’re telling him something, but you lose their words to the white noise of the waves breaking on the shore before you.

“Hi guys.” You announce your presence and Maverick turns to face you, his smile wide and begrudgingly infectious.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. It’s good to see you, Sass.”

Penny turns to you, her expression grateful. “Thank you for coming, Sass.”

“Bit of a rowdy night for a Wednesday, huh?”

Penny tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and nods her head, her sky-blue orbs glitter brilliantly in the low morning light. “It sure was.” She pecks Rooster’s cheek goodbye and tugs on the sleeve of Maverick’s worn leather jacket. “Hate to cut a party early Mav, but eight o’clock comes fast.”

Maverick guffaws and thumps Rooster on the back twice. “You owe me a beer, kid.” He ruffles a palm through the mop of Rooster’s unruly auburn hair- something about the gesture tells you it’s a remnant from his childhood, and it makes you smile. “You remember what I told you, hm?”

Rooster nods, once.

“Thanks again for coming, Sass. I’m sorry for waking you.” Penny whispers as she walks past.

“It’s no problem, really. I had just closed my eyes.”

She caresses a warm palm to your cheek, her gaze knowing. “His plane hit the tarmac a week ago and he hasn’t stopped talking about you since.”

You watch them retreat from sight and sidle up next to Rooster. “So. This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

He sways a little on the spot, a byproduct of the alcohol consumed, no doubt. “You made your position about our future communication adamantly clear the last time we spoke.”

You certainly can’t begrudge him that because it’s true. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” His soft, wrecked voice echoes.

Silence settles like fine dust between the pair of you, and despite everything that transpired in the past, you cannot deny that you missed him with every fiber of your being. A multitude of questions dance just shy of your reach- Where have you been? And- Why did you listen when I told you never to call again? But all you can manage is a quiet, “Talk to me, Rooster.”

“It’s his birthday today.” He murmurs. His gaze is distant- lost to the vast ocean before him. “He would have been sixty.” His admission weighs heavier than you thought it might, and your arms ache to hold him. “Is it fucked up that I come here sometimes to feel closer to him?”

You shake your head. “Grief is a fickle thing, Rooster. You do what you can to cope. No one can fault you for that.”

“I miss them so much.”

His despair is suddenly palpable; it washes over you like warm rain and all you can do is be near to him. “The grief means that there’s love, Rooster. It means that there is so much unexpressed love still. And it’ll stay with you- it’s supposed to stay with you. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” A tear slips from his closed eye and cascades down his flushed cheek, and you reach up to brush it away with the pad of your thumb. “Let’s get you home, hm?”

Rooster relents and stumbles through the sand to your car. The ride is silent, your eyelids heavy with the weight of interrupted sleep. “Will you wait around a little while?” Rooster asks, upon arrival. And because you’ve always had a particularly hard time with saying no to him, you smile softly and nod your head.

“Sure, Rooster.”

It’s been six months since you’ve been inside of his house and stepping into the front hallway brings the memories back in roiling waves.

Rooster taking you up against the wall after an evening out at a military gala, the kitchen where scrambled eggs and bacon were made on Sunday mornings. The living room where he used to slow dance with you to Otis Redding. The photographs adorning the walls that the two of you purchased together.

“May I put a record on?” The hour is late and wearing on, but you’re not sure when you’ll get this opportunity again, so you take full advantage of it.

“Of course.” Rooster murmurs.

Making your way over to the record player beneath the bay window, you search through the case next to you until you find the one that you want. Slipping Giant from Buddy Holly out of its cover, you place it into the player, position the needle, and step back. It takes a few moments before the riff to Love Is Strange sounds through the speakers and transports the otherwise quiet room to the late sixties.

“A good choice.” Rooster approves from the doorway.

“It’s nostalgic for me.” You shrug.

“Me too.” He pushes himself from the doorframe to walk over to you. “May I?” He asks, in reference to a dance.

“You may.”

He takes you into his arms, and the achingly familiar feeling they bring you is so intense, you have no choice but to drop your chin to his shoulder blade to keep from sighing in utter satisfaction. He sways slowly with you on the spot, his large warm hands cradle the small of your back- and they hold you like you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll shatter into a million magnificent pieces before his eyes.

“Most of my memories are thread bare, but when I listen to music like this, I can still see them together.” He clears his throat. “He’d put on a record- like you just did, and he’d dance her around the living room until it ended. And the next night, they’d do it all over again.”

The needle ticks and the record finishes and your eyelids threaten close of their own volition when Rooster leads you by the hand to his bedroom down the hall. He makes no move to remove your clothing, and sleep is so heavy on your mind that you fall into bed without another thought. He sidles in beside you, brushes the hair back from your ear and says, “I never got to thank you before I left.”

“Thank me for what?” You mumble, sleepily.

Rooster traces a fingertip down the bridge of your nose. “I packed ice around my heart after my parents passed. I got scared of making homes out of people, but you made me feel less afraid about it all, and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.” His fingertips trace the outline of your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the touch. “And if tomorrow comes and you’re still here, I’ll tell you everything, Sass.”

“You're drunk, Rooster.” You whisper.

And everyone knows that drunk words mean nothing when the morning light touches them.

Yet six am arrives and sunshine beams through a crack in his curtains, and the very first words out of that wonderfully gravelly voice of his are- “I meant every single word I said earlier.”

And as you watch a slow, sleepy smile bloom across his face- happiness warms inside of you like sunlight through a stained glass window.

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